Evening Routine

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of lectures and questions.

Isabella’s second class was a smaller upper-level section, only twenty students. They were quieter than the freshmen, more focused on the material. She moved through the slides with practiced ease, answering questions about cell structure and enzyme function without missing a beat. A few of the male students still tracked her as she walked between the rows, but the comments stayed under their breath this time.

Her final class of the day ended just after four. She dismissed them, gathered her notes, and locked the lecture hall. The science building was already thinning out. Most of the faculty had left or retreated to their offices. Isabella returned to her own, shut down the computer, and packed her bag.

She sent Daniel a quick message before leaving.

The drive to the campus gym took less than ten minutes. Isabella parked near the side entrance, grabbed her gym bag from the back seat, and headed inside. The women’s locker room was half empty. She changed quickly, pulling on a tight white halter sports bra that left most of her chest and midriff bare, and a pair of dark gray shorts that sat low on her hips. She tugged a black baseball cap over her ponytail, adjusted the brim low, and checked herself once in the mirror before stepping out onto the main floor.

The gym smelled of rubber and clean sweat. A handful of students and a couple of staff members were already working out. Isabella claimed a treadmill near the windows, set a steady pace, and let the rhythm of her feet settle her thoughts.

She ran for twenty minutes without stopping. Sweat gathered between her breasts and along the line of her stomach. The white top clung tighter with every mile. Every so often she caught someone looking. A guy on the weights across the room watched her reflection in the mirror longer than necessary. Another student on the bike nearby glanced over more than once. Isabella kept her eyes forward and increased the incline.

When the run ended she moved to the free weights and loaded the bar for squats. She had just settled under it for her first set when a familiar voice spoke behind her.

“Need a spot?”

Isabella racked the bar and turned. Coach Ryan Hale stood a few feet away in a black athletic shirt and shorts, a towel draped over one shoulder. The football coach was in his early forties, broad and solid, with the kind of easy, persistent charm that had followed her around campus for the last two years. His eyes moved over the white top, the bare skin of her stomach, the way the gray shorts sat on her hips, then settled on her face under the black cap with a slow grin.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Come on. Heavy day. Let me help.” He stepped closer. “I can spot you.”

Isabella hesitated. The gym was not empty, but no one was standing close. She looked at the bar, then at him, and finally gave a short nod.

“Alright. Just don’t get in the way.”

Ryan’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He moved behind her as she positioned herself under the bar again. Isabella lowered into the first squat. The gray shorts pulled tight across her ass. She could feel Ryan’s eyes on her the entire time. When she drove back up he was still staring, gaze locked on the curve of her backside and the way the white top strained with every breath.

She completed the set in silence. Ryan never touched the bar. He just stood there, close enough that she could hear him breathe, eyes never leaving her body.

“Again?” he asked when she racked it.

Isabella wiped her hands on her shorts. “One more.”

She set up for the second set. This time Ryan shifted slightly to the side, giving himself a clearer view of her cleavage as she descended. The white sports bra left almost nothing to the imagination. Sweat ran between her breasts. He made no effort to hide where he was looking.

“damn, Isabella,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

She finished the set, racked the bar, and stepped out from under it. Ryan was still watching her, eyes dark with open interest.

“Quit staring,” she said.

“Hard not to.” He didn’t look away. “You keep coming in here like that and I’m going to start showing up every night.”

Isabella picked up her towel and wiped the back of her neck. “You’re shameless.”

“Only around you.” Ryan finally stepped back, still smiling. “Same time tomorrow?”

“I don’t keep a schedule.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to get lucky again.”

He gave her one last look, slow and deliberate, before heading toward the other side of the gym. Isabella watched him go longer than she meant to, then finished her remaining sets alone. The awareness of his eyes lingered even after he was gone.

She stretched once near the mats and headed back to the locker room. The hot water of the shower washed away the sweat but not the weight of Ryan’s stare.

By the time she dressed and stepped into the evening air, the sky had started to darken. Isabella walked to her car, tossed the gym bag in the passenger seat, and started the engine.

Daniel would be waiting at home with dinner. The thought should have been enough to settle everything.

It almost was.