Travis was practically wheezing, his chest heaving as he stood bent over, hands planted firmly on his knees. Sweat dripped down his temples, stinging his eyes.
' Fucken hell! I think I'm gonna die! Shit… God, why me of all people? I should've added running into my exercises. Got the body for it, sure… but these lungs? Kinda my fault though. That intelligence boost did nothing for me. '
Coach Bridget's voice cut through his panting. "Hey, kid! Come here!"
He groaned internally. ' The fuck does she want now? Ain't she a Lucha Libre? Might have to keep that in mind—could use it against her one day. '
Straightening up with a resigned sigh, he dragged himself toward her, still catching his breath.
"What's up?" he asked, his voice casual, though his tone was slightly uneven. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his cheek, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
Bridget studied him, her gaze sharp but almost impressed. She still looked like she was trying to piece together what she'd just seen from him.
"I didn't know you were that good at running," she finally said with a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I'm impressed. Why don't you join the track team?"
Travis gave her a light shrug, masking his exhaustion behind a nonchalant tone. "Oh, I'd love to, but nah. Can't do that. I'm focusing on schoolwork right now."
The firmness in his voice made it clear he wasn't bluffing. Bridget narrowed her eyes slightly, reading him, and decided he meant it… for now.
"Alright," she said simply, though her mind was already spinning with ways to rope him in later.
As the boys arrived, she sent them off to do laps, her whistle cutting sharply through the morning air.
"You will all do push-ups and sit-ups until you feel like you can't do anymore," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "That goes for the rest of you as well."
Travis dropped down without a word of complaint, palms pressing into the cool gym floor. His muscles flexed easily as he began his push-ups, steady and controlled. He could still feel Coach Bridget's eyes on him, almost as if she was silently trying to size him up. She clearly wasn't giving up on her plan to recruit him, but that was fine—he could play along for now.
Physical challenges were his playground. He thrived here. Each push-up came smooth, his breathing steady, his arms moving with practiced rhythm.
One by one, his classmates started to drop out. Some panted heavily, others flopped to the side in defeat. After 10 minutes, only Ronda and Dexter remained, both trembling as they forced themselves to keep pace. Ronda's face was beet-red, sweat dripping into her eyes, while Dexter's arms shook like loose springs. Eventually, both surrendered, collapsing flat onto the floor.
Seeing that, Travis decided it was time to stop as well. No point in drawing too much attention—though judging by the wide-eyed stares from the rest of the class, it was already too late.
"He is not human," someone muttered under their breath.
A few others murmured agreement.
Travis chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing at Coach Bridget. She didn't look surprised. If anything, she looked… satisfied.
"Do sit-ups now," she ordered.
The groans were immediate, but everyone obeyed, lowering themselves into position. This part was harder. Without a partner to anchor their feet, their legs kept lifting, their form breaking. Travis's abs tightened with each movement, his breathing steady, the faint burn in his midsection only pushing him to go harder.
After another 10 minutes, the class was a graveyard of sprawled bodies. Every single one had given up—except him. Like before, Travis slowed and finally stopped, casually brushing a bead of sweat from his temple.
"We're done for now. Class dismissed. Go take a shower before you leave, of course," Coach Bridget announced, her voice carrying that same natural authority.
The others groaned their way toward the locker rooms, shoulders sagging, shirts clinging to their backs with sweat. Bridget, however, stepped forward, blocking Travis for a moment.
"Can we speak in my office after?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as if testing his resolve.
"Let me go change first. I'll be there as soon as I'm done," he replied between breaths, his chest still rising and falling.
She gave him a short nod, though the faint smirk on her lips made it clear—she wasn't entirely convinced he'd show up.
As Travis jogged toward the locker rooms, a small smirk crept onto his face.
' Yep, when it comes to those exercises, I'm an expert. Of course it still burned—but is it even fun if it doesn't? Damn, I sound like a masochist now that I think about it. ' he thought, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.
Travis made his way to the showers, his pace quick, the heat of exercise still clinging to his skin.
Without thinking, he pushed open the door—only to stop short when the sound of running water and soft humming met his ears.
Judith was there.
She stood beneath one of the showers, steam curling around her like mist, the door wide open for reasons he couldn't quite guess. Droplets clung to her pale skin, catching the light and sliding down the curves of her body.
"Travis! Close your eyes!" she squealed, spinning toward him with a gasp and clutching her arms around herself. Her cheeks flushed deep crimson as she shifted from foot to foot.
He didn't. Instead, a slow grin curved his lips as he set his bag down and began pulling at his shirt.
"Why though? I mean… if you're wondering, you look hot," he said with a teasing lilt, watching her fumble to grab her glasses from the little shelf by the wall.
When she slid them on, her wide eyes locked onto him—trailing down his frame, lingering at his chest, the ridges of his abs, and… lower. Her gaze faltered when he unbuttoned his pants and let them drop.
Her breath hitched.
His behemoth swayed lazily with each step he took toward the nearest showerhead, as if completely unbothered by her presence. He twisted the knob, letting cold water rush over his heated body, and raked his hands through his damp hair.
Judith, despite herself, didn't look away.
Her gaze followed the rivulets streaming down his chest, over his abs, down further—until she realized what she was doing and snapped her head toward the wall.
"Aren't you going to take a shower?" Travis asked, tilting his head toward her while the spray pattered against his skin.
"O-oh, yeah!" she stammered, her voice high and flustered. She turned away quickly, trying to hide the red blooming across her cheeks.
Travis's eyes roamed over her again, slower this time—taking in the soft lines of her hips, the elegant curve of her back, the faint steam curling off her damp hair. His blood surged, warmth pooling low in his gut. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay composed. The dragon stirred but didn't wake.
She was beautiful, far more than he had let himself notice before. And something about her—her awkwardness, her stubborn personality—made him want to stand between her and anything that might hurt her.
It was strange. Something in him had shifted. A flicker of that possessive, untouchable air those smug CEO characters had in the manhwas he used to binge.
'Tch. Those dumb manhwa hoes never even called the cops after all that… i mean damn, but honestly that should have told me everything about women. The more your treat the like shit. The higher chance they'll like you ' he thought, remembering the absurd plots from years ago.
TO BE CONTINUED