Jason and Travis took their positions on the track. After a brief moment of preparation, Bridget shouted,
"Go!"
Travis exploded forward like a bullet leaving its chamber. His figure blurred, his shoes kicking up faint dust trails that hadn't even settled by the time he reached the finish line.
Before anyone could blink, he had already turned back, breezing past Jason—who hadn't even managed more than a few steps—and crossed the finish line again.
The field was silent.
What… what just happened?! Everyone's thoughts collided at once.
Ronda's jaw hung slack; she had been prepared to see Travis run fast, but this wasn't speed—it was something beyond human. Even she had trouble believing her eyes.
The entire team stood frozen, their brains still processing, while Jason remained planted at the starting line, staring after Travis as if the world had tilted off its axis.
Travis slowed into a casual walk, grinning as though he had just finished a light jog instead of shattering their perception of human limits.
Coach Bridget finally snapped out of her trance, eyes wide with disbelief, hands tightening around her clipboard as though it were the only solid thing in the moment.
"Wow, kid," she breathed, "so you were holding back yesterday?"
Travis shrugged, playful glint in his eye. "Not really. Now what do I do?"
That snapped her back into coach mode.
Clearing her throat, she barked, "Well, we'll be doing some exercises now. So, everyone, shake off that shock. First—forty full laps of suicides. You know the rules. Only counts when you make it back. Now move it!"
Her words cut through the stunned silence like a whip. The group stirred, though sluggishly, while Travis immediately broke into motion, his body moving with smooth efficiency.
Each pivot, each dash, felt clean, precise. He pushed off the ground with such control that it almost seemed effortless.
The rest of the team, however, quickly fell into a collective rhythm of torment. Their shoes pounded against the floor, breaths coming hard and heavy, each turnback dragging more weight into their limbs. Muscles burned, lungs screamed, and groans filled the air.
Travis, though soaked with sweat, kept a steady pace. His chest rose and fell faster, yes, but his body didn't feel like it was being torn apart like the others.
Every lap only sharpened the feeling of strength inside him. His legs moved with a power that surprised even himself, and with every sprint back, he felt less fatigue and more exhilaration.
By the thirtieth minute, the team was barely hanging on. Their jerseys clung to them like second skins, sweat dripping into their eyes, their strides faltering into half-hearted lunges.
Jason leaned over, hands on knees, gasping as though his lungs might collapse. Ronda, normally among the fastest, staggered on her return dash, nearly tripping on her own exhaustion.
But Travis?
He jogged the last line, sweat dripping steadily but his eyes sharp, his grin refusing to fade. He slowed only to stretch his shoulders before falling back into rhythm again, his mind strangely calm amidst the chaos of labored breathing around him.
' That felt nice,' he thought. ' I should really start running on my own. Been saying it for two days, and still haven't done it. Yeah, it's definitely going in the schedule.'
As he came to a stop, his chest buzzing with controlled energy rather than raw fatigue, he realized something else—this wasn't just practice.
Break was over, signaling the end of their brief respite. The boys were eager to freshen up, but the girls went in first so they waited outside. While the girls lingered inside taking their sweet time, laughter and chatter echoing faintly through the tiled walls.
Travis, however, had his own approach to the situation. Without hesitation, he slipped past the sign marked Girls' Showers and stepped inside as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Meanwhile, Ronda, returning from an extra workout, spotted him entering. Her brow furrowed instantly.
"Is he a pervert or something?" she thought, her sharp eyes narrowing as suspicion curled in her chest.
Yet, curiosity gnawed at her stronger than disapproval. She adjusted her towel on her shoulders and, moving silently, followed after him.
The moment she crossed the threshold, the sound of water rushing over porcelain and skin reached her ears. The air was thick with steam, warm and damp against her cheeks, carrying with it the faint scent of floral soap.
Peeking carefully around the corner, Ronda's breath hitched. There he was.
Travis stood beneath one of the showers, water streaming down his body in rivulets, highlighting every contour of muscle.
His broad shoulders gleamed under the spray, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.
Droplets clung to his skin before sliding down his abdomen, tracing over the ridges of his stomach until they disappeared into the steam below.
Ronda's throat tightened as she took him in. His presence radiated something unreal, almost divine—like a warrior sculpted from marble, made flesh.
Her suspicion melted, replaced by something she couldn't quite name. Heat flushed her cheeks, not just from the humidity.
"He's gorgeous!!!" her mind screamed, but the thought carried a weight of disbelief, almost frustration.
No man she had ever known looked like that. No boy her age carried himself with such unshakable calm, as though he owned the room, the shower, and even the very air she breathed.
Unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—that she was watching, Travis ran his hand back through his wet hair, tilting his head slightly as the water cascaded down his face. His movements were unhurried, almost sensual in their simplicity, every shift of his muscles sending another shiver down her spine.
Ronda gripped the edge of the wall tighter. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. For a moment, she forgot entirely why she had followed him at all.
Lost in her thoughts, Ronda couldn't help but admire Travis's physical form, contemplating the idea of having someone like him by her side for the rest of her days. As her gaze lingered on him, she felt a sudden jolt as Travis turned around unexpectedly. His instincts flared the moment he felt her stare burn into his skin.
Catching her in the act, he smirked. In that brief instant, their eyes met, and Ronda's gaze faltered downward—landing squarely on his cock. Heat rushed to her face, but the emotions flooding her weren't just embarrassment. It was want, curiosity, and a faint nervous thrill.
She turned as if to walk away, but Travis's voice stopped her, low and teasing.
"You know, I remember back in high school you used to be so good. But now… seems the tables have turned."
She froze, biting her lip, then glanced back. He was obviously taunting her, yet the tone carried just enough weight to sting. Something in her refused to let that slide. Spinning on her heel, she approached him slowly, closing the distance until her chest nearly brushed his, her eyes locked with his.
"Oh, I still think I'm the best," she shot back, her confidence cracking just enough to make her words sound like both a challenge and an invitation. "Just because you showed up doesn't mean you're some main character who was outcasted and suddenly gains powers to become better than before."
Travis blinked, genuinely surprised, then chuckled. "Wow… so you watch anime?"
A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she gave a slow nod. "If you think you're better, why don't we wager?"
His curiosity sharpened, eyes narrowing slightly. "On what?"
Ronda tilted her head, the playful gleam in her eyes leaving the question deliberately open-ended.
Travis felt his heart kick up a notch, though outwardly he kept his cool. He studied her face, the way she hovered close, her breath brushing against his skin.
' Wow… that was easier than I thought,' he thought, fighting the urge to grin. ' She's already biting the bait.'
TO BE CONTINUED