The gym was nearly empty, the scent of iron and sweat thick in the air. The only sounds were the distant clatter of weights, the rhythmic hum of the overhead fans, and the heavy breathing of two men locked in their silent competition.
Dominic adjusted his grip on the loaded barbell, his knuckles whitening as he steadied himself. His opponent—no, his rival—stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him with that same unreadable expression he always wore.
“Form’s slipping, Dom,” Eli muttered, just loud enough to be heard over the music blasting through the gym’s speakers.
Dominic gritted his teeth. The weight on his shoulders was punishing, but the real pressure wasn’t the bar pressing against his traps. It was him—the way Eli’s gaze burned into his skin, the way his presence always made Dominic push harder, lift heavier.
Dominic exhaled and drove himself upward, muscles straining as he locked out at the top. The barbell clanged as he racked it, stepping back with a sharp inhale.
Eli smirked. “Barely made that last rep.”
Dominic grabbed his towel, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You wanna show me how it’s done?”
Eli shrugged, stepping forward without hesitation. “Gladly.”
He positioned himself under the bar with effortless confidence, gripping it like it was an extension of himself. Dominic watched as he dropped into a squat, his movements precise and powerful. The control, the sheer ease—it pissed him off more than it should have.
Eli stood smoothly, barely breaking a sweat as he racked the barbell. He turned to Dominic with that signature cocky grin. “That’s how you do it.”
Dominic rolled his eyes, grabbing his water bottle. “You’re annoying as hell, you know that?”
Eli wiped his hands on his shorts, still smirking. “You love it.”
“Right.”
But the tension between them didn’t fade. It never did. It was always there—in the way they pushed each other, in the way their small jabs carried something heavier underneath.
Something neither of them had ever addressed.
Until now.
Eli took a step closer, the space between them shrinking. Dominic stilled, gripping his water bottle a little too tightly.
“You push harder when I’m here,” Eli murmured.
Dominic scoffed, trying to ignore the way his pulse jumped. “Maybe I just don’t like losing.”
Eli’s smirk didn’t falter. “Funny. I don’t either.”
The gym felt too hot, the air too thick.
Dominic forced himself to stay still as Eli closed the remaining distance between them, his body heat almost suffocating. His breathing was steady and controlled—unlike Dominic’s, which had suddenly turned shallow.
Eli’s gaze flickered over him, assessing, waiting.
Then, without warning, he reached out—gripping Dominic’s wrist, firm and unshaken.
Dominic tensed, every muscle in his body coiled tight. “What are you doing?”
Eli’s voice dropped lower, smoother. “You ever gonna admit it?”
Dominic swallowed hard. He knew exactly what Eli meant.
The way they circled each other. The way their rivalry had never really been about winning.
Dominic had spent months, years, pretending it was just competition. Just the drive to be better.
But Eli saw through that. He always had.
The weight of the moment pressed heavier than any barbell ever could.
And Dominic wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight it anymore.
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