Chapter 1 - Day One

Rylee

I’d prepared myself for today as much as I could. I stayed up late last night watching YouTube videos, studying the movements of fitness influencers, even scribbling little notes. I was ready.

Today was my first day at the gym. It wasn’t because I was overweight—far from it. I just felt my stamina was weak. As an art student I haul watercolor sets, canvases, brushes, and every kind of drawing tool almost every day. My body needed extra strength if I wanted to keep painting.

My eyes scanned for the machine I’d seen in the videos. Lateral raise. Okay, start there.

I stepped closer. But when I looked, the handle was set too high for me. Huh, it felt different from what I’d seen on YouTube. Still, I reached for it. At 155 cm I wasn’t exactly short, right? But my tiptoes weren’t cutting it. I stretched and stretched until, out of nowhere, a strong hand easily lowered the bar and handed it to me.

“Um, sorry. I think it’s usually not this high…” I tried to make small talk with a smile. As if I’d been a regular at the gym forever—Rylee, chill.

The man only replied flatly, “Some idiot forgot to put the chain on.”

Then he walked away. Cold as ice.

“Thanks!” I called a little louder since he was already heading toward the chest-press machine. Of course he was.

I set up with the lightest weights. It still felt ridiculously heavy. Was I really that weak? I hopped around to a few other machines, following the notes from the tutorials I’d watched the night before.

An hour later my arms felt like they didn’t belong to me anymore. Everything ached. That was enough for today.

On my way to the locker room I passed a full-length mirror by the studio room. Perfect. I stopped for a quick selfie. A few takes—finding my angle—until I caught the reflection of the man from before, apparently trying to suppress a smile. What? He was mocking me? Rude! I just squinted at him before ducking into the bathroom.

By eight p.m. I left the gym wrecked, every muscle burned out, but my stomach growled in protest after I’d burned all my energy. I hit a food stall and bought a burrito. The thing was—seriously—bigger than my hand.

I walked home chewing the warm burrito. Even with aching muscles, the night felt perfect.

\~\~\~

The next day, in Professor Vaughn’s art class. As usual, we were going to paint a model. The models who’d shown up so far had been… pretty interesting. Other students, the campus security guard, a flower vendor with a full bouquet, even a dog who clearly couldn’t hold still for two whole hours. Last week it was a fat man with a big belly who had to hold a chicken drumstick—two hours of staring at his own food. Poor guy… but honestly, it was hilarious.

“I hope today, the model is… something normal,” Hannah whispered beside me.

“Maybe a hot guy,” I said, just throwing it out there.

As if the universe had a sense of humor, a small ripple of applause came from the door. Professor Vaughn walked in—followed by a tall, broad-shouldered, good looking man. Hot even

I froze.

Of course.

The cold guy from the gym last night. What a small world.

Professor Vaughn stood in the center of the room, surrounded by us students. “Today our model is Henry. Henry used to play rugby professionally and now focuses on modeling. Let’s see how you capture him. Go ahead and start.”

Henry stepped into the middle. He wore an oversized sweater and relaxed jeans.

“Look at his arms, Rylee. That sweater looks like it’s about to burst—so tight,” Hannah breathed, impressed.

I snorted. “That’s an oversized sweater, Han.” It was huge—how could she already be seeing muscles?

But I glanced back at Henry. He set his pose: left hand behind his neck, right hand tugging slightly at the hem of his sweater. His eyes—dark gray—were staring straight at… me.

My chest tightened. Was he doing that on purpose? Or just coincidence? We’d only met for a moment last night—why did he stare at me like I was stealing his protein bar or something?

“Relax, Rylee,” Hannah nudged me. “We all know he’s hot.”

I exhaled and forced myself to calm down. Okay, he’s posing. Focus on the canvas. I began to draw—line by line, detail by detail. Sharp jaw, brown hair, broad shoulders. No wonder he was a model.

After thirty minutes I noticed him looking a little tired holding the pose. He stretched briefly, then returned to it. Two hours like this? Way harder than my gym session last night.

My painting was almost finished. It just needed my trademark touch: bright colors to bring it to life.

“Wow, great detail, Rylee. Those colors are your signature,” Professor Vaughn praised, patting my shoulder.

I gave a small smile. But my eyes kept darting to Henry. He remained motionless, still cool, still… staring in my direction.

\~\~\~

Henry

Honestly, I didn’t want to come today. But I’d promised Winona, my manager, I’d model at Lakewood University’s art class. Whatever Professor Vaughn promised her, Winona pushed hard enough that I couldn’t say no.

I walked through the hall without paying attention to students’ stares. Once I was in the center of the room I scanned the faces, and my gaze landed on her.

The girl from the gym last night.

The one who’d been testing every machine every five minutes, then taking selfies in the mirror like she’d just finished an intense workout.

I clenched back a smile.

For some reason there was a gravity pulling me toward her. As I began to pose my eyes drifted to her on their own.

Stay calm. No expression.

I caught her flustered for a second, then steadying herself. When she bent toward her canvas, pencil poised—focused—

She felt so different from the bubbly girl I’d seen yesterday.

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