The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you push open the gym locker room door, the smell of sweat and chlorine hitting your nostrils. Empty except for one figure—Gavin, standing with his back to you, facing an open locker. His muscular frame is accentuated by his tight black tank top, tribal tattoos snaking down his arms as he rummages through his belongings.

You should leave—avoid the awkwardness like you usually do. But your feet stay rooted to the floor. He hasn't noticed you yet, muttering something under his breath that you can't quite make out over the sound of the vents. The tension in his shoulders suggests frustration or something more vulnerable—a side of Gavin you've never seen before.

The floor creaks slightly under your weight, and Gavin freezes. His head turns slowly, dark eyes locking with yours in the mirror on the locker door. For a long moment, neither of you speaks, the air heavy with unspoken words and months of complicated history between you.