Jason blinked, some of the momentary shock clearing, and turned back to Ben with a slight frown. "Why did you even point her out like that. Big dramatic reveal. She’s got nothing to do with me."
"Uh huh." Ben didn’t even look up, already adjusting the pin on the machine to a heavier weight. "Sure."
"I’m serious. We’ve never even talked."
"You sure about that?" Ben glanced at him sideways, grin already forming. "Because I distinctly remember a specific smile. In class. Directed at you. I was there. I saw it happen."
"That smile meant nothing."
"It meant something."
"It was a smile, Ben. People smile. It’s a normal human function."
"Not that smile. That was a smile smile." Ben settled onto the bench, gripping the bar. "I know the difference. I’ve studied smiles extensively. It’s basically my minor."
"You don’t have a minor."
"Exactly. That’s how dedicated I am to the craft."
Jason shook his head, deciding the argument wasn’t worth continuing, and stepped back to give Ben room as he started his own set, the same machine, same motion Jason had just finished, arms considerably more practiced at making it look effortless.
He’s not going to let this go, Jason thought, glancing back toward where Vivian had been standing. He never lets anything go. This is going to follow me home.
He told himself he was just checking, confirming she was still there, nothing more than that, and then found his attention staying a beat longer than the excuse really covered.
She’d started her own set nearby, dumbbells in each hand, focused entirely on her form, dark hair pulled back, gym clothes practical rather than flashy, the kind of outfit that suggested she came here to actually work rather than be looked at, which somehow made it harder not to look.
Okay. Fine. She’s objectively attractive. That’s just a fact, not an opinion. I’m allowed to observe facts.
There was an ease to the way she moved, controlled, unhurried, like she’d done this enough times that her body had stopped needing her full attention for it, and Jason caught himself watching the whole motion of it a little longer than strictly necessary before catching himself and looking away.
This is exactly what Ben’s been trying to bait me into he thought, forcing his eyes back toward his own bag, his own water bottle, anything else in the gym that wasn’t currently mid-set fifteen feet away.
I am not giving him the satisfaction.
He lasted about ten seconds before looking again.
It’s not a big deal. People look at people. This is a public gym. Looking is basically the unofficial second activity everyone here is doing.
He was midway through mentally defending the completely reasonable, entirely innocent nature of simply existing in the same room as an attractive person, when Vivian set the dumbbells down with a soft clatter, straightened up, and turned.
Directly toward him.
Their eyes met.
Jason’s stomach did something sudden and uncoordinated, the specific lurch of a man caught doing something he’d just spent thirty seconds convincing himself he wasn’t really doing.
Oh no. Oh no, did she hear that? Obviously she didn’t hear that, thoughts don’t have volume, get it together, Jason.
He held perfectly still for a beat too long, unsure whether the correct move was to smile, look away casually, or simply pretend he’d been staring at some fascinating piece of gym equipment directly behind her the entire time.
Beside him, Ben, mid-rep, caught the whole thing out of the corner of his eye and made a small, delighted sound that was somehow worse than if he’d just said something outright.
Vivian smiled, easy and unbothered, the kind of smile that suggested getting caught staring wasn’t exactly a novel experience for her, and then turned back to her things, crouching to zip up her gym bag.
Okay. Crisis averted, Jason exhaled slightly, already relaxing his shoulders.
She smiled, that’s just politeness, that’s just a normal human being acknowledging another human being exists in a shared space. Nothing more happening here.
He was in the middle of congratulating himself on surviving the interaction unscathed when she stood back up, slung the bag over one shoulder, and started walking. Toward him.
She’s coming over. Why the hell is she coming over.
Outwardly, Jason kept his face carefully neutral, leaning slightly against the machine like a man who had never once panicked in his life, while internally he was rapidly reviewing every possible opening line and discarding each one as somehow worse than the last.
Vivian stopped a comfortable distance away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and looked at him with the easy confidence of someone who genuinely didn’t overthink walking up to people.
"Hey. You were in my class, right? Chem?"
Right. Class. Good, that’s a solvable topic.
"Yeah. Back corner, usually."
"I knew it." She smiled wider, like she’d just confirmed a small private theory. "I’m Vivian."
"Jason."
"I know." She said it simply, no teasing edge to it, just fact. "Professor’s called on you a couple times. You’re the guy who always looks personally offended by cold calls."
Jason huffed something close to a laugh. "That obvious?"
"Extremely. Full body flinch every time he opens his mouth to pick a name." She tilted her head slightly, studying him with open curiosity rather than judgment. "I’m Vivian, by the way. In case that wasn’t already covered."
"You said that already."
"Did I? See, this is what happens when I talk to people I’ve never actually talked to before. I front-load. It’s a flaw." She said it without a trace of embarrassment, more like she was simply narrating an observed fact about herself.
Ben, still mid-set behind them, made no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he was listening to every word, grinning at the bar like it had personally told him a great joke.
"So," Vivian continued, glancing briefly around the gym before settling her attention back on Jason, "you actually work out. Interesting. In class you kind of give off library energy. No offense."
"None taken. I think that’s fair, honestly."
"Do you come here a lot? I feel like I would’ve clocked you before now."
Define a lot. Define now. This is my first day and I already look like this and I have no idea how to explain either of those facts.
"First time here, actually. New thing I’m trying."
"Huh. Well, you’re doing better than most first-timers." She nodded slightly toward the machine he’d been using earlier.
"That’s usually where people either go way too heavy and hurt themselves, or way too light and just stand there looking confused."
"Which one was I giving off?"
"Neither, actually. Which was surprising." She said it plainly, not a compliment exactly, just an honest observation delivered without any effort to soften or dress it up.
Jason found himself oddly grateful for the bluntness. It was easier to talk to someone who just said things than someone constantly performing careful diplomacy. "Good to know I’m exceeding expectations at something today."
"Don’t get used to it. First-day energy fades fast." She grinned. "Ask me how I know."
"How do you know?"
"Because I did the exact same thing. Showed up, felt like a superhero, could barely lift my arms for a week straight afterward." She shrugged. "Worth it, though."
Jason nodded slowly, filing that information away with more genuine curiosity than the topic probably warranted.
"Speaking of exceeding expectations, actually, you did that in class last week. That question about the anchoring bias experiment. Nobody else in that room had an answer, and you just had it ready."
Something shifted slightly in her expression, a flicker of pleased surprise, like she hadn’t expected him to have noticed, let alone brought it up first. "You remember that?"
"Kind of hard not to. The silence in that room was deafening right before you answered. Professor looked personally relieved someone finally saved him."
She laughed, short and genuine, and it was a different sound than her usual easy confidence, something a little more unguarded underneath it.
"I’d actually done the reading that week. Rare occurrence. Don’t get used to that either."
"Noted. Add it to the list of things not to get used to."
"Growing list, apparently." She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, glancing briefly toward the entrance, and Jason recognized the small shift in her posture as someone wrapping up rather than settling in further.
"Anyway," she said, "I should get going. Class stuff waiting for me at home that I’m definitely not excited about."
"Good luck with that."
"I’ll need it." She gave him a small, easy wave, already turning to leave. "See you Thursday, back corner guy."
"See you."
She walked off toward the exit, unhurried, the same easy confidence in her stride that had carried her over here in the first place, and Jason watched her go a beat longer than strictly necessary, the same way he had earlier, except this time there was no need to pretend to himself he wasn’t doing it.
Okay. She’s genuinely nice. And still, annoyingly, exactly as attractive as I already knew.
He looked away just as Ben set the bar back onto the rack with a loud, deliberate clatter, clearly done pretending he hadn’t heard every single word of that conversation.
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