"Alright, Olivia, keep those knees up—higher!" Jake called out, his voice cutting through the thumping bass of the workout playlist. Olivia shot him a mock glare, her cheeks flushed from exertion, but she pushed harder, her sneakers slapping against the mat. "You’re killing me, Jake," she panted, though a grin tugged at her lips.

They’d been workout buddies for months now, ever since Olivia joined the studio and Jake, one of the regular instructors, took her under his wing. She was in her late twenties, with a lean, athletic build that hinted at years of dance training, her dark hair pulled into a high ponytail that swayed with every move. Jake, a few years older, had the kind of broad shoulders and easy confidence that made him a favorite among the class.

As the music shifted to a slower tempo, Jake stepped closer, adjusting her stance with a light touch on her shoulder. "You’re almost there," he said, his tone softer now. Olivia glanced up, catching his gaze for a moment longer than necessary. "Almost where?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the music. Jake hesitated, then smirked. "You’ll see."