change {h.s}

1: Return

Heat rose in my throat while I stood up on the pedals to continue my spinning exercise. Sweat cascaded from my hairline onto my forehead, droplets lined my eyebrow while I inhaled slowly. The bikes were kept in the lower corner of the gym, and only three bikes were available. Everybody was so focused on toning their abs or triceps that they don't realize that cardio is just as important as weight training. Unfortunately, the corner of the gym wasn't blessed with AC due to the fact that it was out of the way for circulation. But, there was an upside to being in the corner of the gym; I had a decent view of all of the sweaty teenage boys in revealing muscle tees and their protruding biceps. 

Just fifteen more seconds and I can sit down.

Just as my butt was going to hit the very small seat, a familiar ship tattoo came into view. Blinking a couple times, I made sure I was seeing correctly while I grasped tightly onto the already moist handlebars. When my sights were confirmed, I gulped and plopped my butt down on the uncomfortable cushion. After I adjusted the pressure on the pedals, the familiar stranger took a seat at a machine designed to work your out your back. I gripped the handlebars tighter when I noticed that his seat made it so that his back faced my front. So, with every weight he added, I could see the tightening of his muscles. 

God, why do I have to be so attracted to back muscles?

I practically whined to myself when I realized I hit my 30 minute mark. 

Great, now I have to enjoy another 30 minutes on the treadmill.

Groaning, my cycling came to a stop and I stood to retrieve my damp towel and water bottle. Of course, it was the day that I was doing cardio that I forgot my phone to listen to music on. I always hated the nasty remixes of popular songs the gym played. You can't turn a Sam Smith hit single into a trap song. Once I completed my five minute warm up of walking, I adjusted to a faster speed and began to jog. 

While I began to pickup my rhythm, a body (definitely male) placed itself on the treadmill right beside me. 

Man, why did you have to do that? There are like five other treadmill's on either side of me that are empty. Now you have to listen to me heaving and huffing. 

I didn't dare look at the guy, because right when I spotted the same ship tattoo on his bicep, I didn't feel like making myself known. I tried to keep my heavy breathing to a minimum while I wiped the salty mess from my face. This was painful. Not only are my insides burning, but he's witnessing me breathing like a dying seal.

Maybe I should just stop and get off the treadmill. I contemplated the idea for a second.

No. You are finishing your workout, you are not a quitter. I nodded to myself in reassurance. 

My thirty minutes came to a slow end and I wasn't hostile to gathering my things and making my way off the deadly machine. 

"You weren't even going to say hi, Alina?" His voice wasn't loud but full with amusement. 

shit.

Turning around, I bit my lip while I watched him press his machine to a stop. He turned, resting his back on the control panel of the machine while I stood at the end of mine. Clearing my throat, I looked his figure up and down. Sweat shined on his face and it held his curls back in place where he pushed them. He breathed heavily out of his mouth and his tan, toned, tattooed arms crossed over in front of him. 

"Well, I wasn't sure you would remember me, Harry," I replied as I gripped the handles beside me tightly. His eyes squinted while he rolled his lips together. He stepped away from the control panel and made his way closer.