Chapter 83 My Hot Coach (3)

The gym was a five-minute walk from my apartment, but the morning air still hit me like a slap, crisp and sharp, waking me up more than the shower had. My purple training suit clung to me, the fabric stretching with every step, and my white sneakers—Jace’s stupidly expensive gift—felt like they were carrying me forward with purpose. My gym bag bounced against my hip, the strap digging into my shoulder, and my damp hair swung against my back, leaving little wet patches on my suit. I felt good, though—like I was walking into a scene, the kind where the music swells and everyone turns to look. My lips twitched into a smirk. Let them look. I pushed open the gym’s glass door, the metal frame cool under my palm, and a wave of familiar scents hit me—rubber mats, sweat, and that faint metallic tang of weights. The place was alive, humming with the low buzz of chatter, the clank of dumbbells, and the steady thump of someone’s playlist through the speakers. My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as I stepped inside, scanning the room. The mirrors lining the walls threw my reflection back at me—tousled hair, hazel eyes glinting with something restless, and that purple suit hugging my curves like it was painted on. My ass looked unreal, and I wasn’t mad about it.