I'm drawn to him... like a moth to a flame.
Liana
Elias had turned one corner of the house into a gym.
A full one.
With weights, a bench, resistance bands, and all those heavy things that look like they belong in a superhero movie.
I never really paid attention to it before.
It was just... background.
Like the sound of his blender in the morning or the scent of his cologne lingering in the hallway.
But today, I noticed it.
Because today, I watched him use it.
He was doing chest presses, lying on the bench, lifting a bar that looked like it could crush me in one drop.
His arms moved in slow, controlled motions.
Every repetition pulled veins to the surface.
His forearms were dusted with sweat. Tight. Corded with muscle.
His T-shirt clung to his back and shoulders like it was trying to survive.
My throat went dry.
I didn't know why.
I wasn't scared.
I wasn't even embarrassed.
I was... curious.
Was this what people meant when they said someone was attractive?
Because I'd seen good-looking people before. On TV. In magazines.
But none of them made my stomach feel weird.
None of them made me forget how to blink.
I sat on the floor a few feet away, pretending to scroll through my phone.
But I wasn't looking at anything.
I was watching him.
And I didn't understand why.
Why I couldn't take my eyes off him?
He finished his set and sat up, grabbing a towel to wipe his face.
He noticed me then.
"What are you doing there?" he asked, taking a sip from his water bottle.
I tried to sound normal. "Nothing."
He raised a brow. "You've been sitting there for twenty minutes."
I blinked. "Oh. I guess I lost track of time."
He chuckled. "That's a first."
I hesitated.
Then said it.
"Can you teach me?"
He paused mid-drink. "Teach you what?"
I pointed at the weights. "That. Working out."
He looked at me like I'd just asked to join the army.
"You want to lift weights?"
"I want to exercise," I clarified. "You always say it's good for me."
"I do," he said slowly. "But you always change the subject."
"I'm not changing it now."
He set the bottle down, still watching me.
"Why the sudden interest?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Because I didn't know how to explain.
Because "I just want to be near you" sounded pathetic.
Because "I like watching your arms move" wasn't a real reason.
Because "I want you to look at me like I'm not a fragile little thing" was too close to the truth.
So I shrugged. "I just want to try."
His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted.
Not warmer. Not softer.
But focused.
"You sure?"
I nodded. "Yes."
He stood, grabbing a mat from the wall and laying it down in front of me.
"All right. Let's start with the basics. No weights yet. Just movement."
He guided me into a squat.
Hands out, feet shoulder-width apart.
I tried.
I wobbled.
My legs trembled before I even bent halfway.
Elias laughed a little, the way you would laugh when you see a puppy trip.
I knew he wasn't laughing at me.
But I was a little embarrassed.
He said with a smile, "It's a start."
We went through a few stretches, lunges, something called a plank.
Everything burned.
My arms shook.
My face flushed—not from the exercise, but from how close he stood.
How calmly he corrected my posture.
How sometimes, when his fingers brushed my shoulder or back, I felt that buzz again.
That strange, tingling, skin-deep awareness.
Like my body noticed something before my mind caught up.
After fifteen minutes, I collapsed onto the mat.
Elias crouched beside me, handing me a water bottle.
"You good?"
"I think I'm dying," I muttered.
He smiled. "Nah. Just sweating. That's different."
I looked at him again.
His jaw was sharp. His neck glistened. His shirt had darkened around the chest.
His whole body looked like it had been carved for battle and built for comfort, all at once.
I shouldn't notice these things.
But I did.
"Thanks," I said, taking the bottle.
"Anything for my little princess."
We sat in silence for a while.
I listened to our breaths. His was even. Mine was a mess.
Then I asked, "Do you really think I can get stronger?"
He turned to me. "I know you can."
Not maybe. Not if you try.
Just... I know.
Like he'd already decided it for me.
And in that moment, I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to be someone strong. Someone capable.
Someone he wouldn't have to save all the time.