The gym was a chaotic symphony of clanking weights, rhythmic thuds of sneakers on treadmills, and the low grunts of exertion. Sweat hung in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of metal and rubber. Jace wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his muscles still buzzing from a heavy set of deadlifts, when his gaze snagged on a familiar figure across the crowded space. Perla. Her curvy frame was unmistakable, wrapped in those damn black spandex shorts that had haunted his dreams for months. They hugged her hips like a second skin, accentuating every dip and swell as she bent over to adjust a dumbbell. His throat tightened, a rush of heat and memory slamming into him like a rogue barbell.
He froze, gripping the towel around his neck a little too hard. She was laughing—head thrown back, all teeth and confidence—with some generic gym bro who looked like he’d been sculpted from a protein shake ad. Her attention was completely elsewhere, as if Jace didn’t even exist in her orbit. The sight twisted something deep in his chest, a bitter cocktail of longing and resentment. He could still hear her voice from those late-night confessions, her whispered secrets under the dim glow of streetlights, the way they’d been so close… until she’d chosen that idiot boyfriend of hers without so much as a backward glance. The sting of it burned fresh, even now, months later.
His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. Enough. He wasn’t going to stand here simmering in his own misery. Today was the day. He was done letting her live rent-free in his head. He’d lay it all out—every jagged edge of hurt she’d left behind—and make damn sure she knew exactly what she’d done to him.
Dropping his towel, Jace strode across the gym, his workout forgotten, adrenaline pumping through his veins like wildfire. His mind churned with sharp, cutting words he’d rehearsed a hundred times in the dead of night. Each step felt heavier, his heart hammering against his ribs, but he didn’t slow down. Not now. Not when he was this close to finally saying his piece.
Perla noticed him before he reached her, her dark eyes flicking up from her conversation. Surprise flashed across her face for half a second before it morphed into a smirk, her full lips curling in a way that screamed she was already three steps ahead of whatever he was about to throw at her. She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest, the motion pushing up the swell of her breasts under her tight tank top. Damn it. He forced his eyes back to her face, refusing to let her distract him.
“Well, if it isn’t the queen of ghosting herself,” Jace spat, stopping just a foot away, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His chest heaved, more from the storm inside him than the walk over. “Didn’t think I’d catch you slumming it with the mortals, Perla.”
She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to uncross her arms, her posture all sharp edges and unbothered disdain. “Oh, please, Jace. Spare me the melodrama. What, did you come over here to cry about how I didn’t text you back? Grow up.” Her tone was ice, slicing right through him, and the gym bro beside her snickered under his breath before wisely deciding to wander off.
The air between them crackled, their voices low but laced with venom. A few nearby gym-goers glanced over, sensing the tension like sharks smelling blood in the water. Jace barely noticed. His focus was all on her—those piercing eyes, that infuriating smirk. “Grow up?” he shot back, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t get to act like you didn’t rip the rug out from under me. We were—” He cut himself off, jaw tight, the words too raw to spit out. Not here. Not like this.
Perla didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. Instead, she leaned in, her face inches from his, her breath warm against his skin. “What, Jace? We were what? Besties? Confidants?” She mocked the words, her voice dripping with derision. “You’re acting like I owe you something. Newsflash: I don’t. So why don’t you say what you really want, huh? Or are you just gonna stand there pouting?”
His gaze dipped, just for a split second, to the way her spandex clung to her thighs, the curve of her waist. Old fantasies roared to life, unbidden, mixing with the anger until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. His hands itched to reach out, to grab her, to do something—anything—to break through that cool, untouchable exterior. He forced his eyes back up, meeting her taunting stare. “You think you can just walk away and pretend I don’t matter? That I didn’t feel anything?” His voice was rough, barely controlled. “I’m not some toy you get to toss aside when you’re bored.”
Their argument spiraled, old wounds tearing open with every word. Her dismissal of him as “needy.” His accusation that she’d never cared at all. Each jab landed harder, their bodies too close, their breaths too heavy. The gym around them blurred, the clank of weights fading into a distant hum. All he could feel was the heat of her, the way her presence pulled at him like gravity, even as he hated her for it.
“You wanna know the truth, Perla?” Jace said finally, his voice low and reckless, laced with something darker than anger. “I’m done being ignored. How about we settle this for real? Prove you can’t just brush me off anymore.” His words hung heavy with innuendo, a challenge he hadn’t meant to throw out but couldn’t take back.
Perla laughed, sharp and cutting, the sound like a blade against his skin. But there was a flicker in her eyes—intrigue, maybe, or something hotter—as she tilted her head, sizing him up. “Oh, Jace. You wouldn’t know what to do with me even if I gave you the chance. You’re all talk, baby. Always have been.” Her voice was a purr, a dare wrapped in mockery, and it sent a jolt straight through him.
They stood there, locked in a heated stare, the rest of the gym melting away. His pulse thundered in his ears, the line between hate and desire blurring into a dangerous, electric haze. Whatever came next, he knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
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