Page 19 of Isla

"You were having too good of a time getting to know her to end it that quickly."

He slows and looks over at me, dark shaggy hair ruffling in the wind, a huge smile on his face. "Thank you, Isla. It's been a while since I've driven a car like this."

"Did you used to race with Theo?" I ask, trying to keep my breathing under control as he grabs my hand and pulls it into his lap.

"Another lifetime ago. I was eighteen and thought I could make it with the big boys." He moves our hands to the gear stick, shifting through the gears as we accelerate. Fucking hell.

"What happened?"

"Theo got in a wreck, and it scared the shit out of me. Seeing him in that hospital bed drove home the risks. I decided I wanted to be around to have a family one day. I never raced again."

I want to ask about what happened to Theo, but I know it will mean more when–if–he opens up and tells me himself. Henry follows my directions and pulls into the parking lot, ducking to get a full view of the building.

"I thought you said this was a small gym."

"It is. Well, at least it started that way." I key the code in the door, and Henry opens it for me, following me through, a chorus of hellos greeting us. "Henry, this is everyone." I raise my voice, "Everyone, this is Henry!" He waves at them, a shy, goofy smile on his face.

"You want to meet back here in an hour?" I ask, checking my watch.

"I thought we were working out together," he asks, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Oh. "That seems like a horrible idea," I blurt out.

"Am I really that bad? Do I smell?" he asks, looking horrified.

"No," I grumble, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to thesquat racks so we’re not making a scene. "I'll only work out with you if you show me how to get quads like yours." Henry sits on a bench, peeling off his hoodie to reveal a fitted athletic shirt. God. This is going to be absolute fucking torture. He slides off his sweatpants next, revealing shorts that perfectly show off the corded muscle of his thighs.

"Damn boi, he thicc!" Lach calls across the gym, wiggling his eyebrows when I look at him in mortification.

"That's a compliment coming from him," I say, my words muffled as I pull my sweater over my head.

He drops his face into his hands, peeking out at me through his fingers. "Damn it, Isla."

"What?" I look down at my sports bra, making sure everything's tucked in. His shoulder is warm beneath my palm as I use him to steady myself as I slip off my shoes and drop my yoga pants, folding everything up and stacking it neatly on the end of the bench, waiting for him to do the same. He stands without looking at me, setting his clothes beside mine.

"What's first?" I ask, trying to keep the smile off my face as he looks everywhere but directly at me.

"I usually start with split squats."

"Aren't those when you put your foot on a bench behind you and squat with one leg? Like this?"

He faces away from me and drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you not going to look at me the whole time?"

"What's that saying? Gouge your eye out if it causes you to sin?"

"If that's the case, we can gouge them out together because I've been sinning since you took your sweats off."

"You're not making this any easier."

"We're adults. I chose to wear this here. It's what I always work out in." He doesn't say anything. "I'm giving you explicit permission to look at me, Henry."

He turns finally. "Fuck," he says softly, his gaze like electricitycrackling over my skin. "I think you were right. It would be better if we work out separately."

"Scared of a little tension?" I tease.

"A little?" He steps closer, backing me against the squat rack. "There's nothing little about this." He doesn't even have to touch me for my body to respond to him. My nipples harden under his gaze, the energy buzzing between us lodging in my core, burning like wildfire through my veins.

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