Awakening Scarlett
READING AGE 18+
The scent of eucalyptus and sweat hung in the air like a badge of dedication. The gym was half-full—mid-morning on a Tuesday always was. Enough people to keep the place alive, but quiet enough that Scarlett could think while counting reps.
"Three more, Lizzie. Come on," she encouraged, crouching beside her client, who was grimacing mid-lunge. "Push through the burn."
Lizzie just so happened to be Scarletts best friend and they ran the gym together... a dream they had since high school.
"I'm pushing," Lizzie huffed, her voice cracking under the strain. "You're a sadist, you know that?"
Scarlett grinned. "Sadist, maybe. Effective, definitely."
Lizzie collapsed onto the mat after the final rep, arms splayed, chest heaving. Scarlett handed her a water bottle and stood, wiping her hands on her towel. At 5'7", with toned arms and a no-nonsense ponytail, Scarlett Reed looked every bit the dedicated trainer. But her sharp green eyes hinted at a mind always running—questioning, observing, absorbing.
She checked her watch. 10:14 a.m. Her next client was a new sign-up. "Damon Wolfe"—that name didn’t ring any bells, but the front desk had emphasized new and important, which usually meant spoiled or high-maintenance.
Scarlett rolled her eyes, already imagining a chiseled influencer type, probably asking if protein powder counted as a meal.
A chime sounded from the front door, followed by a low murmur from the reception area. Scarlett glanced over, mid-sip from her water bottle—and promptly forgot how to swallow.
The man walking in wasn’t just tall—he commanded space. Lean muscle under a plain black t-shirt, dark jeans molded to long legs, and a presence that shifted the air. His hair was black, slightly tousled, like he'd just run through a forest—or maybe a dream. A jagged scar sliced through his left eyebrow, giving him a dangerous edge, but his face was… beautiful, in a way that didn't seem entirely real. Eyes like storm clouds locked onto hers, and for a split second, Scarlett’s chest tightened in a way she didn’t understand.
"Scarlett?" He said her name like he already knew it, like he’d spoken it before.
She blinked. "Uh, yeah. That’s me."
He extended his hand. "Damon Wolfe. I’m your 10:15."
Unfold
Scarlett didn’t run far. Not really.
She told herself it was distance—space to think, to breathe, to stop feeling like she was being watched by a dozen pairs of unnaturally steady eyes. But truthfully, she didn’t know what she was doing.
By the time the sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of amber and ash, she’d……
Waiting for the first comment……