Chapter 18: Strength Showdown
The silence stretched, thick and heavy with the unspoken. Priya stood like a statue, the only movement the subtle tremor in her deltoids and the slow, controlled expansion of her ribs with each breath. Rohan could feel the hard drum of her heartbeat through his side, a steady, powerful rhythm that contrasted with the frantic flutter in his own chest.
Arjun was the first to break. A slow, disbelieving chuckle escaped him as he hung there, completely defeated. "Okay. Okay, you win. You can put the mere mortals down now, Hercules."
Priya’s focused expression broke into a grin. She didn't drop them. Instead, she lowered them with the same unnerving control, setting Rohan gently on his feet first, his knees buckling slightly before he caught himself on the treadmill handle. Then she deposited Arjun, who landed with a soft thud, immediately rubbing his lower back with a theatrical wince.
"Where did that come from?" Arjun asked, his voice a mix of awe and accusation. He gestured vaguely at her. "This. All of this."
She shrugged, rolling her shoulders back. "My mom's side of the family. Farm stock. You don't ask a ox where it gets its strength." She flexed her arm, watching the muscle contract with a detached curiosity. "Besides, you never asked."
The casual dismissal was more powerful than any boast. It rendered Arjun's entire worldview—one built on gym maxes and rugby tackles—suddenly fragile. He stared at her, really stared, as if seeing her for the first time.
Rohan adjusted his glasses, his hands still unsteady. The feeling of being so effortlessly handled, twice in one afternoon, was leaving a strange residue. It wasn't just embarrassment anymore. It was something else, something hotter and more confusing prickling under his skin.
"You good, man?" Arjun clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of it.
"Yeah. Fine." Rohan's voice came out a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Just... processing the fact that I'm apparently lighter than your gym bag."
Arjun laughed, but his eyes were still on Priya, a new, competitive glint forming. "Okay, new challenge. Different kind of test." He pointed at Rohan, then at Priya. "You carried him. I've carried him. Who can do it longer?"
Rohan felt his face grow warm. "I am not a piece of furniture."
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Arjun's confidence was flooding back, redirected. "A real endurance test. I bet my rugby stamina against your... farm stock."
Priya raised an eyebrow, a slow, challenging smile spreading across her face. "You're on. But we're not just standing still. We're walking. Laps. Around the gym."
The gym was small, maybe fifteen feet across. Laps would be tedious, intimate. A circus.
Before Rohan could protest, Arjun swept him up again, this time in a fireman's carry over his shoulder. The world tilted, blood rushing to Rohan's head. He grunted, the hard cap of Arjun's shoulder digging into his diaphragm. "Dude, this is not comfortable!"
"Stop squirming, you'll throw off my balance!" Arjun boomed, already starting a confident stride around the perimeter of the room. His gait was strong, steady. This was his element—endurance, motion. Rohan bounced with each step, his view limited to the floor and Arjun's muscular back. He could smell the faint, sharp scent of Arjun's deodorant mixing with fresh sweat.
After three laps, Arjun was breathing deeply but steadily. "See? Easy. Like carrying a backpack."
"Charming," Rohan muttered into Arjun's jersey.
"My turn," Priya said, stepping into their path.
Arjun swung Rohan down. The blood rushed back from his head, making him dizzy for a second. Before he could get his bearings, Priya moved. She didn't hoist him over her shoulder. She turned her back to him, reached behind, and pulled him up onto her back in a piggyback.
It was different. Instinctively, his arms went around her neck, his legs around her waist. He was pressed flush against her back, his chest to her spine. He could feel the defined muscles of her latissimus dorsi through her tank top, the solidity of her frame. It was secure. Surprisingly comfortable.
She started walking. Her pace was smoother than Arjun's, more fluid. There was no jarring bounce, just a powerful, rolling motion. He was acutely aware of the heat of her body, the way her hair tickled his cheek. He tried to hold himself rigid, to create some space, but it was useless. He was stuck to her.
Sweat began to trickle down the small of his back, a cold, uncomfortable slide. It wasn't from the heat; it was from the sheer, overwhelming intimacy of the position and the silence. Arjun was counting laps, his voice a background noise. Priya wasn't even breathing hard.
"You okay up there?" she asked, her voice calm, conversational.
"Yeah," he managed, his own voice tight.
He could feel the shift and play of every muscle in her back and shoulders as she moved. This wasn't just being carried. This was being enveloped. He remembered the feeling of being cradled in her arms, the shocking gentleness paired with that impossible strength. His face was burning now, a deep, mortifying heat that had nothing to do with exertion.
Arjun, watching them, stopped counting. His playful smirk had faded into something more thoughtful, more observant. He saw the way Rohan was holding on, the unnatural stiffness in his body. He saw the effortless way Priya moved, as if Rohan weighed nothing more than a light jacket.
The hum of the treadmill was the only sound for a long moment, punctuated by the soft, sure sound of Priya's footsteps on the concrete floor. The competition had evaporated, replaced by a new, unspoken tension that thickened the air in the small room. Rohan closed his eyes, praying for it to be over, and yet, a treacherous part of him didn't want the feeling to end.