Chapter 4: The Stretching Partner
The gymnasium smelled like rubber and determination, a crisp cocktail that usually sharpened Jennie's focus. Today, it only made her teeth ache from the force of her clenched jaw. She stood near the water fountain, her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her sleek black leggings, watching the scene unfold across the polished floor with the intensity of a hawk tracking prey.
Leonid was on his back, one knee bent, his arms stretched overhead as he breathed through the stretch. His grey t-shirt had ridden up, exposing a sliver of pale skin and the cut of his obliques. He looked ridiculous. He looked beautiful. He looked completely, infuriatingly oblivious to the fact that Marcus's hands were currently on his thighs.
Mr. Chen had paired them up five minutes ago, his whistle still dangling around his neck as he'd gestured vaguely at the class. "Partner stretches, people. Two minutes each. Focus on the hip flexors and hamstrings. Don't be shy."
Marcus had volunteered before anyone else could move. "I'll take Manoban." His voice was too cheerful, his grin too wide. He was a senior from the rugby team, broad-shouldered and tan, the kind of guy who laughed too loud and slapped people on the back with unnecessary force. He'd transferred to Seoul International last semester from somewhere abroad—Australia, maybe, or New Zealand—and he'd developed a habit of orbiting Leonid like a planet drawn to gravity's pull.
Jennie hadn't noticed at first. But she noticed everything now.
"Okay, mate, just relax into it," Marcus was saying, his accent lilting and easy. He had one hand on Leonid's shoulder, pressing down, while the other guided his bent knee toward his chest. "You're super tight here. Do you stretch at all?"
Leonid grunted. "I stretch enough."
"Clearly not." Marcus laughed, his thumb digging into the meat of Leonid's quad. "I could feel this knot from across the room. Don't you get massages or anything?"
"I get plenty of—"
"Jennie's watching," Marcus interrupted, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that carried across the space anyway. "She looks like she wants to kill me."
"She always looks like that."
"No, mate. This is different. This is the 'I've hidden a body before and I'll do it again' look."
Leonid's laugh was low and genuine, and Jennie saw his shoulders shake with it. The sound should have soothed her. It didn't. Because he was laughing with Marcus, sharing a private joke at her expense, and the heat that had been simmering in her chest all period flared into something sharper.
She pushed off the wall.
Her footsteps were silent as she crossed the gym floor, weaving between pairs of students locked in various stages of contortion. A girl in pigtails was assisting her partner into a hamstring stretch, her voice high and encouraging. Two guys from the soccer team were arguing about proper form, their voices rising. She ignored all of it. Her eyes never left Marcus's hands.
He had moved on from Leonid's thigh. His fingers were now splayed across Leonid's lower back, pressing him into a deeper stretch as Leonid lay face-down on the mat. Marcus was leaning over him, his mouth close to Leonid's ear, murmuring something she couldn't hear.
Leonid's eyes were closed. He didn't see the way Marcus's gaze trailed down his spine. He didn't see the way Marcus's hips swayed slightly as he shifted his weight. He didn't see anything at all.
But Jennie did.
"Swap," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Marcus looked up, startled. His hands froze on Leonid's back. Leonid's eyes snapped open, and he rolled onto his side, blinking up at her with confusion.
"Jen? We're not done yet—"
"You're done." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm taking over. You can go stretch with someone else, Marcus. I'm sure there's plenty of other people who'd love to have your hands on them."
Marcus's grin faltered. He straightened, his hands rising in mock surrender. "Hey, no worries. I was just helping him out."
"I'm sure you were." Her voice was honey laced with arsenic. "But I've got him now. Thanks for your assistance."
There was a beat of silence. Marcus looked at Leonid, then at Jennie, then back at Leonid again. Something flickered in his expression—annoyance, maybe, or amusement. He shrugged, easy and careless. "No dramas. Catch you later, mate."
He walked away, his stride unhurried. Jennie watched him go, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She wanted to call him back. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tell him to keep his dirty, wandering hands to himself before she broke every single one of his fingers.
Instead, she dropped to her knees on the mat beside Leonid, her movements stiff and controlled.
"What the hell was that?" Leonid asked, his voice low.
"What was what?"
"That." He gestured vaguely in Marcus's direction. "He was just helping me stretch. There was no need to bite his head off."
"He was touching you."
"Yeah, that's kind of what partner stretching involves."
"Not like that." Her jaw tightened. "He was touching you like that."
Leonid stared at her. His dark eyes searched her face, and she could see the gears turning behind them—the careful, cautious processing of her moods that had become second nature to him over the years. She hated that he had to do that. She hated that she made him tiptoe around her emotions. But she hated Marcus more.
"Jennie." His voice was soft, gentle. He reached out, his hand closing around her wrist. "He was just being friendly. That's how he is with everyone."
"Friendly." She repeated the word like it was a curse. "Is that what you call it when someone's hands wander a little too close to your dick?"
Leonid's eyebrows shot up. "What? He wasn't—he didn't—his hands were on my back, Jennie. That's where they were."
"I saw him." Her voice cracked. "I saw the way he looked at you. The way his eyes followed your body. You were lying there with your eyes closed, completely vulnerable, and he was just looking at you like you were a piece of meat."
"So what?" Leonid sat up fully, his voice rising. "People look at me. I can't control that. I can't control the way other people see me. I can only control what I do, and I wasn't doing anything wrong."
"I know." The words came out small, choked. She hated how fragile she sounded, how weak. She was Jennie Kim. She was the president of the student council. She had a 4.0 GPA and a black belt in making people regret crossing her. She did not fall apart over a boy.
But she did.
She always did.
"I know you weren't doing anything wrong," she continued, her voice steadier now. "But that doesn't mean I have to like watching someone else put their hands on you."
Leonid's expression softened. He scooted closer, his knees brushing against hers. "Hey. Come here."
She resisted for a moment, her body stiff. Then she let out a shaky breath and leaned into him, her forehead resting against his shoulder. He smelled like sweat and soap and the faint, lingering ghost of cigarette smoke. He always smelled like that. It was a smell she'd come to associate with safety, with home.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shirt. "I know I'm crazy."
"You're not crazy." His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. "You're just... passionate."
"That's a nice word for it."
"I'm a nice guy." She felt him smile against her hair. "I use nice words for the woman I love."
She pulled back, her eyes searching his face. "You really don't think he was flirting with you?"
"I really don't think about Marcus at all, to be honest."
A laugh bubbled up in her throat, unexpected and bright. She pressed her hand against her mouth, surprised by the sound. "You're impossible."
"I'm yours." He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "That's all that matters."
The warmth of his lips against her skin melted the ice in her chest. She let out a slow breath, her shoulders dropping. For a moment, the gymnasium faded away—the smell of sweat, the chatter of students, the echo of sneakers on polished wood. All that existed was him.
Then Mr. Chen's whistle pierced the air.
"Okay, people, that's enough! Switch partners. Let's go, let's go!"
Jennie's blood ran cold.
She looked up, her eyes darting around the room. Students were already shifting, mingling, pairing up for the next rotation. And Marcus was weaving through the crowd, his eyes locked on Leonid, his mouth curved into that easy, infuriating grin.
"Manoban! You're with me again, yeah?"
Jennie moved before she could think. She stepped between Marcus and Leonid, her chin lifted, her eyes blazing. "No."
Marcus blinked. "No?"
"He's with me."
"But Mr. Chen said we have to rotate—"
"I don't care what Mr. Chen said." Her voice was ice. "He's with me."
Marcus's grin flickered. He looked past her, toward Leonid, searching for backup. But Leonid was watching Jennie with an expression she couldn't quite read—something caught between exasperation and adoration.
"Mate, you gonna let her call the shots?" Marcus asked, his tone light but edged with something sharper.
Leonid's eyes never left Jennie's. He smiled slowly, a dangerous, beautiful thing. "Yeah," he said. "I am."
Marcus held up his hands, stepping back. "Fair enough. I know when I'm not wanted."
He turned and walked away. But before he disappeared into the crowd, he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on Leonid for a moment too long. Jennie saw it. Her fists clenched.
She turned to Leonid, her voice low and fierce. "He looked at you again."
"I know." Leonid stepped closer, his hands settling on her hips. "But I'm looking at you."
"He's going to try something. I can feel it."
"Let him try." Leonid's thumb traced small circles against her hip. "I can handle myself."
"That's not the point." She pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms. "The point is that he shouldn't have to try anything in the first place. The point is that you're mine."
"I know I'm yours." He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "Christ, Jennie, I've been yours since I was four years old. What more do I have to do to prove it to you?"
She shivered. His breath was warm against her skin, his words sinking into her bones. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let go of the fear, the jealousy, the desperate, clawing need to possess every piece of him.
But Marcus was still in the room. And as long as he was here, as long as anyone else was here, she couldn't breathe easy.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I'm like this."
"Don't be sorry." He pulled back, his hands cupping her face. "Just be mine."
"I am." Her voice cracked. "I am, Leonid. More than you'll ever know."
He smiled, soft and warm, and leaned down to kiss her. It was gentle at first, a tender brush of lips. Then her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that bordered on desperation. She poured everything she couldn't say into that kiss—the fear, the love, the possessiveness, the all-consuming need to keep him safe from a world full of people who wanted to take him away from her.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard. The gymnasium had gone quiet around them. Mr. Chen was staring at them with his mouth slightly open. A few students were whispering.
Jennie didn't care.
She reached up, adjusting the collar of Leonid's shirt, smoothing the wrinkles she'd created. Her fingers lingered on his skin, tracing the line of his collarbone.
"You're mine," she said, her voice soft but steel-edged. "Don't forget that."
"Never." He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I couldn't forget it if I tried."
They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Then the whistle sounded again, sharp and insistent, and Mr. Chen's voice rang out across the gym.
"Jennie! Leonid! Save it for after class. We're not done here."
A few students laughed. Jennie felt her cheeks flush, but she didn't look away from Leonid. Neither did he.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, her voice light, teasing.
He grinned, a slow, wicked thing. "I'll be there."
She walked backward toward her spot on the mats, her eyes never leaving his. Even as she turned away, she could feel his gaze on her back, warm and steady as a flame.
But as she settled into her next stretch, her eyes drifted across the room—and found Marcus watching her. His grin was gone. In its place was something darker, something calculating.
Something that made her blood run cold.
She looked away, her jaw tight. She'd won this battle. But she had a sinking feeling, heavy and cold in the pit of her stomach, that the war was just beginning.