ZION

By the time the final whistle sounded, the sun was peaking over the eastern mountains. My body was trembling, soaked in sweat, every muscle screaming. I dropped to my knees, forcing my chest to rise and fall.

Tristan crouched a few feet away, hands on his knees, sweat dripping down the line of his body. His shirt clung to him, plastered against the hard ridges of his body, every breath drawing his chest tighter. I caught myself staring, no, admiring, the way his muscles ...