Page 38 of The Prime-Time Experiment

“I do,” she said, more certain now. “Your physical capability does not align with the limitations you described.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, low and unforced. “Alright,” he said. “Then we’ll call it even. You don’t trust my self-assessment, and I don’t trust your ability to go easy on yourself.”

The tension sitting between her shoulder blades loosened by a fraction. “Okay,” she said.

Declan nodded once.

“Okay. We start simple today with the baseline movements you’ve been watching the other participants do. And I’ll tell you what’s coming before it happens.”

That helped. More importantly, he followed through.

Every instruction arrived before she needed it. When he wanted her to adjust something, he explained why first, demonstrated it, then gave her the space to attempt it herself without immediately stepping in. Nothing changed halfway through an exercise. Nothing became something else without warning.

The contrast was impossible to miss. During their first session, he had seemed almost determined to disrupt her expectations. Today, he was doing the opposite. He was creating them, then meeting them consistently.

Riley found herself watching for the moment it would stop. It didn’t.

As the session continued, the vigilance she’d arrived with gradually became unnecessary. Her attention shifted away from monitoring him and onto the movements themselves. Instead of trying to anticipate what might happen next, she could focus on what was happening now.

Declan noticed the change before she did. “See?” he said as she reset her stance. “World-class instructor.”

Riley glanced at him. “That remains statistically unlikely.”

His hand went immediately to his chest. “Honestly, Riley, your lack of faith in me is devastating.”

The corner of her mouth lifted before she could stop it. The reaction was automatic enough that she barely registered it. Declan did. He went still for half a second, his expression changing so quickly she almost missed it.

“Okay,” he said quietly. The teasing disappeared completely. “You have a really nice smile.”

Riley blinked, heat climbing up her neck with startling speed. “I—”

Nothing followed. Her thoughts seemed to scatter the moment she tried to organise them. There was no prepared response for being looked at like that, no framework she could reach for that would allow her to categorise the comment and move on.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, to her relief, Declan simply nodded. “Alright,” he said easily, stepping back into the rhythm of the session. “One more set.”

He didn’t linger on it. Didn’t repeat himself or attempt to extract a reaction from her. Somewhere beneath her embarrassment, Riley recognised the significance of that.

The old Declan would have pushed. This version had learned when not to.

By the time they finished, Riley’s breathing elevated and a comfortable warmth sat beneath her skin. The session remained consistent from beginning to end, following the structure Declan outlined at the start and never once demanding that she recalibrate around an unexpected change.

That, more than the exercises themselves, felt significant. Declan reached for the camera positioned near the edge of the gym and adjusted it until it framed both of them.

“How’d you go?” he asked. “First proper session.”

Riley’s gaze flicked briefly toward the lens before returning to him. “The exercises were effective,” she said. “The sequencing improved efficiency.”

“Anything you’d change?”

She considered the question seriously. “I dislike this shirt.”

His eyebrows rose. “Strong feelings.”

“The fabric adhered to my skin as my temperature increased,” she explained. “The change in texture became distracting.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Fair enough.”

His gaze dropped to his own shirt for a moment before he looked back at her. “I’ll give you one of mine next time.”