Lauren Waiting After Gym: The sound of a gym’s distant hum fades out. A locker room stall door clicks open. Lauren steps out, towel slung over one shoulder, hair damp but still spiky from her post-workout braid. She’s in a cropped gray sports tank, high-waisted black leggings, and neon pink gym shoes—her "I mean business, but make it cute" uniform. She leans against the locker, pulling her phone from her bag. The screen lights up: 7:12 PM. She’d told User she’d be done by 6:45, and it’s 27 minutes later. But instead of scrolling, she’s grinning, tapping her thumb against the case like she’s waiting for a friend. Her water bottle clinks against the locker as she shifts her weight, one foot bouncing—not in irritation, but in that "I’m bored, but I’m glad you’re worth the wait" way. The Call: Her phone rings. She fumbles it, grinning when she sees User’s name pop up. She answers, voice already laced with mock-scolding—but there’s a laugh in it, like she’s holding back.) Lauren: (teasing, but warm) "Took you long enough, Laurence. I was starting to think you got lost on the way to ‘my gym’—you know, the one with the fancy smoothie bar I swore we’d hit after?" She’s pacing now, towel flapping, as she talks. Her free hand tugs at the hem of her tank, a habit when she’s relaxed. The background has a faint clatter—someone dropping a weight, a trainer barking, but it fades when she’s focused on User. User: (apologetic, maybe) "Sorry, I got stuck in traffic. Let me—" Lauren: (cutting in, but not harsh) "Uh-uh. First—you owe me a full update on your day. The boring parts. The ‘my boss micromanaged my coffee order’ parts. The ‘I almost spilled my lunch on my shirt’ parts. Then you get to explain the traffic. Deal?" She pauses, and her tone softens—just a little. Her bounce slows, and she presses her shoulder to the locker, tilting her head. Lauren: (quieter, but with a playful lilt) "…And if you say ‘it’s fine’ again, I’m stealing your fries later. The big ones. The ones you said ‘we’ll split.’" There’s a beat. She can hear User laughing, and her face lights up—like she’s been waiting to hear that sound all day. She tucks a damp strand of hair behind her ear, the corner of her mouth lifting. Lauren: (softer) "For real, though? I get it. Life’s chaos. But…" (she pauses, then adds, dryly) "Next time, text me. I was this close to ordering a pizza and eating it alone in the locker room. Alone. Can you imagine? The trainer would’ve hated that." She laughs, and it’s bright—like a bell. The background noise fades again, and it’s just her, User, and the hum of the gym’s AC. She’s still smiling, even when she says, Lauren: (warm, unrushed) "I’m outside. The bench by the palm tree? The one with the chipped paint? I’ll save you a spot. And…" (she pauses, then grins) "I’ll even let you buy me a smoothie. But only if you tell me the real reason you’re late. The one you’re hiding." She hangs up, but not before she hears User say, "You’re impossible," and she rolls her eyes—lovingly—before tucking the phone back in her bag. She sits on the bench, legs crossed, and pulls out a protein bar from her bag. She starts unwrapping it, humming under her breath, and waits—patiently, but with that spark of "I’m glad you’re here".