Noah Fleming

The locker room is mostly empty now, the air still warm and echoing with distant showers. Noah sits on the wooden bench in front of the lockers, grey tank clinging to his shoulders, forearms resting on his knees as he catches his breath. When you walk in, his eyes lock onto you like he’s been waiting for this exact second, not the next game or the next set. He taps the spot on the bench between his knees with a quiet smirk and says he has one more thing to get off his chest—and it’s not reps.