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Even far from home and his usual routine, Nikola preferred not to relax and kept up with his workouts. Sure, it was just "keeping in shape"—he wouldn’t die if he skipped a week, especially in this coastal Roman hotel. The sea, the sun, the absence of annoying coworkers, the calls of the seagulls—bliss. It would have been the perfect time to sleep until 1:00 PM, eat delicious food, sunbathe on the warm sand, and drink free cocktails at the night bar, but anxiety would have eaten Nikola alive for doing that. That is precisely why, as soon as the sun rose, Nikola rushed to the beach once again.
First stretching, then a run and a short swim, then back to the main building and from there to the gym. The plan was reliable and precise. Most importantly, it fit perfectly into someone else's schedule. Nikola rounded the palm trees, took a shortcut across the lawn while looking around stealthily so none of the hotel gardeners were nearby, and jumped down from the stone staircase. The pavilion near the beach was already open. Yoga classes and all that kind of stuff were held here; Nikola didn't really pay attention to the details. The main thing was that there were mats, resistance bands, foam rollers, and open entry. He made it just in time. Settling on one of the mats deep inside the pavilion, Tsolov fixed his gaze on the man in the red T-shirt with a folder in his hands who had just appeared at the entrance.
"Well, there are always spots available as usual; I worry for nothing every time," the man said cheerfully, then turned around and shouted, "How much longer do I have to wait for you, you slowpokes? Quick, get to stretching."
The morning yoga group squeezed slightly to the side, letting five young athletes in matching red T-shirts into the pavilion. Nikola demonstratively avoided looking in their direction, pretending to be deeply absorbed in picking pieces off his stretching mat. But he could never hold out for long, and his eyes flicked upward.
"...Yeah, right, keep talking," sarcastically drawled one of the two girls in the group. Slightly out of breath from running to the pavilion, she was tying her hair into a ponytail on the go. "Fish that big don't swim in here, and if they do, they're quickly caught for the hotel guests' dinner."
"I swear! I can swear on whatever you want!" replied the youngest-looking guy, almost tripping over a step.
Nikola exhaled sharply and focused back on his exercises, only occasionally casting side glances at the athletes. All five were ridiculously different—in height, skin color, and personality. Tsolov even assumed they were all from completely different corners of the planet. They represented some company associated with Ferrari that Nikola didn't quite understand, as they wore the corresponding uniform. Why athletes linked with Ferrari were learning rowing in a coastal hotel near Rome was something he didn't fully comprehend. Everyone dispersed into corners and settled on their mats as the yoga group continued their session, allowing Nikola to return to his favorite activity.
"Rafa, what is that?" laughed one of the athletes, falling onto his side on the mat from laughing.
"I'm doing it fine, look at yourself," the mentioned guy countered without malice, even with a light chuckle, maintaining his balance in a slightly crooked attempt to stretch his legs.
At the very beginning of this absurd story—a week and a half ago, to be exact—Nikola had fought it a little bit. On the contrary, he had avoided this red-clad crowd and intentionally tried to think about other things. But then he gave up and accepted his sudden obsessive nature. Now, every morning, his gaze traced the figure of the athlete in red. He was the shortest among them; even both girls were slightly taller than him. He was also the calmest, most composed, and most handsome. Nikola hid his blushing cheeks in the mat while stretching his lower back, but his eyes kept returning to their rightful place—on Raphael's face. He had a sweet smile, especially when he laughed genuinely and showed his teeth, which happened rarely. Perhaps due to some insecurities—after reaching this conclusion, Nikola had slept poorly at night, imagining himself punching anyone who dared open their mouth about any feature of this guy's face. There were, of course, other reasons why Nikola slept poorly, but those were better left unmentioned in public to avoid embarrassing situations. More than his smile, Nikola loved Raphael's eyes. They were large and incredibly dark, hidden behind horn-rimmed glasses. Nikola couldn't get enough, constantly imagining taking those glasses off the guy's face to kiss every inch of it, leaving not a single spot untouched.
Preoccupied with these warm, hazy thoughts, Tsolov almost missed his scheduled timing. He always left the pavilion early to get ready for his run. From the coastal parapet curving around the bay, the rowing lessons were clearly visible. Nikola had to restrain himself and keep redirecting his focus back to running, because watching Raphael made his heart beat faster and his legs move more sharply. Though he seemed a bit awkward at first glance, the very first drills showed there was no doubt about his athletic condition. Raphael was resilient yet supple, like a young tree. He executed every exercise precisely without forgetting to banter playfully with his teammates. Nikola got distracted looking at that face again, framed by wet, light curls, and at the wetsuit clinging to his body. Only after tripping over an uneven paving stone on the path did Nikola finally avert his eyes and look around nervously, just in case anyone saw him embarrassingly drooling over someone else's body. At the beginning of his vacation, after his run, he would have gone straight to his room for a shower like a normal person. But from then on, he was no longer a normal person, so he went straight into the salty sea to wash off his sweat, maintaining a detached face as if the proximity of the red-clad athletes didn't thrill him at all. Wiping the salt from his eyes, Nikola cast glances at the chest rising and falling from quickened breathing. Raphael leaned back slightly in his canoe, pushing wet strands off his forehead and licking salty water from his lips. Nikola felt suddenly faint and hurried onto the shore.
But the day didn't end there. Nikola cleaned himself up and hurried to a remote building on the hotel grounds. That was where the gym was—for those who were completely crazy, probably, because who goes to the gym on vacation? Raphael did. And Nikola, as it turned out, did too. In the first few days, Raphael's friends joined him, but they quickly found activities more interesting than lat pulldowns. Nikola was even somewhat grateful to them for that. Alone, Raphael became very quiet. Calm and composed, he always spoke to everyone in the gym super politely, never forgot to put away his equipment, and placed towels under himself so as not to get the seats sweaty. Though Nikola was slightly annoyed with him for that last part—Tsolov's urge to interact with Raphael as much as possible flared up intensely whenever he was in the gym.
Nikola sat down at the seated cable row machine, which had the strategically best location—from there, you could see the gym entrance and even catch a glimpse of the locker rooms if someone forgot to close the door. Nikola's stomach churned when he spotted a red T-shirt. But his fingernails dug into the seat's leather—there were several red T-shirts. Nikola groaned inwardly, watching both remaining guys from their group hovering around Raphael. Suddenly, one of the best parts of his day turned into a catastrophe. Stretching and rowing practice hadn't hit Nikola this hard—there had been girls there, as well as their coach. But here it was just guys, helping Raphael adjust the equipment, bringing him fresh towels, and feeling his muscles while he did his sets. Nikola was consumed by wild jealousy. These guys could touch Raphael's back, and it was taken for granted. They could call him Rafa, while Nikola didn't even dare do so in his thoughts until he was personally allowed to. It was an awful feeling—a workout thrown straight into the trash... Nikola didn't even feel like doing cardio anymore. He decided to leave half an hour earlier than usual so as not to ruin his mood completely. Gathering his things from the bench by the wall, he was about to head toward the locker rooms when his eyes landed on a painfully familiar pair of sneakers right next to his feet.
"Nikola," a voice sounded nearby, and Tsolov seemed to forget how to breathe.
He stared wide-eyed at Raphael standing next to him. Raphael was looking off to the side, wiping his neck with a towel. His chest was still heaving heavily from exertion, and his legs under his shorts were trembling slightly from the strain after squats. Nikola lost his words completely when Raphael turned his gaze toward him, dark eyes flashing behind the lenses of his neat glasses. Raphael frowned slightly and tilted his head.
"Did you want something?" he suddenly asked Nikola.
Tsolov froze even further.
"I..." Nikola finally gathered his strength, flattening his voice into indifference, but he was cut off.
"Niccolò, what's taking you so long?" Raphael was looking off to the side again, toward where the youngest of the guys in red was sorting through jump ropes.
"Just a second, I have to pick the right size. You could come help me instead!"
Raphael cast one last quick glance at Tsolov and moved toward his friend. Inside Nikola, something had died twice today. He didn't say a word, afraid that only Bulgarian curses would fly out of his mouth, and hastily headed for the locker room.
That night, Nikola slept even worse than before. He dreamt of hopelessness. He reached for a bright butterfly fluttering right in front of his face, but couldn't reach it. No matter how hard he tried, the butterfly remained out of reach. In the morning, despite the complete mess he felt inside, Nikola stubbornly made his way to the beach pavilion. Only to experience even deeper disappointment, as no one from the red T-shirt group showed up. Neither the guys, nor the girls, nor the coach. Fear crept into Nikola's soul. The butterfly was flying further away; Nikola was ready to accept the painful thought that he would never reach it. But if the butterfly disappeared forever...
Everything got worse during his run, as the pier where the athletes usually set up with their boats and oars was empty. And Nikola was empty too—instead of a heart, there was something hollow and broken inside. Unspoken words and missed opportunities. He quit his run halfway through as well. He didn't want anything; he needed a distraction, but usually he distracted himself with sports, and now thoughts of sports only caused pain.
"Did they really leave..." Nikola trudged along the shoreline toward the hotel's crowded beach. "Why didn't I approach him sooner?! Why did I run out of the gym yesterday? What an idiot..."
Nikola was about to turn toward his residential building when he suddenly heard approaching footsteps.
"Hey!"
There was no one else around, so this time they were clearly calling out to him. Nikola looked back. Standing before him was one of the girls from that group. Tsolov felt a new spark of life ignite inside him. The girl noticed his suddenly dazed, happy expression and raised an eyebrow, but cautiously continued speaking anyway:
"We've seen you around here a lot. Rafa said you usually don't go to the gym until two o'clock. Want to join us for volleyball? It'll make it three-on-three, since our coach bailed on us..."
Nikola had never played volleyball properly in his life, but right now that didn't matter at all. The girl looked more closely at his radiant face, sighed, and waved her hand toward the beach.
"I take it you're in. Come on, or they'll pass out waiting over there."
On the beach volleyball court, the other four Ferrari athletes were waiting. The second girl was sitting on the sand with her face turned toward the sun while the guys were discussing something.
"Alright, let's gather up and split teams," the girl leading Nikola began promptly. "Oh, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Maya, and this is Alba."
Nikola nodded to Maya and offered his hand to Alba, who used it to pull herself up from the sand.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Nikola..."
"Wait, really?!"
The oldest of the guys appeared beside them, instantly tossing an arm over Nikola's shoulder.
"No way! And him over there," he pointed at the younger guy, "is named Niccolò! What a coincidence! By the way, I'm Dino, nice to meet you too."
Energetic Dino turned out to be surprisingly pleasant, and there was no longer any reason to harbor ill feelings toward Niccolò anyway—it wasn't his fault Tsolov had embarrassingly confused their names in the gym.
"And over there is Rafa!"
Nikola couldn't hold back a sharp intake of breath as Raphael walked over. He was in volleyball gear—shortish shorts revealing legs untouched by tan, a light fabric T-shirt, and hands and face smudged with sand.
"Raphael, but like Dino said, you can call me Rafa," the guy smiled, extending his palm. Nikola grabbed it as if it were the most precious treasure in his life and shook it with a trembling motion. Rafa—now Nikola could calmly call him that in his head—smiled almost entirely with his eyes, as if looking right through Nikola and all his anxieties.
"Since Nikola here is so big," Maya continued, "he'll be on a team with me and Rafa. Dino, Niccolò, and Alba, head over to that side. Let's start—our court reservation ends in an hour."
Nikola felt somewhat uncomfortable having little experience or skill in the game. But he more than compensated with his height—the opposing team simply couldn't get past his defense if he managed to set a block in time. More importantly, Nikola now had full permission to observe Rafa up close. Raphael demonstrated once again how dangerous it was to underestimate his seemingly slender frame. He jumped impressively high and chased after the ball no worse than a real libero. His serves turned out to be powerful too, even if the main explosive power came from Nikola and Maya. For probably the first time that week, Tsolov felt true happiness—not just interest fueled by brief glimpses, but an actual close connection with the object of his affection. Raphael made a slightly clumsy dive for the ball, managed to bump it back, but almost fell onto Nikola. Tsolov felt shivers down his spine as he helped Rafa regain his balance.
"Oh, sorry, I should have let you take that ball," Rafa said, adjusting his glasses while leaning on Nikola's offered hand and brushing off his shorts.
Nikola reflexively moved to help brush off the sand, but caught himself in time and pulled his hand away from Rafa's shorts.
"No, I actually wouldn't have saved it. You saw how bad I am at this," Nikola managed to say, hoping his face wasn't completely red right now.
They played for a full hour without resting. After finally handing the court over to the next group, they collapsed in a pile near the sound of the crashing sea waves. Nikola casually lay down in a way that left space for one more person next to him, not expecting much luck, but he kept getting ridiculously fortunate—Rafa lay right next to him, sprawling his arms and legs out.
"Phew," the guy managed to get out, "I've played enough to last me a month."
"Football tomorrow then," Alba called out from the other end of their group.
"What do you mean, football... I don't know how to play."
"Rafa, how many times do we have to go over this? You're Brazilian. You can play football," Dino said in a high-pitched Eric Cartman voice, making everyone laugh.
"I'm sick of your stereotypes!" Rafa joined in the joke through his laughter.
Nikola chuckled along with everyone, but at the same time didn't take his eyes off Raphael's face. With a wide smile, it was even more beautiful than when he was calm. Rafa glanced at Nikola, and Tsolov instantly turned away, pretending nothing had happened.
"Well," Raphael suddenly spoke up again, pushing himself up from the sand, "time for us to go."
"Where are we going?" Niccolò stretched lazily, preparing to get up too.
"You guys—no idea. Nikola and I are going to the gym," Raphael explained casually, looking down at Nikola, who was still lying on the sand. "Well, unless he plans on lounging here for the rest of the day."
Nikola bloomed like a spring flower because Rafa had personally invited him along, remembering that he went to the gym at this time too. They took a quick dip in the sea, rinsed off with fresh water at the public shower, changed into dry clothes, and headed toward the far building while the rest of the Ferrari athletes continued lounging in the sun. On the way, he and Rafa walked in silence. Nikola felt relaxed after the game and suddenly remembered his questions about their group.
"So how are you guys... connected to Ferrari? Rowing and cars just don't add up in my head," Nikola broke the silence.
"Oh," Raphael smiled with a light chuckle, "they're really not connected at all. Management just decided that our additional summer sport this year would be rowing and sent us here to complete the course. But normally, we're racing drivers in different motorsport series. Juniors, mostly."
Nikola's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.
"Drivers... like race cars? Like Formula 1?"
"Why 'like'? Literally," Rafa lowered his gaze slightly, looking a bit bashful. "Dino is the most experienced among us; he's in Formula 2. I'm one step below for now, Alba and Niccolò too, and Maya is in an all-female series. I hope to move up to Formula 2 with Dino next year, but I need to work hard now and prove I deserve it."
Discussing motorsport, they quickly reached the gym. Nikola felt much less stiff once he started talking to Rafa, and Rafa himself was opening up more, sharing stories from his life. In the locker room, Nikola firmly resolved to be a sensible person, turning away to change silently without casting side glances. Just as he was about to head toward his usual machines, Rafa caught him by the elbow.
"Can you help me?" Raphael asked, blinking his large, innocent eyes. "I want to do an arm workout, and I'd appreciate it if you could spot me with weights, carry plates, and all that."
Nikola considered this nothing short of a gift from fate. What else could have allowed him to touch Raphael so easily? He spotted the barbell on the bench press, involuntarily tracing the curves of Rafa's back and his focused expression with his eyes. Raphael breathed rhythmically as required by the exercise, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple, his dry lips trembling slightly as he pondered aloud whether to increase the weight or keep it the same to work on technique. Nikola felt everything tighten inside at this desired sight. Sometimes, without thinking ahead, he even reached out to adjust Raphael's glasses. Rafa would breathe out a soft thank-you, closing his eyes from the exertion, and Nikola would close his too as wild thoughts crept into his head. Over the next two hours, if Nikola dedicated any time to his own workout, it was only the workout of devouring Rafa with his eyes. Nikola didn't mind that at all. And Raphael allowed it—he didn't send him away to do his own thing or tell him off; he merely looked back as if evaluating the effort. And those efforts were finally rewarded.
"Need to shower before the crowd heads into the locker room too," Rafa said, getting up from the bench and pulling off his sweat-soaked T-shirt. Nikola gave up on trying not to stare—Rafa had clearly caught on to his interest anyway. Why else would he so casually flex his muscles, roll the strong neck of a race car driver, and look back through his glasses? "Are you coming?"
"Yeah..."
Nikola was seated on a bench against the wall in the locker room. Rafa placed his knees on the same bench on either side of Nikola's hips, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Tsolov froze, looking up at Rafa's face framed by the overhead lights like an angel's halo. Nikola's hands didn't know where to settle, nervously stroking the guy's back, then his shoulders, then his thighs. Rafa twitched occasionally in surprise, hiding a silly smile.
"I've never been in a position like this before," confessed Raphael, closing his eyes in pleasure. "Am I rushing things?"
"Not at all," Nikola responded instantly, running a finger along Rafa's spine, making him gasp and arch his back. "And... I've never been in a position like this either. You have no idea how happy I am to be here. I've wanted this for so long..."
"I know," Rafa laughed. He leaned closer, kissing Nikola's nose and cheekbones, giggling when his stubble scratched Nikola's lips. "You hid it horribly, to be honest. Niccolò and Alba didn’t really pay attention to that stuff at first, but Maya and Dino have been giving me mocking looks since day one, like, 'When are you going to free that poor guy from the agony of waiting?'"
"How terrible," Nikola whispered, finally capturing Rafa's lips with his own. They didn't rush. They kissed softly, occasionally pulling at each other's upper or lower lip, lingering at the corners of their mouths and licking dry cracks. Nikola melted from the gentle sweetness, slipping his fingertips under the waistband of Rafa's shorts.
"I should probably apologize for that," Raphael continued, his hips twitching at Nikola's touch as he pressed closer. "I should have talked to you sooner. But... I liked your attention so much."
Nikola bit Rafa's lip gently, pulling on it. Rafa exhaled sharply, digging his fingers deeper into Nikola's shoulders.
"So the whole time, you saw me drooling over you?" Nikola wasn't angry at the revelation. On the contrary, he felt a pleasant flutter at the thought that Rafa had felt that adoring gaze on him all week and hadn't stopped it. "Tell me, how did that feel?"
"You drooling over me?" another chuckle escaped Rafa's lips. Raphael was surprisingly quiet. Whether he was afraid of getting caught or just naturally soft-spoken, Nikola only heard heavy breathing, ragged gasps, and whispered whimpers, and he loved it beyond words. "At first, it felt a little creepy. But you didn't do anything inappropriate. You just watched. Involuntarily, I started showing off for you. I was practically purring during stretches on purpose, posing in the water during rowing practice. And working out in the gym felt easier knowing you were watching without looking away. Attention like that is flattering, to be honest. I felt like a star."
"I'm afraid you are a star," Nikola looked up at Rafa's face again. It was flushed, his temples slick with sweat, his lips swollen and bitten. His glasses kept slipping crookedly, and Rafa tried to push them up, but every time he did, Nikola would pull a move that forced Raphael to bring his hands back to his shoulders, leaving the glasses sitting adorably lopsided. A total sweetheart. A sweet charm Nikola wanted to devour.
"You flatter me."
"Just building up my value ahead of the competition. You clearly have fans, so I need to be the most persistent and noticeable one among them. Do I have a head start?"
"Mmm-hmm..."
It was getting hard for Rafa to talk. His breathing had completely lost its rhythm. He shifted his weak palms over Nikola's back while Tsolov's firm, curious fingers explored the other guy's body much more eagerly.
"I suspect I do have a head start," Nikola smiled contentedly right into another kiss.
It was hard for his brain to process the situation. Just this morning, he had been dramatically mourning his sudden obsession, and now he was stroking those lean arms, sliding down to his back and surprisingly firm waist, admiring this adorable beauty from five centimeters away. Finally, Nikola decided to deepen the kiss. He wrapped an arm around Rafa's neck, running fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, deepening the contact. Even then, Rafa made no loud noises, and that turned Nikola on more than anything. Nikola explored his mouth with his tongue, relishing the intimacy and the faint sting on his back where Raphael was digging his nails in. He didn't groan, only breathed unevenly, occasionally indulging in a barely audible murmur. To Nikola, it sounded like total victory. Pulling away briefly, he took off Rafa's glasses and set them aside.
"God, you're so handsome..." was all Nikola could say. Rafa licked his swollen lips, squinting his incredible eyes blindly. A soft flush covered his cheekbones, and his hair was even messier from Nikola's hands. "I can't believe you're real."
Raphael chuckled bashfully, tilting his head with a smile. They kissed slowly, taking their time. Their lips ached softly from the tension, but Nikola couldn't get enough. He stroked Rafa's lower back, sliding lower, but received warning scratches on his shoulders and a whisper in return:
"We're in a public place, Niko. Be patient."
"Be patient" echoed in Nikola's mind—Raphael wasn't saying no; he was offering a better time and place. Butterflies had been fluttering in Tsolov's stomach for a long time, but at that moment, they went into full frenzy with anticipation.
"I need your phone number," Nikola said seriously.
"Mmm," Rafa hummed in cozy agreement, burying his nose into Nikola's cheekbone. "Later. Don't get distracted."
However, they couldn't stay there long; other gym users were bound to show up soon. Walking back toward the residential buildings, Nikola felt surprisingly refreshed and rested. Not just because he had taken a warm shower after a great active day, but because Rafa was walking right beside him. Halfway there, Nikola gathered the courage to take his hand, and Raphael immediately intertwined their fingers. His lips burned with memories, and WhatsApp already contained the start of a chat with his new acquaintance.
Watching the two guys walk away from around the corner was a group of two guys and two girls.
"Phew, thank goodness," Maya finally exhaled, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"I'm so happy for him, seriously!" Alba clapped her hands, bumping fists with Niccolò.
"And I'm actually a bit sad," Dino sighed dramatically, snapping a picture of the guys' backs with his tongue sticking out from effort. "Now nobody is going to spend all day driving us crazy sighing over a handsome, sexy, tall, charming..."
"Dino, please, I don't want to hear another word about that guy for the next few months!"
"You won't have to, but what about me? Rafa is definitely going to invite him to a Grand Prix, I'm sure of it."
"You'll film a video report for us!"
"Niccolò, do you want home video of Rafa?..."
"That's not what I meant!!!"