#jockproblems

The sun was hitting my face with an aggressive, gold-tinted brightness that didn't match the rhythm of my internal clock. I blinked, my head feeling heavy and blissfully empty, the remnants of the "Sleep. Grow. Obey." overnight track still fading in my ears.

I reached for my phone, expecting it to be 6:00 AM, my prime time for the morning run through the Golden City.

7:14 AM.

"No way," I rasped, my voice thick with sleep. I stared at the screen. Then it hit me. Daylight Savings. The world had "sprung forward," and apparently, I’d stayed behind.

I scrambled out of bed, my muscles feeling massive and slightly uncoordinated. I was already fourteen minutes late for my session with Coach. In the Golden Army, "late" isn't just a mistake—it’s an invitation for a "re-calibration" session.

I shoved myself into my metallic gold compression kit, the shiny fabric snapping against my skin. I didn't even have time to fix my hair; I just grabbed my gold-and-black trainers and my phone.

I was halfway through the park, my trainers pounding the marble path at a pace that would have made a sprinter sweat, when my phone buzzed in my arm strap. A FaceTime request.

COACH.

I skidded to a halt near the koi pond, chest heaving, and hit accept. Coach’s face filled the screen. He was already at the gym, looking perfectly composed in a fresh metallic DADDY shirt, a silver whistle hanging around his neck.

"Wells," he said, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "The sun has been up for an hour. My favorite drill, however, is nowhere to be found. Care to explain the lag in your programming?"

I leaned forward, hands on my knees, catching my breath while trying to look as "alpha" as possible while being caught in a gold-plated lie. "Daylight savings, Coach. The clock jumped. I… I guess the track kept me under a little too deep."

Coach leaned back, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face. He didn't look angry; he looked like he’d just found a reason to extend the afternoon "stamina" drills.

"The missing hour, huh?" Coach mused, his thumb grazing his jaw. "Don't worry, 58. I’ll make sure you pay it back. I expect you at the facility in five minutes. And since you love sleeping in so much, we’re going to work until the sun goes down again. I want to see exactly how much 'power' you stored up during that extra hour of shut-eye."

I stood up straight, the gold of my kit shimmering in the morning light. My head was empty, but my heart was racing. "I’m on my way, Coach. Consider the debt acknowledged."

"Good boy," he whispered before the screen went black.

I didn't need the Air Pods for the rest of the run. The thought of that "payback" session was all the motivation I needed.