In fact, Oscar doesn't realise how stupidly close their flats are to each other until he's catching his breath after a set on the bench he dragged outside, on the balcony, and hears a wolf whistle coming from somewhere behind him.
"Osc! I didn't know you were an exhibitionist," Lando says with a teasing grin as Oscar turns around. He's leaning against the railing of his own balcony—approximately a floor above Oscar's—arms lazily crossed over the metal and curls gently swaying with the breeze.
Oscar looks down at his own bare chest, rising and falling in rapid succession, and feels his face warming up.
"I'm not, it just was too hot inside," he mutters. "Haven't gotten around to getting the air-con installed yet."
Lando shrugs and rests his head on a palm. "Well, I'm sure Mrs. Beaumont will appreciate the show anyway."
Oscar blinks a few times, confused. "Who the hell is Mrs. Beaumont?"
"The old widow living in the flat below mine," Lando says, pointing a finger downwards. Then, he leans forward, cups a hand over his mouth. "She likes them younger," he adds in a whisper, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
That punches a laugh out of Oscar. It's not that funny, Oscar knows, but he still finds himself folding in half at Lando's words.
When he looks back up, there's a smile on his teammate's lips, but his eyes have drifted somewhere below Oscar's face, seemingly dragging over the curve of his chest, the dip of his waist, pale skin glistening with sweat under the Mediterranean sun.
Oscar's mouth goes dry. He picks his water bottle from the floor and drinks in heavy gulps, stopping himself from blurting out something insane like what, you like them younger too? Because of course that's not what's happening. Lando was just checking the competition out, or whatever. Maybe he wasn't even looking at Oscar at all. It's hard to tell from this perspective.
The action seems to snap Lando out of it anyway, so Oscar clears his throat and awkwardly nods to the weights abandoned at his feet. "Um, I have to…"
"Oh," Lando says, straightening his back. "Of course, have a good one," he says, but doesn't move.
Oscar turns around, gets back to his workout and pointedly ignores the fact he doesn't hear the sound of Lando's balcony doors closing until well after he's done with another set.