Have you ever watched something happen so silently that your brain filled in the void with its own sounds?

Imagine seeing a pin drop across a busy room and feeling the tiniest ding! in your mind — one that you couldn’t possibly have actually heard.

Well, Michael unfurling his towel and handing it off sang like a choir of angels in my mind.

It was as if the lights on stage brightened, my eyes focused in like a hawk’s, and tiny cherubs began a heavenly harmony as his towel unwrapped in slow motion.

A sliver of pale pink flesh slowly widened until the full view of his impossibly smooth, marble-like skin appeared, shaped in the roundest of orbs.

Staring at his plump, naked cheeks — I couldn’t help but think about the sweetness and softness of butter.

I don’t think that mental image of Michael standing on the scale in all his glory will ever leave my mind… which could make wrestling with him a bit challenging.

Don’t worry, we’ll get you there.

That was what Michael had said. I hoped, and feared, that he’d keep that promise. There’s nothing I’d like more than to get on the mat with him — but I worry about what would happen with his body wrapped so tightly around mine.

His weight is announced. It’s a few classes above mine. I realize — with a sigh of relief and disappointment — that it wouldn’t make much sense for him to wrestle me himself as training. No, he and the coach will probably pit me against someone closer to my weight.

I can only hope they look nothing like Michael.

The bearers hand him back his towel and he wraps it around his waist as he turns to head towards the back room.

I’m sad to see the moment come to an end, but I have to peel my eyes away before can catch me staring. I look at the ground instead, trying to appear as unremarkable as possible as he re-enters the room.

Within a few seconds, my view of the ground is replaced with that of a white towel and two naked legs poking out beneath it.

“Chin up, Gretz!”

I look up, and Michael winks at me. He actually winks.

He holds a hand out and flashes a bright smile.

“There’s no time to train like the present.”

I scrunch my brow in confusion. “Train? Now? The tournament starts in an hour.”

His hand doesn’t waver, nor does his goofy grin.

“Well, that’s an hour to prep you for a whole new, unexpected weight class,” he points a thumb back at the stage, “or an hour of staring at the ground to avoid the butt parade out there.”

By the way his eyes glint, and the corner of his mouth moves just slightly into a smirk, I think he might be teasing me. He probably did catch me staring. And yet, here he is offering me his hand and a one-on-one crash course just before the official bouts begin.

I can’t help but return the smirk. I grab his hand and he pulls me up off of the bench. Releasing me, he turns and heads towards the door that leads to the locker rooms. Without turning around, he waves a hand for me to follow.

“Time to slip into something a little less comfortable!”

A few of the boys in the room chuckle as he exits. I force out a small laugh too as I scramble after him.

There’s no way I’m ready for what’s coming next.