Leo Hooks flexes his tanned, muscular arms in the orange tank top, the sunlight cutting through the wooden slats behind him as he bends each joint with controlled precision. His dark hair stays in place despite the movement, the definition of his chest and shoulders sharp enough to trace with a finger. Every pose is a study in strength, the way his biceps swell when he clenches his fists or the way his back arches when he stretches his spine. The slats frame him like a shadowed grid, making his skin glow against the grain.
