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I needed to go—needed to get the fuck out of here before things really went to shit.
So I got in my car and left.
I met Zane and Kye at Buster’s after all. They were busy with the free weights as I blew through the place, heading straight for Bryson, the owner.
“Wilder, didn’t expect to see you here tonight. The guys said—”
“I need to get in the ring,” I said.
Pushing my body to its limits in the gym wasn’t going to cut it. I needed more. I needed it to hurt.
“Come on, Nix. Last time I let you go at it, you almost killed my guy.”
“Always did have a flair for the dramatic.” I rolled my eyes. “He was fine.”
“You shattered his jaw.”
“I’d had a bad day.” I’d had a lot of those in junior year. “Guys know what they’re signing up for when they train here.”
Busters wasn’t your average gym. It was hardcore. You only got in Bryson’s ring if you were comfortable sparring without gloves or head gear.
“I don’t know, Nix. I don’t need you scaring off—”
“I’ll spar with him.” Some meathead tipped his head at me. I’d seen him around but didn’t know him to talk to, preferring to keep to myself. Outside of Zane and Kye, I didn’t have many friends, and I liked it that way.
“You’re on,” I said, cutting Bryson out of the conversation. He threw his hands up and grumbled, “Fine. But don’t expect me to peel you off the canvas when Sy beats your ass.”
“This is a bad idea,” Zane called over to me as I started to wrap my knuckles.
I ignored him and pulled off my hoodie and t-shirt. Meathead ran a cool, assessing gaze over me, giving a small unimpressed huff as he climbed up into the ring. Asshole would pay for that. For underestimating me.
Not that I really gave a shit.
“Come on, Nix.” Kye walked over, keeping his expression casual even if his smile was tight. “Coach will be pissed if you show up at practice tomorrow with a broken rib or two.”
“Your confidence in me is astounding.” Sarcasm clung to my voice as I flexed my hands testing the wraps. They felt good, tight, but with enough movement.
Grabbing the ropes, I started hoisting myself up, but Kye stopped me with a hand to my shoulder. “What happened?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know,” I said, shrugging him off, refusing to remember how she’d looked standing there, glaring at me. Spewing those traitorous words at me.
“Don’t do this, man. I’m begging you.”
“I’ve got it, don’t worry.” I hooked the ropes and climbed inside, banging my fists together as I sized up Meathead. He was big. Bigger than most of the guys I fought. But where he was big, I was angrier.
And he was about to feel a whole world of hurt.
“Motherfucker,” I grunted, the air whooshing from my lungs as he landed another hard jab to my stomach.
That was going to hurt tomorrow. But the pain was a good thing. The pain numbed all the other shit.
Doubled over, I tried to catch my breath, inhaling a ragged breath. It burned, my muscles tired and weary. We’d been at it for a while. Dancing around each other, testing each other’s strength and weeding out the weak spots. I’d given Meathead an impressive split lip and he’d returned it with a cut right above my cheek. My eye was already swelling, but I’d ice it later. When this thick-necked asshole ate dust.
“End it, Nix,” one of the guys shouted; a couple of the other guys who had stopped training to watch, cheering along.
“What do you think? Ready to call it a night?” I smirked, baiting Meathead. Adrenaline surged through my bloodstream like a drug, making me feel invincible. Making me feel like a motherfucking god. Nothing could touch me here. Not Joe or Jessa or school or Coach…
Or her.
