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The door to the gym is locked, which I expected. It’s 7:45 in the morning, and I’m not meeting Luca here until 8:00. And obviously he wouldn’t be here early. As I take my key out and let myself into the gym, an uncomfortable feeling takes root as a thought takes over. What if he doesn’t even show? What if this is some kind of a game to mess with me, and I fell for it?
As I enter the gym, I glance at the large clock on the wall, even though literally one minute has passed. I blow out a breath and make my way into the locker room, pushing those thoughts aside. I would be here anyway, so it doesn’t even matter. It’s not like I’m going out of my way for him.
But even as I change and turn the lights on, the dread in the pit of my stomach remains. I tried my hardest to ignore Luca last night as I was working the bags, but he has this annoying as fuck ability to completely take over every room he’s in, no matter how big it is. So I had the pleasure of hearing all about his plans last night. And since I know he went out with a new friend from work, I’m again questioning if he’s even going to show up this morning. My eyes reluctantly find their way to the clock again. 8:01 am.
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” I mutter to myself. He is the one who wanted to roll today. Which means he wants to work on something that he needs me for. So, fuck him and whatever he ends up doing with his day.
I start jogging the track around the perimeter of the gym to warmup, thinking I’ll probably spend time on the bags again this morning. Last night I focused on punch combos with the heavy bag, but today I want to work on some low kicks with the MMA bag.
Just as I finish running through the plan for my workout in my head, and my tenth lap around the track, I hear the gym door open.
Luca strolls in wearing sunglasses, a pink hoodie, and gray sweatpants, with a coffee in hand.
I stop running and look at the clock. 8:22.
“You’re late,” I say as he walks towards me.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, checking the time. “Ah, yeah. But looks like you got a good warmup in.” He lets out a light laugh. “And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have been here doing exactly this anyway.” He takes a sip of his coffee with a smirk.
“You’re the one that said 8:00.” I take a deep breath, trying so fucking hard not to smack that coffee out of his hand. If he didn’t stop for a fucking coffee, he could have been here on time.
He chuckles and walks towards the bench behind me. “Fuck, you’re wound tight.”
I press my lips together and tighten my hands in fists at my sides, doing everything I can to contain my anger.
“See?” Luca drops his bag on the bench and gestures to my hands. “You need to learn to let go a bit, Ty. I think you’d like it.”
“Fuck off,” I grit out, turning around to continue running the track. Fuck him, he can train on his own.
“I like your last offer better.”
I turn to face him again. “What?”
He laughs and subtly shakes his head.
That’s it.
“What’s your fucking problem, Mitchell? Why is this so hilarious and just one big fucking joke to you?” I step closer to him, and he furrows his brow. “This isn’t some free ride you can fuck around with.”
Luca’s eyes flick between mine and he tenses. “Obviously it’s not,” he says, his voice low and dark. “I’m not joking with any of this. But you know what I am doing, Ty?” He steps closer, bringing himself less than an arm’s length away from me. He looks down my body, then back up to my eyes. “Enjoying myself. You can do both, you know.”
A restless energy builds within me under his intense gaze, as his hazel eyes continue to stare into mine. I break our eye contact, shaking my head. “Whatever. If you want to actually roll, get ready.”
“Oh,” he smiles, immediately shifting from dark and intense to light and unbothered, “no need. I came prepared. Since I was so late.” He pulls off his hoodie and sweatpants so he’s in just his fight shorts. Which are also pink.
He gives me a smug, satisfied look, and I roll my eyes. As he turns to place his clothes on the bench, my eyes roam over the random assortment of tattoos all over his body. He has one leg that’s almost covered, as well as entire torso and arms. Every time I fought him, I swore he showed up with more. And now that I’m actually seeing them, I’m surprised by how many he has.
And they seem just as random as he is.
They’re a mix of color and black and white, with no real theme to any of it. It’s like he covered his eyes and pointed to a picture when picking each one out. On his back are some flowers, a fucking unicorn, a tree, some kind of Celtic design… none of it makes any fucking sense. And I guess that suits him.
“Like what you see?”
I raise my eyes to meet his as he looks over his shoulder with a smirk.
I shake my head. “Your tattoos are ridiculous. They make no fucking sense.”
He bites his lip and looks down at his chest as he turns to face me. He almost seems to get lost to his thoughts as he simply stands there for a moment, chewing his lip. Then he shrugs. “Why does it have to make sense?”
