ball she
was going to next month, so we decided to hit up the prom store
first. As she tried on an insane number of dresses, I voted and
vetoed several, giving her my honest opinion, even when she didn’t
want it.
“I like this one,” she said as she stepped
out in front of the mirror.
“Ew,” I said, making gagging noises. It was
the most god-awful shade of pink. “It looks like a five year old’s
princess party just threw up all over you.”
“I’m so glad I brought you,” she said with a
glare in my direction.
If the dress wasn’t Pepto-Bismal-pink, it
wouldn’t have been so bad, but the color just ruined the whole
thing. We’d been in the shop for two hours and I was sick of doing
girlie things, but I didn’t want to complain.
My phone rang and we both looked at it on the
seat next to mine. “It’s Kingston,” I told her as I spotted his
name on the caller id.
I shook my head and decided to go ahead and
answer it. “Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?” he yelled into my
ear.
I cringed. “I’m out. I thought you didn’t
want me to fight?”
“You and I both know I’m not going to be able
to keep you from fighting, Max,” he started. The way he said my
name caused goose bumps to appear on my arms. “So get your ass to
the gym. Now .” He hung up.
“What the hell?”
“What did he say?” Wynter asked.
I set my phone down. “He told me to get to
the gym.”
“I guess our shopping trip is over,” she
said, sounding defeated.
“Guess so.” I didn’t really want to work out,
but I definitely didn’t want to keep shopping. The gym was a better
option than the dress shop.
Eight
Twelve days passed. Twelve excruciating,
frustrating, and busy days. Aside from working out twice a day,
Kingston had me on a strict diet, plus a running regime. Exhaustion
didn’t even begin to cover the ridiculous fatigue I felt. I wanted
to sleep for days, but every morning, I was up at five to work
out.
I missed food the most. As a fighter, I was
fairly lucky; I managed to get by eating whatever I wanted without
fluctuating my weight too much, but Kingston insisted that I diet
in order to maintain a perfect weight for my weight class. He also
instituted a no alcohol policy. Almost two weeks without a beer or
a glass of wine had me in a permanent bad mood.
What impressed me was his ability to stay
away from me. Sure, we spent almost every waking moment together,
working out, eating, and him mostly telling me what to do, but he
never once made a move, and I was far too tired to even think about
jumping him. He explained that I needed to focus on the fight, not
any kind of romance or sex.
I agreed with him, to a point, but that
didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate his fine form whenever he got too
hot and took his shirt off in the gym. He was gorgeous, every
muscled inch of him. I almost had to wipe drool off my chin on more
than one occasion.
Wynter hated my new schedule, since it meant
I couldn’t do anything social with her. But I kept up with her
raging texts and shared most of them with Kingston, so he knew just
how upset she was over my sudden social withdrawal. His response
was to laugh at her antics. I didn’t blame him; Wynter was overly
dramatic.
It was my last workout before my first fight.
Nervousness settled in my bones as I warmed up. Kingston wasn’t at
the gym yet, but I was usually early, so I wasn’t surprised. Half
an hour later, I was a little concerned. I asked all the guys
around the gym if they’d seen or heard from him, but no one had. I
paced the small area in front of the punching bag, worried that
maybe whoever wanted to hurt me had taken it out on him.
I never should have let him train me.
He stumbled through the door a few minutes
later, wearing a heavy leather jacket. He passed by me and went
straight into the men’s locker room. I didn’t hesitate to follow
him.
“Where have you been?” I asked, more pissed
than worried now that he showed up.
He
was going to next month, so we decided to hit up the prom store
first. As she tried on an insane number of dresses, I voted and
vetoed several, giving her my honest opinion, even when she didn’t
want it.
“I like this one,” she said as she stepped
out in front of the mirror.
“Ew,” I said, making gagging noises. It was
the most god-awful shade of pink. “It looks like a five year old’s
princess party just threw up all over you.”
“I’m so glad I brought you,” she said with a
glare in my direction.
If the dress wasn’t Pepto-Bismal-pink, it
wouldn’t have been so bad, but the color just ruined the whole
thing. We’d been in the shop for two hours and I was sick of doing
girlie things, but I didn’t want to complain.
My phone rang and we both looked at it on the
seat next to mine. “It’s Kingston,” I told her as I spotted his
name on the caller id.
I shook my head and decided to go ahead and
answer it. “Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?” he yelled into my
ear.
I cringed. “I’m out. I thought you didn’t
want me to fight?”
“You and I both know I’m not going to be able
to keep you from fighting, Max,” he started. The way he said my
name caused goose bumps to appear on my arms. “So get your ass to
the gym. Now .” He hung up.
“What the hell?”
“What did he say?” Wynter asked.
I set my phone down. “He told me to get to
the gym.”
“I guess our shopping trip is over,” she
said, sounding defeated.
“Guess so.” I didn’t really want to work out,
but I definitely didn’t want to keep shopping. The gym was a better
option than the dress shop.
Eight
Twelve days passed. Twelve excruciating,
frustrating, and busy days. Aside from working out twice a day,
Kingston had me on a strict diet, plus a running regime. Exhaustion
didn’t even begin to cover the ridiculous fatigue I felt. I wanted
to sleep for days, but every morning, I was up at five to work
out.
I missed food the most. As a fighter, I was
fairly lucky; I managed to get by eating whatever I wanted without
fluctuating my weight too much, but Kingston insisted that I diet
in order to maintain a perfect weight for my weight class. He also
instituted a no alcohol policy. Almost two weeks without a beer or
a glass of wine had me in a permanent bad mood.
What impressed me was his ability to stay
away from me. Sure, we spent almost every waking moment together,
working out, eating, and him mostly telling me what to do, but he
never once made a move, and I was far too tired to even think about
jumping him. He explained that I needed to focus on the fight, not
any kind of romance or sex.
I agreed with him, to a point, but that
didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate his fine form whenever he got too
hot and took his shirt off in the gym. He was gorgeous, every
muscled inch of him. I almost had to wipe drool off my chin on more
than one occasion.
Wynter hated my new schedule, since it meant
I couldn’t do anything social with her. But I kept up with her
raging texts and shared most of them with Kingston, so he knew just
how upset she was over my sudden social withdrawal. His response
was to laugh at her antics. I didn’t blame him; Wynter was overly
dramatic.
It was my last workout before my first fight.
Nervousness settled in my bones as I warmed up. Kingston wasn’t at
the gym yet, but I was usually early, so I wasn’t surprised. Half
an hour later, I was a little concerned. I asked all the guys
around the gym if they’d seen or heard from him, but no one had. I
paced the small area in front of the punching bag, worried that
maybe whoever wanted to hurt me had taken it out on him.
I never should have let him train me.
He stumbled through the door a few minutes
later, wearing a heavy leather jacket. He passed by me and went
straight into the men’s locker room. I didn’t hesitate to follow
him.
“Where have you been?” I asked, more pissed
than worried now that he showed up.
He
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