Unleashed (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (37 page)

The gym is absolutely packed, and mostly by guys.

I see Chance’s coach walking around the cage, inspecting the metal chain-link fencing. The cage is set in the center of this large floor space that reminds me, for some reason, of a place where they might store mannequins.

Lining the room are weight machines, free weights, treadmills, stationary bikes, punching bags, and various other fitness related things.

It’s a pretty big gym made to seem tiny by the sheer amount of people currently standing in it.

There’s no seating, and all the guys mill about, excitedly chattering over the series of fights they’re going to see.

I walk to a scoreboard, and see the fight lineup. Chance fights in the first round, has a bye in the second, and then fights in the final round.

I thread my way through the people, and that’s when I see a group of girls from our school, all the popular ones. They’re dressed-up as if they’re going out, miniskirts and heels and make up and the like. It’s Alice Ortiz, Nicole Stansfeld, and all their cronies.

Yuck. I avoid them.

I see in front of me a guy with a pony tail taking down notes on a pad. He’s going around taking money from various people.

But at that moment Chance’s coach comes storming out of the cage, and hauls pony tail out, barking at him, “No betting in my gym!”

Damn, I think to myself. These fights definitely attract a certain type.

That’s when I spot Chance on a bike at the back of the gym, pedaling. I walk to him, but he’s got his back to me so he doesn’t see me.

“Hey,” I say, feeling a little nervous, a little unsure of what I’m even doing here, of what to say to him.

He looks at me over his shoulder, smirks. “So you did get that address from Coach.”

“I was curious,” I say in as nonchalant way as possible. “I’ve never seen a real fight.”

A bell dings, and I swivel around to see Coach Daniels standing in the cage. Chance gets up off the bike, guides me to walk with him, a hand at the small of my back.

“You like the idea of fighting?”

“Not really,” I tell him. “But I don’t dislike it.”

Chance threads our way through the crowd. People offer him encouragement and compliments. He’s basically a rockstar in here.

He walks me closer toward the group of girls from school, but I don’t really want to go near them.

That’s when he seems to sense my discomfort, and so he grips my hand, pulls me into him, and kisses me hard in plain view of them.

My whole body goes limp in his arms, and he holds me tight against him, and eventually our kiss fades to a break, and he grins at me.

Then he leaves me, walks into the cage.

The girls are all staring at me in disbelief.

I can’t help but smile.

Chance’s opponent enters the cage, and Coach starts the fight. It’s lightning fast, I don’t even really parse what I see, but all I know is Chance goes left first, then right. He fakes a kick, his opponent bites, and then Chance kicks out his leg, sends him crashing to the mat.

Chance locks him up, and his opponent taps out.

Boom. Fight over in under twenty seconds.

“What the hell?” I whisper, my voice adding to the rising murmuring.
That’s
what fights are like? That quick?

Chance steps out of the cage, takes my hand, and then leads me right back to the bikes at the back of the gym. He hops on one, starts pedaling.

“Won’t that tire you out?”

“Tire me?” he balks. “No, I’ve got too much energy. I need to burn some off. It also keeps me warm.”

“That was kind of a quick fight.”

“Chang’s a good fighter,” he says. “He’s fast, so you got to go hard and early or he’ll tire you out, dance around you for days. I gave him a left-right stutter, kicked his leg, locked him up.”

“It’s that mechanical, huh? Just a sequence of events?”

“Everything is a sequence of events,” Chance says to me.

“You know what I mean.”

“We practice these techniques for a reason. They work.”

“Why’d you ask me to come down here, anyway?”

“Because I like you, and you don’t have anything better to do.”

“Uh,” I sound, making a face. “Yeah, I do.”

“Like what?”

“Like none of your business.”

“Plus you also get to see me topless again.”

“I’d need more than
that
just to come all the way down here,” I tell him.

“Well,” he says, adjusting the difficulty on the bike. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Another bell dings, and Chance and I turn to watch the second round of the small tournament being held tonight.

“Do you get paid for this?”

“No,” he says, eyes on the cage. “We set this up for Coach to help him raise some money and attract new students. Get the word out about MMA fight training, and physical training in general.”

“You mean all of you?”

“Yeah. The guy who’s fighting now?” Chance nods his head toward the cage. “The taller one? He came down all the way from Portland to spend a week training with Coach, and to do this fight.”

“That’s Marshall, right?” I ask, remembering the signage.

“Yeah. He’s going to win this round, and then I’m going to face him.”

“He’s much taller than you,” I say, frowning. Chance is a solid six-one or six-two, but this Marshall guy looks like he has a few inches over him.

“He’s got reach, yes. But see his legs? See how long they are?”

Now that he mentions it, I notice it. Chance hops off the bike and stands next to me, panting. I can feel the heat from his body shooting into mine. “His center of gravity is high. That means he has less balance.”

“So you’ll try and take him down?”

“Yes,” he tells me. “I know the way he fights, he likes to get close real fast, and that negates his reach. But with his high center, Judo would be a good way to counter him.”

“Why Judo in particular?”

“It’s a whole fighting art dedicated to getting your opponent on the mat,” he tells me. “Not much striking involved.”

My phone vibrates in my bag, and I pull it out. “Shit, I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Seems my dad wants to do a video chat with me over Skype tonight. He told me to call him as soon as I get this message.”

“Just tell him you’re busy.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It could be important.”

“If it was important, he’d call you.”

“No, I have to go,” I tell him. “He’ll worry about me if I don’t call back.”

“I thought you were pissed off at him for not being here for graduation?”

“I am,” I tell him truthfully. “But he doesn’t know I’m out of the house, and so he’ll worry if I don’t get online.” I shrug, grin. “Fighting’s pretty boring anyway.”

“Stay. Break a rule. Be a little bad.”

I look into Chance’s hazel eyes, feel like he’s testing me. “No,” I tell him. “It’ll just mean more trouble for me later.”

“Fair enough. You take the bus here?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on,” Chance says. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, really, it’s fine, you still got a fight.”

“There’s a twenty minute break before the final round. It’s fine,” he says, shaking his head. “Let me get changed. I’ll meet you back here in a bit.”

To his credit, he really does just drive me home. He doesn’t try to rile me up or get under my skin. I feel comfortable in the car with him.

“Thanks,” I say as he pulls to a stop and I get out.

“When’s your dad getting back?”

“Not for a few days.”

“You here all alone?”

“Well, me and the cat.”

Chance nods slowly. Our eyes meet, and we share a smile. Only, his is infinitely more comfortable than mine.

I eye Chance for a moment. Sweat still drips down his neck. He still hasn’t cooled down.

“You were pretty good, from what I saw tonight,” I tell him.

“I’m good every night.”

I don’t reply to that, instead walk up the driveway and slip inside the front door.

When I open my laptop, I see three blinking notifications, three missed-video-calls from Dad, and sigh.