5 Rounds by Nikki Castle
Remy
The next morning, I wake up to a quiet house. Jax is already gone, and Tristan is probably at the gym. I smile and stretch my arms over my head, happy to have the house to myself for an hour before work. Sitting down with a cup of coffee and a good book is my own form of morning meditation. I glance excitedly at the espresso machine sitting on the kitchen counter.
I swing my feet off the couch—and freeze.
There is whipped cream all over the floor.
There is whipped cream all over the floor.
There is whipped cream all over my feet.
A red haze begins to cloud my vision. I know in an instant that Tristan did this. He actually pranked me.
I grab a pillow and scream into it.
I stand up but fall right back down when I slip on the slick floor. The red haze grows.
I stand again, carefully, and take a few tentative steps toward the kitchen. There's so much whipped cream on my feet that I leave several slippery footprints behind me. I'm seething by the time I reach the paper towels on the counter.
I quickly wipe the whipped cream off my feet. I grab the whole roll of paper towels and set to cleaning up the trail I left, then eventually the origin of the mess. It takes several minutes and several sheets of paper before the evidence of Tristan's prank is gone. I grab the mop to get rid of any remaining residue on the floors.
By the time I'm finished cleaning, I've already planned out Tristan's murder in my head. I grab my phone to compose a text.
Remy: You know, I would've bet money that you'd at least make it to day five. Who knew I'd have to off you the very first day.
My phone lights up with a text reply almost instantly.
Tristan: New rule: no making rules in my house. Because you won't like the ones I come up with.
I furiously type out a response.
Remy: You're an ass. I'm not engaging in a prank war with you just to appease your childish inability to be a decent person. You remember what happened the last time we did this.
Tristan: I still cringe when I see a hair trimmer. But that was a while ago. You wouldn’t win now.
Tristan: But I won’t continue without your retaliation, or at least without any newly declared "rules."
I angrily throw my phone on the couch. Any semblance of a peaceful morning has completely vanished, leaving me irritated and unhappy. I discard my plans of lounging around with a book and instead stomp upstairs to take a shower and get ready for work. Getting a head start on my workday is better than sitting around here and fuming.
It's a shitty start to an increasingly shitty day. It takes me twenty minutes to catch a bus to work, and then when I finally get to the office, I realize there's construction going on in the building right outside my window. The sounds of machinery give me a migraine that only gets worse throughout the day. That coupled with the fact that the company's engineers have apparently taken asshole pills today, and my whole day has become an increasingly frustrating hump day.
My only savior is knowing I'll be able to punch my frustrations out at the gym later. I leave the office late, so I only make it in time for an hour cardio bagwork class, but it's better than nothing.
I leave everything on the mats. I put my anger into every punch, every kick, until I'm drenched in sweat and struggling to catch my breath.
"Damn, girl, who pissed you off?" Aiden grumbles next to me.
I shake my head, too tired to answer. But then I hear Lucy start to laugh. "She's pissed because she's stuck in the same house with Tristan for almost two weeks," she laughs.
The guys around me look startled. "Tristan? Why?" Aiden asks.
I aim a glare at Lucy for finding amusement in my pain, but answer Aiden's question anyway. "I'm in between apartments for a little bit so Jax offered me his room while he's traveling for work. Unfortunately, that also means dealing with Tristan's annoying ass." I pause, then grumble, "He sprayed the floor with whipped cream this morning so I'd step in it when I woke up."
The gym fills with raucous laughter.
"I'm glad you guys find it funny," I snap. "I hate all of you."
"Can we take bets on who's going to make it out alive?" Aiden grins.
I scowl at my so-called teammates and stomp toward the showers.
* * *
It's almost 10:00 when I finally get home. I'm exhausted after my less-than-stellar day, and all I want to do is eat my dinner and go to bed.
I drag myself into the kitchen and onto one of the barstools. I stopped to grab a burger at one of my favorite burger spots in the city and I groan happily when I'm finally able to bite into it. A little bit of joy seeps into my atrocious day.
I'm barely three bites in when I realize I can hear voices coming from upstairs. I pause my chewing and strain my ears to listen.
It only takes a moment for me to realize that what I heard… is exactly what I thought it was.
The red haze from this morning clouds my vision again.
This motherfucker actually has a girl over right now.
I'm fuming when I hear the girl's laughter drift down the stairs. The sound is clear enough that I have a feeling Tristan's bedroom door is wide open. Which he only would've done if he wanted to make this even more awkward for me than it already is. He’s probably trying to piss me off by making me stay downstairs until he’s done, since there's no way to get to Jax's bedroom without passing Tristan's first.
I let loose a low growl. I cannot believe he could be this infantile.
It only takes me a second to decide that Tristan can no longer go unpunished. I tried to be nice—even my house rules were meant to make it easy for us to avoid each other—but between this and the morning prank, I've had about enough of his games.
I can play games of my own.
I walk quietly up the stairs so they can't hear me coming. Just before I reach Tristan's bedroom, I plaster a shell-shocked expression on my face.
"Oh my god, Tristan!" I shriek. "What are you doing?!"
They both jump when they hear me come through the door. Tristan is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, and a half-naked girl in only her bra and panties is straddling him. They're both openly staring at me.
I cover my face with my hands and cry loud, fake sobs. "How could you?" I cry. "You said I was the love of your life!" I gesture angrily at the girl who has now jumped up and is looking back and forth between Tristan and I. "Who is this bitch? Is she who you've been fucking behind my back?"
Tristan is still staring at me, slack-jawed.
"I—I didn't—" stammers the poor girl. "I didn't know he—I sh-should go." She quickly grabs her clothes off the floor and pushes past me toward the stairs.
"Babe, wait!" Tristan finally says, following her path into the hallway. "She's not who you think! She's—" But to her credit, the girl is already gone.
I chuckle and cross my arms. "Babe?" I mock. "Is that what you call them when you can't remember their names?"
I watch Tristan slowly turn back toward me, anger radiating from every inch of his body.
Every inch of his perfect, muscled body, I realize, as it registers in my brain that he's still half-naked.
I swallow roughly, trying very hard not to let my eyes wander.
"You," he growls. He inches closer to where I'm standing against the doorway. "Does it make you happy to ruin my fun?"
My nerves fade in the face of his anger. I glare daggers at him and step forward, putting myself right in his face. "Your fun?" I shout. "I don't give a shit about your fun! Not when you're trying to make my life a living hell! I was going to be an adult and let this morning's incident slide, but did you really expect me to wait downstairs like a blushing nun while you finished with your sorority girl?"
Despite our height difference we're barely a breath away from each other, both seething through clenched teeth and squeezing our hands into fists. I can actually see the anger flashing like lightning in his eyes. I can feel the fury radiating off of him in waves, can see how badly he wants to throw me out for ruining his night. But I’m just as angry, and there’s not a chance in hell that I’m going to roll over and let him keep playing me.
Neither of us wants to be the first to back down.
Suddenly the anger drains from him, to be replaced with his typical cocky grin. His eyes trail across my face, down to my chest that's practically pushed against him because of our closeness, then back up to my scowl.
"Jealous, Remy baby?" he taunts. "You can admit that's why you got rid of her. I would completely understand."
The red haze clouds my vision again—for the fourth time since I moved into this house twenty-four hours ago.
"Hardly," I snap. "She should be thanking me for saving her from a night of subpar sex."
Tristan's white teeth flash in a grin. "Subpar? Hardly," he chuckles. His eyes shine with his arrogance.
He takes a step forward, forcing me to take a step back. With another step he's backed me against the wall. My eyes widen when he braces his hands on either side of my head, trapping me in place. I know I should push him away, but I can’t quite catch my breath enough to move. This feels so different from when we train at the gym. Now, there’s no purpose for our closeness. Now, there’s just emotion and intimidation and… tension. I’m shockingly aware of the fury in his gaze that’s cooled to annoyance, and the angry warmth that’s still radiating from his bare skin.
We’re not breathing from physical exertion; we’re gasping from the growing heat.
"Beg me for it and I’ll prove it to you," he purrs. "I promise I can fuck you better than whatever nerds you usually sleep with."
A flash of unexpected lust rushes through me and I bite my lip to keep a gasp from escaping. His eyes dart to my lips—and immediately darken when his pupils dilate with that same lust.
"I don't fuck nerds," I say weakly. "I just happen to have a different type than 'arrogant womanizer.'"
He rips his eyes from my lips and grins at my response. His arms drop and he steps away from me.
"You don't know what you're missing," he says. He steps through the doorway to his bedroom but pauses before he actually shuts the door. His eyes pass over my body again. "Actually, you should probably stick with whatever your loser type is. It would take too much time to break you in for my tastes."
He slams his door and I feel my heart drop into my stomach.
It takes me forever to fall asleep that night.
* * *
The next day is marginally better than the previous one. I made sure to lock Jax's door before I fell asleep—to ensure no hidden pranks were pulled in retaliation for chasing away Tristan's booty call—and he was already gone by the time I woke up, so I did actually get to enjoy my coffee with a book in the morning.
Work flies by. I barely notice the construction today since I'm buried in documents all day. I've got a few deadlines coming up on Friday and I'm so distracted by the amount of editing that needs to be done that I do a double take when I realize it's almost 6:00.
I curse mentally. I'm meeting Hailey for dinner tonight and our reservation is set for 8:30. I was really hoping to get a workout in before we gorged ourselves at the new Italian restaurant but now that it's so late, I'll probably only have enough time for a quick run.
I clean up my desk and pack my bag, grumbling to myself the entire time. I decide to head down to the gym in the basement to get a treadmill run in before I go home to get ready.
My four miles fly by quickly. I think females have decent cardio to begin with but couple that with my workouts at the MMA gym and my weekly runs, and I'm in the best shape I’ve ever been in. Even as a teenager, I preferred to be strong and healthy. MMA was the perfect sport for me in that sense.
The physical exercise puts me in a happy mood. Although today's been an uneventful, decent day to begin with, a rush of endorphins always puts me in a great mood. I typically cool down with stretching that doubles as meditation, but I don't quite have enough time for that today. Instead, I grab my stuff, throw on my hoodie, and call an Uber as I walk outside. Fifteen minutes later I'm already walking into the house.
I see Tristan standing in the kitchen as soon as I open the door. He's got an empty plate in front of him and he's holding a half-empty water bottle in his hand. But after one glance at him it takes everything in me not to let my jaw physically drop to the floor.
I can’t decide which I want to focus on first: the black suit pants that are tight enough to showcase his strong thighs and grabbable ass, or the white button-up shirt that’s stretched across his massive chest and rolled up to his elbows to expose his muscular forearms.
He is... heart-stoppingly sexy.
It takes me a second to figure out why he's dressed up. I heard Jax mention a few times that Tristan will occasionally work a nighttime security shift, but I never really considered what that would look like. Although now that I think about it, security guards do typically dress like he is now.
I just tend to picture them as fat old men—not stunning young sex gods.
I internally shake my head to clear my traitorous thoughts. I force myself to remember how furious he made me yesterday with his stupid games, and how frustrated I had felt after he cornered me against the wall.
Okay that thought process isn't helping to steer me away from my inappropriate thoughts...
Luckily, he interrupts my inner turmoil. "Well, well, if it isn't Ms. Cockblock," he taunts.
I shoot a glare at him as I throw my bag on the couch—any expression that isn't open-mouthed staring. Walking around the island, I open the fridge to grab a water bottle of my own, trying to avoid any further eye-fucking.
"You deserved it," I snap. I turn to face him and lean against the counter as I take a sip of the water. The cold is shockingly refreshing and seems to calm my nerves.
"Consider us even," I continue. "Now can we go back to the rules I kindly suggested in the very beginning? Just call a truce and go back to ignoring each other?"
He crosses his arms and stares at me for a moment, but he doesn’t answer my question.
I roll my eyes. "Whatever. I don't have time for this. I’m going upstairs to shower.”
A smirk finally curls the corners of his lips. “Want me to join? You’re clearly enjoying my appearance tonight. I assure you I look even better in the shower.” The smirk stretches into a wide grin. “I’ll even help you pick out the right outfit after.”
A furious blush lights my cheeks at having been caught checking him out. My embarrassment causes me to lash out. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap. “It’s just weird seeing you dress for a job that doesn’t involve rolling around with sweaty men.” He doesn’t react to my taunt, just continues leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face.
Feeling both flustered from Tristan calling me out and panicked that he’ll continue his teasing, I hurry from the kitchen and head upstairs to get away from him as quickly as possible. I select an outfit for dinner tonight and head to the bathroom to get ready.
A minute later, I'm standing under the rainfall shower and exhaling the tension I didn't realize I was holding onto. I mentally slap myself for letting myself be so affected by Tristan.
It’s never really been like this with him before. Sure, I always knew he was attractive, but that’s about all that was likeable about him. He was too arrogant and too selfish for me to be interested in him in any real capacity. Other than Jax, the only thing he ever seemed to give a shit about was fighting, which meant even women didn’t matter to him beyond being a good fuck. And since I’m not interested in sleeping with a coach that I’m going to have to see every day after he tosses me to the curb, sex has always been completely off the table. Which just leaves the option of friendship.
That, obviously, hasn’t worked out either. I’m not sure he even knows how to be friends with a woman. So instead, we’ve been insulting each other for three years and trying not to kill each other for Jax’s sake. It’s never gotten so bad that one of us has actually hurt the other, but it’s clear to anyone that sees us interact that we really don’t like each other. I can count on one hand the amount of positive interactions we’ve had over the years. Jax tries to keep us apart as much as possible but between training at the gym, fight nights at the house, fights at the arena, and the average house party between the gym family, it’s pretty much impossible to keep us apart entirely. Over the years we just had to learn to deal with each other.
But there’s never been a sexual undertone like there is now. Tristan has never flustered me as much as he has this week. I can’t figure out if it’s the forced proximity or the absence of Jax, but ever since I ran that sorority chick out of his bedroom, it’s like there’s a charge between us. I’m not sure if it’s an “I wanna fuck you” charge or an “I’m minutes away from killing you” charge, but it’s definitely there. He’s thrown me off my game this week and flustered me way more than I’m comfortable with. Not to mention I’m noticing his physical appearance now, which is absolutely unacceptable.
I shudder, remembering how he looked at me after he had backed me into the wall last night. Hours later, I still couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to have his heated gaze on me. I tried—and failed—to keep my brain from imagining what it would be like to lick his lips. To be caged underneath him. To feel him take his anger out on me. Even now, my brain is caught up in the image and my hand is trailing down my stomach...
I growl in disgust at my own thoughts and reach forward to turn the water to cold. I can't keep thinking like this. Tristan is an ass, and off-limits, so anything happening between us is a huge no-no.
That is, if he would even have me. I haven't forgotten his words last night. No, the only solution is to continue ignoring him and hope he gets tired of his games.
A small thud interrupts my thoughts. I frown, straining to hear what the sound was.
Eventually I decide it was probably the front door slamming shut as Tristan left for work. I turn back to the loofah in my hand and set to washing the rest of my body under the cold water.
Thoroughly chilled and with thoughts of Tristan banished from my mind, I turn the water off and reach for my towel.
My hand meets only air.
I pull back the shower curtain with a frown and look to where I had hung my towel up.
It's not there.
I look around, my frown deepening. My clothes aren't where I left them on the sink, either.
My eyes go wide. Suddenly I realize what's happening—what the sound was that I heard.
"TRISTAN!" I scream.
He's already there on the other side of the door, chuckling.
"Are you kidding me?!" I shout. "You stole my clothes?!"
I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
I let out a low growl and start pacing the bathroom. "Come on Tristan, I don't have time for this! Just give me my clothes back! Or at least give me a towel, damnit."
He chuckles again. "Nah, I think I'd rather watch you fumble your way through this.” He laughs again. “You know, I did offer to help with your outfit. Maybe next time you'll take me up on it instead of getting defensive and yelling at me. Now you're stuck with an outfit that I know you're not happy with."
"Fuck you, Tristan!" I explode, trembling with fury. I hate, more than anything, when men hold power over me. And right now, standing wet and naked on the cold porcelain tile, I feel as powerless as I have in a long time. "I would rather go through my entire day naked than shower with you."
This time he lets out a loud, raucous laugh. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what it looks like when water is running down my naked body. You'd actually be drooling at the chance." I don't even have to imagine the smug look that I know is on his face.
A shiver runs through my body and I'm so glad he can't see me right now. He would never be able to miss the way my nipples harden at that thought.
"You just keep telling yourself that," I snap. "Whatever keeps your precious ego inflated."
I keep pacing, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to get out of here. "You know you really are the worst kind of asshole," I growl through clenched teeth. "Either you make me sit in here, wet and cold, until you take pity on me and let me out, or you make me suffer the humiliation of walking out of here naked. Either way, I repeat: you are an asshole."
I can easily picture his quiet grin on the other side of the door.
"Oh my god," I realize quietly. I stop pacing and stare, dumbfounded, at the door. "You really don't think I'll do it."
"I know you won't," he mocks. "That's why this is fun."
If it were anyone else, or any other situation, he'd be absolutely right. I would never let someone see me naked like this. It's not that I'm ashamed of my body, because I'm not—I work hard in the gym and I'm proud of the way my body looks. But seeing me fully naked is an intimate thing, something that only one other boy has ever seen. Other boyfriends only ever saw me in the dark, or partially clothed. I never wanted to give them the space or time to see my body. It felt like an intimate secret that I didn't want to share with just anyone.
Despite all of that, there's one difference in this situation: I hate seeing Tristan win. I have no problem showing myself if it means beating him at his own game. Hell, of all the reasons to show off my naked body, this is probably at the top of the list.
And all of a sudden, I'm the one who's grinning.
I straighten up and lift my chin. Before I can think too hard about what I'm about to do, I open the door and step out into the hallway.
Tristan is leaning on the railing, arms crossed, with a giant smirk on his face. He's enjoying my torture way too much. But when he sees me step out of the bathroom, his entire demeanor changes. His eyes go wide.
Then his gaze begins trailing down my body. I can feel the blush light my face on fire, but I don't break my stare—I won't give him the satisfaction of my embarrassment. I keep my focus locked on his face as I walk slowly toward him. His eyes snap up to meet mine once I'm standing in front of him.
His shock over my action and obvious appreciation of my body immediately inject me with confidence. I push my breasts forward and cock my hip to the side to accentuate my curves. Of all the power games we play, in this moment, I know I’ve won this round. And I want nothing more than to make sure he knows that.
I smirk at his expression. "You know," I purr, tracing my finger down the front of his shirt, "it's not exactly the best proof of your social prowess if you have to trick a girl into getting naked and wet for you."
I saunter down the hallway to my bedroom and slam the door behind me.