Brutal Boxer by Naomi Porter

8

Boxer

The harsh fluorescent lights burned my retinas as I waited in the locker room for my fight. The gray walls were closing in, suffocating me.

Ire and the guys had left twenty minutes ago. Wolf hung back with me. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t worried Ire would get the crap beat out of him. With my lack of focus, I might too.

Not even my favorite get-me-into-the-zone playlist settled me. The music sounded like static filtering into my eardrums.

It was a damn shame if Led Zeppelin didn’t do shit for me.

Sweat beaded down my forehead, my pulse beating faster than usual. I removed my headphones to listen to the crowd upstairs. They were crazy loud and wild. It must’ve been an exciting fight. I hoped Ire had his mojo back.

I cut my gaze at Wolf. His pensive expression bordered on ill. He didn’t think I was ready for this.

The truth was, I wasn’t. I blamed Aspen for fucking with my head in less than twelve hours.

I needed to purge her from my memory. Pound out some frustration onto my opponent and get pounded back. That was what this fight had been about for years. An attempt to get Aspen out of my head.

It never worked.

Call off the match before you kill yourself.

Fisting my hands, I shook the warning out of my head and stood with resolve. Maybe I really had lost my mind.

“Are you sure about this?” Wolf’s question broke my concentration.

“Yes.”

He let out a frustrated huff. “You can call off the fight. There’s still time.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Neither do I.

“It’s happening.” I shot him a pointed, don’t-fuck-with-me look.

“Then let’s go.” Wolf’s shoulders sagged as he exited the locker room.

I refused to back out. No matter how unsure I felt, I wasn’t a quitter or a coward. The irony knocked me upside the head…

I had been a coward when I refused to see Aspen. Her motherfucking boyfriend had choked her. Handcuffed her to a bed. She could’ve died…

No matter how much I tried to not want her, I did. And I hated it.

She’d never want me back or give me the time of day. Not sure why I was thinking this shit minutes before my biggest fight of the year.

I sure as hell didn’t need Aspen Crosby.

The rowdy crowd did nothing to get my adrenaline pumping. I didn’t see white. I didn’t snarl like a rabid dog, ready to plow down my opponent, tearing him to shreds.

This match was a horrible idea.

Tito the Freak stood in front of me. What kind of name was that? The dude clearly came up with it on his own. Probably meant he was a freak.

He was two years younger than me. The tattoos on his face were gnarly. A coat of arms was on his left temple, a hazard symbol on the right, and “Tito the Freak” in an Old English font on his forehead.

The dude’s whole body was covered in ink, straight down to his ankles and the tops of his feet. Tito swaggered about the cage with a cocky confidence that said, “I’m gonna rip you up.” He was something else.

The lesson for today?

Never let a woman fuck with my mind. It may cost me big.

The ref came between us. He leveled his beady eyes at me. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” I barked with my mouthpiece in place.

“You ready?” He pointed to Tito, who nodded. Ref clapped and shouted. “Let’s go.”

At the sound of the bell dinging, we were on the move.

I kept my feet quick and my eyes on Tito. He took a jab, I returned the same. The crowd amped up the yelling as we worked the floor, moving about the cage. Tito threw everything from elbows to knees faster than anyone I’d fought before. I had to admit it was freaky how rapidly he moved. But I kept up, dishing back my own playlist of uppercuts and knee strikes, tossing in a wrestler’s tie up to pull a leg trip takedown.

Tito was speedy; he broke free before I had him on his back or against the cage.

It seemed to be an even match until the glimpse of a blonde distracted me.

Stupidly, I darted my eyes off Tito for a millisecond. Maybe two. Wolf yelled my name. I glanced between Tito and the blonde with long hair. I couldn’t see her face, only the guy kissing her neck.

Tito startled me with a quick jab on my side. I shuffled back as he got in another punch, pushing me against the cage. In the clinch, I struggled to get out and get the upper hand as Tito went nuts with strikes to my ribs.

The match was going to hell in a handbasket.

“Zach! Get out of there!” Wolf yelled.

I tuned out my brother despite hearing my birth name. Hell, the whooshing sound in my head muffled most of the noise in the building.

I took a hit on the left side of my face, then the right. Yet, I still sought out the blonde. I found her, tossing her head back the same way Aspen would, laughing. The dumb fuck next to her copped a feel of her inner thigh. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. It was like I had to see how far his hand would travel under her skirt.

Wolf yelled as a punch to my jaw sent my head back into the cage.

Fuck!

I couldn’t get my head back into the fight. All I thought of was Aspen, hiding out in my club. I knew the fucker was coming for her. He’d hunt her down, turning the world on its side if needed.

“Zach!” Wolf went nuts outside the cage.

I shook my head while Tito jabbed my side, pinning me to the wall. I couldn’t lose the fight. I wouldn’t give Aspen power over me. Not again.

Turning the tables, I shifted, grabbing Tito and throwing him to the side. I got out, bounced on my feet, and pivoted. Kicking my leg up for a round kick, I missed the deranged piece of shit.

He copied the same move.

I caught his leg, bringing an outside trip for the takedown. Tito hit the floor, landing flat on his back.

No mercy, I chanted to myself. Finish it.

Pinning him happened lightning fast. Gassed like never before, I had my enemy under me, both arms clasped tightly behind his back. I avoided a closed guard when he tried to get his legs around me. Coming from the side, I went for it, no mercy, unleashing a round of brutal ground strikes as I imagined Aspen’s boyfriend taking the hits.

I didn’t let up, hearing finish it, finish it, finish it!

I pulverized Tito until the ref pulled me off.

After not doing shit because the blonde in the crowd had broken my focus, I got the job done. It’d been Aspen screwing with my head. Fuck, it made me furious.

Turning toward Wolf, Track, and Lynx, I bobbed my head that I was okay. The concern on Wolf’s face was palpable as I gasped in buckets of air, waiting for the judges to announce the winner.

Tito the Freak hadn’t gotten off the mat. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t moving.

I staggered, wobbling to the side, my left eye almost swollen shut, my body covered in blood and sweat. I braced my hand on my hip, gritting my teeth through the pain in my ribs.

Dammit, that was close.

Too damn close.

I could’ve lost because of her. This wasn’t okay with me. I didn’t need Aspen screwing up my life more than she already had. She needed to leave the compound. Today.

The ref raised my arm as my brothers joined me in the cage.

Fight over.

I won… barely.

I closed my eyes, frustrated as all get-out.

In a few hours, I’d be forced to see her. Just like the day I met her. If I’d defied my parents, my life would have turned out a whole helluva lot better…

Muffled laughter and cheering caught my attention while I moped in my bedroom. Dad was no doubt trying his best to pique my curiosity and spur me out of my room.

Nice try. Not happening.

I’d been brooding for the last hour. Lamenting my sucky, boring life. Obviously, my parents hated me. Holding me hostage when all I wanted was to hang with my buddies.

No dice.

According to Mom, Thanksgiving was a time for family.

Utter bullshit. My friends were my family too. But Mom didn’t buy into my “nonsense.”

Didn’t she understand how I only lived for going out like every other sixteen-year-old boy?

Dramatic much, Zach?

Hell yeah, I was.

A double knock on my door startled me. “What?”

“Hey Mr. Mopey Pants, be on your best behavior. I have a new friend joining us for dinner,” my little sister, Jill, yelled through the door. “Oh, and Mom said, we eat in thirty.”

The doorbell rang.

“Eek, she’s here!”

I buried my face in the pillow and let out a primal roar. If I had to be on my best behavior, I should be rewarded. Maybe if I played nice, Mom would let me hang with the guys. Wasn’t fair Jill had a friend over. I’d use that as leverage to make them let me go out.

Hopping off the bed, I checked my appearance in the mirrored closet door. Running fingers through my hair, I admired the way my bicep flexed each time I brushed my hand across the side of my head. Working out at the gym had paid off beautifully. Even better, I’d learned the fine art of boxing and a little mixed martial art.

“Damn, you’re one fine specimen, friend.” I whistled at the image in the mirror.

The Marines were lucky I wanted to join up. Most guys my age didn’t think about the future beyond friends and sex. Unless they were nerds planning to get a higher education. College wasn’t for me. I didn’t have the patience for academics with my 2.7 GPA.

I snickered at my reflection, then left to join the family.

As I neared the living room, I dialed into an unfamiliar voice. It was soft and airy, making me slow my pace.

My younger sister was cool most days for a fourteen year old. She was what I would call alternative. Short brown hair, shaved on one side, chin-length on the other, and black-framed glasses. The thick, nerdy kind. Her friend probably looked the same. Another chick who didn’t do mainstream commercial fashions and brands. She probably listened to alternative rock, like Jill.

Not me, though. Gimme classic rock any day of the week.

I peeked into the room. Long blonde hair caught my eye. Bummer. I preferred brunettes. Not like I would ever consider one of Jill’s friends. That’d be weird, and Jill wouldn’t go for it.

Strutting in like I ruled the world, my mother’s face beamed. “Zach, I’m glad you’re here. Come meet Jill’s friend, Aspen.”

“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged, no big deal. The girl didn’t turn to acknowledge my presence. Stuck-up girls usually had princess complexes. I bit back a rude comment as it floated onto my tongue. Saying what I thought wouldn’t have bode well with my parents or Jill.

Veering around the sectional, I choked on my spit. Hypnotic green eyes connected with mine, stealing the air from my lungs. Seconds marched by, then Jill snickered, waking me from the spell I’d been under.

I was screwed.

Aspen’s lashes fluttered, the apples of her cheeks turning pink as she smiled softly.

Sparks ignited inside me like the ones in her alluring eyes. I was so screwed with a capital S.

“Aspen, this is Zach, my older brother,” Jill introduced. “He’s sixteen. Plays football on the varsity team.”

I puffed out my chest proudly.

Aspen dropped her gaze to her shoes, like she wasn’t impressed, but recovered quickly. “It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand, a first for me. I shook her warm, small hand feeling powerful and drawn to her.

A fruity scent tickled my nose. I stared at Aspen’s lips. Watermelon? It had to be watermelon lip gloss. Her luscious lips shimmered, tempting me to give them a lick.

“Good to meet ya,” I returned as my eyes trailed up to hers. “I turn seventeen in April,” I added like a dumbass.

“Dork,” Jill muttered, tugging Aspen’s hand out of mine.

Aspen tilted her head up, confusion in her green depths. She was a pretty little thing. Ivory skin, pink lips, and those glittering eyes lighting up my whole life.

I waited for her to respond, but she just sat there with an accessing eye.

“When I graduate, I’m joining the Marines,” I told her for no other reason than I didn’t know what else to say.

She looked at me strangely. “Hmm…”

That was it? Just, hmm?

“Well, let’s eat. I’m starved.” Mom directed everyone to the dining room.

Nice to meet you. Four unimportant, yet polite words were all Aspen spoke to me. The entire evening.

Was I invisible to her?

I didn’t understand it. Didn’t she feel the sparks between us? Was something wrong with me?

She wasn’t at all shy talking to my parents about moving up to Oregon from Southern California with her dad or the Dodgers or laughing at my dad’s corny jokes.

Kill me now, but she had the cutest laugh and did this little thing where she scrunched her nose when Jill teased her. So freaking adorable, it melted my heart. I should’ve been embarrassed for even admitting it, but I wasn’t.

My heart hammered in my chest, my armpits sweating the whole time she was here. Four words. Only four damn words. What was that about?

Two hours later, the front door closed. Aspen was gone.

I flew off the sofa, grabbed Jill’s hand to pull her down the hallway to my room.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” Jill complained, trying to jerk her hand out of mine.

I slammed the door, leaning against it, gasping for air. My face burned as the rumblings of a volcano took form in my gut. I was ready to explode.

“What gives Zach?” Jill pushed her hip out, crossing her arms over her chest the way Mom did.

“What gives? What gives?” I roared, not giving a crap if I was overreacting. “What fucking gives with your friend?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Aspen was a perfect guest. Mom and dad really like her.” Jill acted as if nothing weird had happened. Like she didn’t notice her friend ignoring me. “And throw another F-bomb at me, and I’ll tell Mom.”

I growled, biting down on my tongue. “She ignored me like I wasn’t even in the room! Do you know what bullshit that is? Not to mention rude.”

“Cool your jets, hothead.” Jill rolled her eyes, placating me. “You don’t have to be a potty mouth about it.”

“Four words is all she said to me, Jill. That’s rude! Especially when I tried to engage her.”

“Engage her? You joined in the conversations, yes. But she didn’t have to speak to you directly. Maybe she didn’t have anything of relevance to say to you.” Jill snorted. “What? You like her or something?”

I scratched my head, dumbfounded.

Did I like Aspen?

There was something between us when we shook hands. But I would never admit it to Jill.

“Don’t. Just forget about her,” Jill blurted, interrupting my thought.

“Why should I?”

“She’s as pure as the driven snow. And you’re a rough and dirty dude who will only contaminate her. Aspen’s not your type at all. Plus, she’s my age. Ew!”

Pure as the driven snow? More like cold as ice.

“Well, thanks, sis. Love you too!”

“Don’t be hurt. Aspen’s not the right girl for you.” She pushed her glasses up her nose.

“You haven’t known Aspen that long. Maybe she is my type.”

“Zach, just don’t. I like her a lot.” She stomped her foot. “She’s my best friend!”

“Well fuck, Jill! Nobody said Snow can’t be your friend and date me too.”

With a body like hers… and those eyes, I had to have a shot with her. Even if she was my sister’s best friend and two years younger than me.

“Don’t be a jerk calling her names. Listen, there are tons of girls out there”—she pointed toward my window—“just waiting for you. When the timing is right, you’ll meet the girl of your dreams.” She shoved me to the side and darted out my door.

What if Aspen was that girl?