My eyes shoot open and I sit up, letting half of the blanket fall to the floor. How’d I forget that I have work this morning? “What’s the time?”
I leap out of bed and my toes dig into the lush carpet as I run to the bathroom. I really need to pee. When I wash my hands and step back into the room, Seth is lying on back on his bed in a pair of his fighting shorts—the ones with the slits up the side—and a white t-shirt.
“Relax,” he smiles. “It’s still early. I was thinking we could have breakfast, go to the gym and then take you to work.”
Wow. He has it all planned out. “Do I have time for all that?” I ask, searching one of his walls for a clock. I find nothing.
He sits up. “It’s only five. You have four hours until work and I’m already late for training now let’s go.”
I follow him downstairs and the smell of meat and eggs are overwhelming—nauseatingly overwhelming. Sure enough, there are two big steaks bleeding all over each other in the frying pan and a fresh bowl of scrambled eggs sitting in the middle of the breakfast bar beside a pitcher of orange juice and a stack of buttered toast.
“Are you hungry?” He asks proudly, taking charge of the stove and shuffling the steaks around. Of course he’s excited about cooking me breakfast, making me feel even more like a douche bag.
“Steak? I thought fighter’s drink all of those random shakes.”
He laughs. “We do that too.”
His spatula slides underneath the thick slab of meat and the juice and blood run off it as he lays it on a plate and slides it across the bench. Oh, God. It stops right in front of me and I almost gag.
“Seth,” I groan pushing the plate away. “Do you have fruit or yogurt? Anything other than meat and eggs?” I feel rude. He obviously got up early to do this for me.
His brown eyes widen and he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “You don’t like steak?”
“I do, just not early in the morning.”
“Well,” He announces opening the fridge. “You’re in luck because I have loads of fresh fruit and yogurt.”
He places apples, oranges, a container of blueberries and some strawberries on the counter. He reaches back into the fridge and pulls out a tub of Greek yogurt. I watch him effortlessly maneuver his way around the kitchen as he pulls the bowl from a cupboard and brings it over to me. I scoop yogurt and blueberries into my bowl while Seth eats his steak.
“Will your mom be joining us for breakfast?” I ask when I’m halfway through my food.
He shakes his head. “She won’t be up until this afternoon.”
He stuffs the last piece of steak in his mouth and takes his plate, dropping it in the sink. He washes his mouth and I slide my bowl over to him.
I put on my tennis shoes and join Seth in the car.
“Can you swing by my place so I can grab a change of clothing for work?”
“Can do, baby.” He laughs, pulling out of the driveway.
He’s very chipper this morning, very upbeat. After last night I assumed he’d be down in the dumps today. “You’re happy,” I state. “I like it.”
“I have no reasons to be unhappy today. Normally, when I pick my mother up from the police station I go to the gym as soon as it opens and smash the bag for a while. This morning, however, I woke up to your pretty face and I remembered that you are my girlfriend.” He smiles sideways at me and reaches across to squeeze my thigh. “It’s going to be a good day.”
Heat spreads throughout my chest and into my cheeks at the thought of him waking up so happy, and for no other reason other than I’m his girlfriend. It’s sweet. It’s sickeningly sweet and I love it. It makes me feel special and who doesn’t like feeling special?
We didn’t spend too long at my house. Seth waited in the car while I ran inside and grabbed a sweater, a pair of black slacks and some short black heels. I made sure I grabbed my make-up bag and hair brush, too. I also managed to stuff some tights and a t-shirt into my backpack so I can work out. When we get to the gym, Seth’s coach Darryl is all over him, chastising him for being late and unprofessional. Jackson is also here, leaning against the wall shaking his head at us in disapproval. I split off, leaving Seth to deal with his pissed off team and head to the shower room. I change into my clothes and come back out. Seth is in the boxing ring with his sparring partner. I avert my gaze as Seth’s fist is about to connect with the other guy’s face. I don’t see it, but I hear the guy hit the floor and I cringe, picturing everything in my head.
“Olly!” Dad calls from his window. I look up and see him hanging halfway out his window to talk to me. The thought of him falling makes me nervous.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hold on,” he smiles. “I’ll come down.”
I scuff my shoes along the mat while I wait for him. He rounds the corner looking all cheery and alert. “It’s been a while since you’ve come to the gym.” He says, pulling me into a hug.
“Yeah, I’ve been busy. But I’m here today.”
Dad slings a heavy arm over my shoulder, walking me toward the ring. I glance sideways at him and see one French fry poking out of his pocket. I pull it out and glare at him. “You’re supposed to be eating healthy. You know, for the sake of your heart.”
He flicks the fry from my hand and changes the subject. “Your mom and I came to your place last night, but you weren’t home.”
My cheeks heat up and I feel uncomfortable telling him I was at Seth’s.
“Sorry, Rick.” Seth pants, smiling confidently down at us from the ring. “She was with me.”
Shouldn’t Darryl be here making sure Seth is paying attention to training, instead of intruding on my conversations? I look around the gym. Darryl is talking into his phone, his face serious and focused on a spot on the mat. Jackson is leaning on Darryl, trying to get in on the conversation. I turn my attention back to Seth and Dad.
“Well, do you want to tell him?” Seth asks. “Or should I?”
“Tell him what?”
“That we’re together, officially.”
I smile, coyly. “Oh, right. Yeah. Dad we’re dating now, so...”
Dad’s thin lips curl up into a wide smile and in turn it makes me smile. He seems so young, so happy. “That’s great!” Dad laughs, slapping me on the shoulder. “Maybe someday soon I’ll have Seth Marc as my son in law.”
Seth and I chuckle nervously—I even think we both flushed. Neither one of us are thinking that far ahead. I turn from them both and head to the treadmill. If I stay and chat, I’ll never get any exercise time in and God knows my Dad can chat forever if he really wants to. I stretch a little, start up the treadmill and jog at a brisk pace. Every now and then I’ll look over at Seth training with his team. When he spars, my Dad is in the ring with him. His eyes wide like a kid in a candy store as he chats to Seth. The spar partner lies on the floor before Seth’s feet and Seth gives him his arm. I watch curiously as my dad inaudibly tells Seth what to do. The spar partner wraps his legs around Seth’s arm and pulls tightly. I wince, picturing the strain on the elbow. My dad crouches on the floor, talking—always talking. Seth nods in agreement and lifts the spar partner off the floor before slamming him back down. The guy lets go off Seth’s arm and Dad pats his back, happy with the result. Darryl and Jackson are setting up mats in the training room. I stop my treadmill. I want to see what they’re doing. I only ever see Seth boxing or sparring. I never see him actually work out. I peer around the door and I’m surprised when I see only a few chin-up bars in the room.
“What, no tractor tires?” I ask Jackson.
Jackson shakes his head and straightens a might on the floor. “Not this year.”
“Seth works on a body weight program.” Darryl chimes in. “Meaning he doesn’t lift excess weight, only his own.”
That’s still a lot of weight. “So what exactly does he do?”
“Every day, Seth does five sets of as many push-ups as he can, repping out until he reaches muscular failure. He will recover for 60 seconds and then begin his next set of push ups.” He points to the chin up bar. “Three days a week he does five sets of max rep chin-ups and some body weight squats. Running, skipping and other exercises are worked in there, too.”
“So no weights, no bells or machines? That’s a little simple for a fighter, isn’t it?” I have no idea. I’m just going off what I’ve seen from my dad’s DVDs.
“Seth likes a more... ‘Rocky’ type of work out and despite its simplicity; it’s a remarkably balanced program. If he makes pro then we might look at introducing machines.”
Darryl has it all figured out and I’m impressed. “Chin-ups aren’t that hard though.” I state. “I can do at least seven.”
Both Darryl and Jackson crack up like I’ve said the funniest joke in the world. It’s not a polite chuckle, it’s a hard out head back, and teeth showing kind of laugh. I’m quite proud of my ability to do seven chin-ups. It used to be five.
“Seven?” Darryl squeezes my bicep between his thumb and index. “That’s three more than what I assumed you could do.”
I feign insult and fold my arms across my chest. “And how many can you do?”
“A hell of a lot more than seven.”
“Prove it.” I say. Darryl
doesn’t look like much. Sure he’s lean and probably muscular under the shirt, but he doesn’t look like he has that much strength behind him.
“Okay,” He hands Jackson his clipboard and stopwatch. “You and me. We’ll take a bar each and the first one to stop loses.”
“Done.”
“Hold up,” He extends his hand to me. “Let’s make it interesting. If I win, you’ll stop making Seth show up late to training. If you win—”
“You’ll wear a dress to the next fight.” The words flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to think.
His dark lips smirk at me. “Deal.”
We shake hands and approach the bars. Jackson joins us, counting us in. When the word ‘go’ falls from his lips, Darryl and I start with the chin-ups. Almost immediately my arms start burning and my muscles tremble. My lungs burn with lack of oxygen because I’m holding my breath every time I pull myself up. I can hear Darryl breathing rhythmically and I realize this is a no brainer. He’s going to beat me. I lower myself and use all my strength to slowly pull myself up. Jackson is laughing, having the time of his life watching us. Beside me, Darryl is pulling himself up and down quickly, like it’s the easiest things he has ever done. My arms are going to let go. I can feel it. Screw it. I let the bar fall from my hands and I land with two feet on the floor. My muscles spasm under my skin and I lie down flat on my back on the cool mats. Darryl leans over me, hardly out of breath.
“I did eight.” I groan proudly.
He extends his hand to me and I take it. My arms feel like jelly. They feel as though they are going to separate from my body and float away any second now.
“Well done,” He smiles. “Now stop making my boy late.”
I roll my eyes. “You and I both know nobody can make Seth do anything he doesn’t want to.”
Dad’s laughter catches my attention as he and Seth enter the room.
“Darryl and Olivia just went head to head in a chin-up contest.” Jackson announces, pulling his green shirt over his head and exposing a lot more muscle than I assumed he had. “Olivia lost, obviously.” He chuckles and I scowl at him.
“I didn’t really lose.” I state. “I can do eight chin-ups now instead of seven.”
Laughter erupts from everyone and I huff. I guess seven isn’t brag worthy after all.
“Anyway,” Darryl publicizes. “I received a call from the MMAC earlier and they’ve announced your match up with Joshua Donskov in seven days. You know the rules. No sex. No bad fats and no sugars. The fight is in Boston. Win that and you’ll fight Don Russell for the pro contract in Las Vegas a week later.”
“I can’t wait to see you knock Josh Donskov on his ass.” Dad cheers and dread fills my stomach.
My dad can’t go to Boston because I can’t go to Boston to keep an eye on him. Mason will fire me if I ask for anymore time off. I’ve asked for too much already. Jackson, Dad and Darryl enter a discussion about Josh Donskov and his ‘brawler’ technique. I pull Seth over to the side.
“Dad can’t go to Boston...” I whisper to him.
His warm hands rub my arms and my shoulders, massaging me. “Between the two of us we should be able to look after him.”
I almost wince. He assumes I’ll be going to Boston with him. “Seth, I’m not going with you to Boston…”
His dark brows knit together. “You’ve been to two of my fights. Surely, it’s easier for you now.”
“It’s not about the fighting. It’s about my work. I have a job and I’ve taken too much time off already. I rely on my job to pay for rent, food and a million other things.”
“Okay, I’ll cover all those things for a little while. It’s not a big deal.”
It’s not a big deal? It’s a very big deal. I’m an adult which mean I am responsible for certain things. “Mason will probably fire me if—”
“So let him fire you.”
“Let him fire me?” I don’t sound angry which is how I feel. “Let him fire me? Are you insane? I need my job.”