Harold Beaumont's Bruises

Waking up on Bourbon St

Harold's POV
Everything hurts.

"Get up!" My brown eyes crack open. Rolling over onto my stomach I see Noley looming over my bed, roughly shaking the naked dirty blonde laying next to me.

"Ugh! My god!" My one night stand from last night gasps awake, clutching my black sheets to her chest. I chuckle dryly at the sight of the brunette bombshell harassing my one night stand.

"Finally, your skank ass is up." Noley bites, flipping her curly brown hair over her shoulder.

"Excuse me?" The naked girl gasps, glaring up at the tall brunette.

"Oh, you and your drool are excused." Noley seethes. The blonde girl's hand flies to her mouth in horror. I would feel bad for the poor girl, but I don't give a shit. So, I lazily watch on, and enjoy the entertainment from my pillow.

"Now leave." Noley clips, burning holes into the girl with her brown eyes. The girl gawks up at Noley in a mixture of horror, disbelief, and tears.

"Did I stutter?" Noley growls, now she's really going to get mean. "Get your fake tits out!" Noley is surprisingly tamed in her bark. The girl chokes before stumbling onto her feet, and hurriedly grabbing her clothes off my floor. Just as the girl is making her escape Noley tightens her manicured fist on the sheet, and rips it away. The girl is stark naked and vulnerable at the foot of my bed, a complete mess now. The girl runs out in sobs, slamming the door behind her.

"I knew she had fake tits." Noley scoffs, sitting on my bed.

"You have crappy taste in women." I couldn't agree more with Noley. Noley shakes me gently, despite the fact I'm awake already.

"You have to get up, you have training, and a press conference later today. I left breakfast on the table, along with a hangover cure, and a Bloody Mary." Noley nags.

"Geez, Noley." I snap, hefting myself out of my king size bed. "Did you have to kick her out so soon? I wanted her to help with my morning wood." I say, gesturing to my tight boxers. Noley crawls across my messy bed, and tugs at the elastic waistband.

"Have you and I just meet? You know I can help with that." Noley smirks, lowering herself onto her knees in front of me.

------

With my hood pulled over my head I march into the gym. Immediately every individual stops what they're doing and gawks at me, and I hate it.

Ignoring everyone I go off into my corner far away from everyone as possible. I throw my bag at some scrawny nobody who stumbles at the impact.

"You. Go put that in my locker." I order, not even looking at him as I talk. More preoccupied with stretching than acknowledging him.

"Mornin' Beaumont." Toby drops down on a bench, his blonde head in his hands.

"You look like shit." I smirk, taping up my fists.

"I feel like shit, I'm hungover." Toby groans.

"You're a mystery, Beaumont. I don't know how you can drink so much you could get kidney failure, but never be hungover." Toby sighs, looking up at me between the cracks of his fingers. I just shrug, but I know fully well why I don't have hangovers; Noley. But I'm not admitting that, it'll be to much explaining, and right now I need to focus.

"The boxing gods must prefer you." Toby sighs, massaging his throbbing temples.

"Fuck that," I scoff. "I don't believe or need any 'gods favoring' me." I state, tapping my fists together.

"Don't say that to loudly, this is a catholic city." Toby warns. I ignore him and concrete. My brown eyes scan the gym out from under my hood, and instantly find the little photographer. Her face is buried in her camera, and she's snapping away at a sweaty, shirtless prick wailing on a punching bag with shitty form.

My jaw clenches, and my muscles tighten with anxiousness, ready to pommel anything. I angrily throw on my black boxing gloves, and climb into the nearest ring.