White Knuckles

Prologue

The lights were dimmed as much as they could be without the room being taken over by darkness, leaving me just enough light to see the punching bag that dangled a foot and a half in front of me. It felt as if my headphones were glued into my ears, the music blasting so loud it made my heart thump in my chest that it almost made me nauseous. Almost like speakers at a concert.

I swung my fist back and hit it hard against the punching bag. A couple of more punches, I told myself. Then I'd be done for the night, I'd be able to do more tomorrow. My hands hit the bag as hard as they could, imagining it was someone in front of me. Someone that pissed me off. Someone that deserved to get a good sock in the face for whatever reason.

A droplet of sweat fell off my eyebrow and landed on my cheekbone. With all the strength left in me, I threw one last punch at the punching bag and watched as it flew up into the air. I jogged to the edge of the ring before it came back down and knocked me over.

I leaned against the ropes and ripped my ear buds out of my ears, dropping them carefully onto the canvas along with my iPod. As I stood there trying to catch my breath, I heard something. A clap, then another, then a few more, the claps grow more frequent and I turned around.

There he was. Stepping out of the darkest part of the room, still clapping. What was he doing here? More importantly, how long had he been here? Had he been watching me all this time? Of course he hadn't. What guy would watch a girl throw punches at a boxing bag for an hour straight?

"What are you doing here, Justin?" I asked and raised my eyebrows at him, watching as he let his arms fall to his sides and took a few steps closer to the ring.

"I'm here to see you." He said as if it were so obvious to someone who was guessing.

That earned him a throaty laugh coming from me. "Of course you are." I rolled my eyes at him in disgust. When was he going to get a clue and realize I didn't want to have anything to do with him. 

"Aren't you happy to see me, Franceska?" He asked, pushing his lips into a small and cute pout that only he could pull off, stopping in front of the ring. 

Yes, the word felt so right at the tip of my tongue. But I couldn't say it. I wasn't allowed to. I had to keep reminding myself that I didn't want him. I didn't care how much he said he wanted me, I'd never want him. Are you sure about that, Franceska? Are you really, really, sure? "No." I said through clenched teeth as I stared down at him.

By the way the corner of his lips tugged upwards, it made me feel as if he knew I wanted to say yes. As if he had read my mind. He always seemed to do that. Know what I want to say, I mean.

"You don't seem so sure about your answer." One more step closer to the ring and he held onto the bottom rope.

"Yeah?" I widen my eyes and crouched down, holding onto the middle rope. With my crouched down and him standing in front me on the other side of the ring, it was almost impossible to get a wiff of his cologne. It filled my nostrils quickly, it would have made me want to cough and gag on any other day because of how strong it was. Now, though, it didn't have that affect on me.

"And you don't seem to understand that I don't want you. Not every girl is going to want you, Justin. Remember that I'm not the only girl that's ever going to reject you. I'm the first of many." With those words spoken, our eyes locking for just a second, I pulled myself up and turned my back to him.

I grabbed my stuff and headed into the changing rooms to change.