Words & Whiskey

EDITED VERSION: Chapter Twenty-Three

Nathan tilted his head to ponder what I had said and then gave me a smirk. "You think my face is pretty?"

"Nathan," I stared at him intently. "Please stop, I'm worried about you. Darian is worried about you."

Nathan finished wrapping my hand and turned away, not wanting to face me. He scratched his head and sighed. "I have a match tonight. And even if I didn't, boxing is my life. It makes me feel free."

I stayed silent and Nathan continued, now looking directly at me. "You had once told me you write to escape your life, to feel free of it. It made you soar. Well, doing this makes me feel the exact same way. I'm not going to give it up."

I nodded my head in understanding. His boxing may concern me but I didn't want to be the reason he doesn't feel free, the reason why he doesn't have that escape like I do.

I touched his arm and gave it a small squeeze. "If it's what makes you happy, I'd never want to be the reason it's gone. But can you promise me something?"

Nathan shrugged and smiled slightly. "Anything."

"If it ever becomes too much, if you ever get hurt to the point you need to go to the hospital and you're coughing up blood or you got your face so smashed in that I can't even recognize you, promise me you'll stop," I licked my lips and continued. "It's okay to love something, but it's not okay if you love it to the point you'll let it kill you. I know it's a far stretch and overdramatic but people have died from this, Nate. So, promise me."

Nathan walked up to me slowly and gently held both my hands. His forehead rested on mine and his eyes glinted with an emotion I had never seen before, causing my heart to pick up in pace. "I promise you, princess. Nothing will happen to me, but if it does, I promise you I'll stop."

"So, when exactly does your match start and who are you fighting?" I asked, sitting on the bench watching Nathan attack the bag.

Despite Nathan's best efforts to get me out of the gym for the day, I refused to go. After an hour of arguing, he finally caved and told me to sit on the bench while he practiced. I offered to practice too, but he said that boxing in high-heeled boots was not the most appropriate choice. Personally, I think he's being overdramatic seeing as I could just take off my shoes and do it in socks, but at least I get to stay.

He paused for a moment and tilted his head, trying to remember the details of his upcoming fight. "It's at midnight and it's some guy from another gym. I don't remember his name."

"Why would you be fighting someone from another gym?" I scrunch my nose in confusion.

Nathan sighed and walked over to the bench I was sitting on and took a seat beside me. He looked down at the floor and fidgeted his right leg. "Because this gym likes to host matches, you know, so we can place bets on who will win. It makes money, gains traction, and hell even recruits new members."

I looked at Nathan, my eyes wide with worry. "So you fight for money? Like what, your own personal Fight Club?'"

He only shook his head and muttered under his breath. "It doesn't matter because you aren't going to be here when it happens. Understood?"

I jumped to my feet and crossed my arms, trying to emphasize my point. "Like hell, I'm not going to be here! And you can't tell me what to do, I'm not your property!"

Nathan got on his feet and positioned his head so our eyes were meeting at the perfect height. "You may not be my property but in this gym, you are mine because those guys would jump on the chance to get with you. As long as you are in this gym, you listen to me so nobody gets hurt."