Louis considered him, his gaze boring through Liam as if he was seeking the secret to Liam’s compliance and would find a way to grasp onto it and tear it out of him.
At moments like this, Louis scared Liam just a bit.
Okay, a lot.
Liam swallowed nervously. Didn’t say anything.
Louis grinned—a dangerous smirk of confidence and knowing—then said, “Perhaps I do need to find him better trainers. If you can distract him this easily then he’s not ready.”
“That’s your call, Lou,” Liam retorted, using the nickname he knew Louis hated.
Louis took one step closer to Liam, crowding his personal space. “You know that boxing is not all about remaining standing right? It’s mostly about the ability to get the fuck back up when your brain and body are telling you to give in.”
“Zayn doesn’t quit. You get him the right trainers and he’ll find the focus to stay on his feet and make sure it’s the other guy who has to worry about how the fuck to get up off the mat,” Liam said, throwing Louis’s words back at him.
Louis shook his finger at Liam and smiled, all ferociousness gone from his demeanor. “I like you, Payne. I shouldn’t. But I do.”
“It’s inevitable,” Liam said as he shrugged. “Everyone likes me.”
“You may just be more dangerous than he is,” Louis observed, casting a glance back to the ring.
“I highly doubt that,” Liam replied. “Pretty sure I couldn’t take anyone down using child’s pose.”
Louis’s eyes narrowed. “No. You’re a charmer. A lion in puppy dog’s clothes. Kill them with confidence and charm, right? And you, Liam, have both in spades.”
Liam tipped his head toward the ring, where the swish and thwack of gloves against flesh was now coming at a regular rate. “You don’t think he’s ready?” Liam deflected, alluding to the fight Zayn was in tomorrow.
Louis turned toward the ring and watched the sparring match. “He’s ready for Sorenson. But Gamble is going to be another story altogether.”
“We have three months until Gamble,” Liam noted.
“We,” Louis said, dragging out the word. “Interesting.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Liam said with conviction.
Louis gave a gruff hmph. “We’ll see if you still mean that after Sorenson.”
Liam sat back in his chair and watched Zayn evade a jab then slam a fist into his sparring partner’s jaw that sent the other man reeling into the ropes.
Liam was still getting used to the idea of seeing his boyfriend beat to shit—with cuts on his face and body, swollen hands, and a fatigue that came from hours in the ring, working out, and an insane diet designed for Zayn to make weight. But Liam had never met anyone like Zayn before. So quiet and unassuming. Geeky. Intelligent. Brave. Completely unaware of just how charismatic he was.
And beautiful. So beautiful inside and out that he made Liam’s heart ache. Liam had fallen for Zayn hard and fast. He didn’t even try to deny it. But Zayn, on the other hand, still seemed to be hesitant about their relationship.
It didn’t matter though; Liam was just as persistent as Zayn. Just as stubborn.
Three months until Gamble. Until the fight that would put Zayn into the international fighting spotlight if he could win it. When he won, Liam corrected himself.
On the Mat (or Yeah, I'd Hit That)
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