Riley and the Boxers | ✔️

Thirty-Four

There was this strange feeling in my stomach, and it didn't feel very good.

"I don't do this for you, I do this for mum." I spat at him coldly, my eyes uncontrollably reflecting how much I loathed him. That was the other reason why I studied so hard; I wanted to make her proud, especially after all she had done for me and Maria. Unlike my father, who left us and ran off in the darkest time of our lives.

Father didn't reply, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. I scoffed. Whatever. It could never compare to the amount of hurt Maria and I felt when he left us for his own sake.

"You have one final test, Chance." He said instead, ignoring my comment. I knew exactly what he was talking about — the boxing match with M.O's best boxer. "It's on tonight."

My eyes widened. "I'm fighting against Adam tonight?"

He shook his head firmly, finally looking up from his work and at me. "Not Adam. Me."

I stared at him for a while, trying to comprehend what he just said. Then I bursted out laughing, clutching my stomach as I struggled to utter out a word. Me, against dad?! Is he joking?!

Then my laughter gradually died down when I realised my father never jokes.

I looked over at him, as he stared back at me with dead-serious eyes.

"But you haven't boxed in ten years." I pointed out.

"Maybe," He agreed. Then he grabbed some random remote from one of his drawers and pressed a button, causing an entire wall to flip and reveal his countless number of trophies. "But I believe I had more than enough experience to be prepared for life."

I stared at the trophies in awe, reminiscing about the old times when he'd sneak me into one of his matches because I was way too young, and I'd proudly watch him beat the opponent up. I knew my dad was a boxing legend, but now I was about to find out for myself just how legendary his fighting is.

"Mr Rogers?" He called, shooting Mr Rogers a knowing look.

Mr Rogers nodded back. "The arena is ready, Sir."

But I wasn't. Hell would I had expected his.

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Even if it were to be the most weirdest shit to ever happen, I still wished my father was kidding. Maybe he could've been trying something new; trying to be funny and cool for once.

But unfortunately, nope. Here he was, standing on the opposite side of this large, spacious boxing ring situated in the centre of a cold, empty and lifeless arena. He was no longer in his signature hand-tailored suits and was now dress in the typical boxing attire. I must admit, I was pretty impressed with his figure. Didn't think this fifty-three year old man still had his abs and stuff.

"Well?" My father's dominant voice boomed through the stadium, enchancing his power. "Are you going to stand there like a little lost puppy or are you going to fight like an Irish Wolfhound?"

If you couldn't tell, my dad's a dog-lover.

Rolling my eyes, I got into position and simultaneously father did so too. Then the strong tension commenced, as our eyes were like blades piercing through each other. Our stare-off was also coupled with the motions of us following each-other's every single twitch of a move as we walking in circles.