I wake up and stretch, immediately getting the sharp reminder of last night's events. Glancing at the clock, I see that I've only been asleep for five short hours and I know that the circles under my eyes will be even darker than usual.
My body slowly climbs out of bed, aching with every movement I make. Once I'm standing upright, I place myself directly in front of the full-length mirror, sighing at my mess of disheveled hair. On further inspection, I see the small cuts gracing over my arms and I'm slightly wary to see just how bad my legs look.
There is also a bruise on my neck.
Well, several, really. In the shape of two hands.
My eyes tear up at the remembrance of last night. I don't know how I'm going to cover up the bruise, but I'll have to figure out something. It's in too obvious of a place with too much of a prominent shape; people will start asking questions if they see it.
I strip myself of the hot sweats and the t-shirt, glancing over myself in the mirror. There are too many cuts to cover up with makeup. Way too many to try to make an excuse for.
Looks like I'm going with long sleeves today.
My legs are worse than my arms, but not by much. Bandaids aren't exactly an option for me at this point, so I'll have to find an article of clothing that won't irritate the cuts too much.
I sigh, attempting to comb my hand through my tangled hair as I search for suitable clothes to wear to work. There's this soft, black maxi skirt I own that should work perfectly.
I just have to actually find it.
As I scrounge through my tiny closet, I hear my ringtone go off from the other side of the room and I rush towards it, just in case it's Luke. A repeat of last night is definitely not something I want happening again.
Picking up my phone, I see that it's just Josh. Since I didn't answer his message last night, I figure it would be a good idea to answer now if I want him to continue training me.
"Hello?" My voice echoes back to me through the speaker.
"Hey, Tatum. Still on for training today?"
In the background, I can hear someone's grunts as they pound their fists into the solid punching bag, the noise reverberating back to me. Josh's voice is barely a whisper to whoever he's with, quietly correcting something about their form before they go back to pounding on the bag.
I glance down at the red cuts all over my arms and legs. With these, I don't know when the next day I'll be able to train will be. Everything is exposed and Josh will ask questions if he sees my body covered in cuts. Not to mention the bruise on my neck that I'm still not sure how to cover up. Makeup will have to work.
"Actually, Josh, I can't today. Sorry. I went in yesterday and my body is sore and I wouldn't be able to handle a training session today. We can reschedule for one soon, though?"
Josh excuses himself from who he's with, walking away until the loud pounding can no longer be heard in the background of his voice.
"Yeah, Holden mentioned something about you yesterday. He said you got your hook down perfectly."
"Only because he helped me out with it."
Josh chuckles, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes at me. He hates it when I don't take credit for doing something well, especially when it's related to boxing.
"Fair enough, even though I know you could've gotten it without him. Will you still drop by today?"
"I told you I'm too sore, Josh."
He's rolling his eyes again. I just know it.
"I need to talk to you, Stevens. I'll let your sore little muscles have some rest."
Once I realized that it was Josh who called instead of Luke, I walked back to my closet, keeping the phone pressed to my ear for our conversation. "Since when do you call me by my last name?"
"Since you started being so stubborn."
My laugh resonates throughout my closet and I'm grinning widely. "Ha ha, Josh. You're just so hilarious."
"I know. So, you're stopping by later, right?"
"Sure thing, Henderson. I'll be by after work. Sound good?"
He laughs at my use of his last name and once again the loud pounding on a bag comes into focus. Whoever it is has been going at it for a long time, completely in focus.
"Sounds good, Stevens."
I roll my eyes at him, "Hey, who are you training with right now? They sound like they deserve a break."
"That would be the 'egotistical' Holden Samuels."
Well, it looks like I don't have to explain that situation to Josh. "He told you?"
Josh's laugh resonates through the speaker, "Told me? More like yelled at me for never talking about who he is. He was very offended that you had no idea about him, you know."
"I know."
A faint voice sounds from Josh's end, the Cheshire accent obviously present. "Is that her? Has she decided to apologize for calling me egotistical?"
There's the soft noise of a thud and I have a sneaking suspicion that one of the two men was just shoved to the ground. Between the two of them, I'm going to assume that my trainer is indeed the one on the floor. My guess was confirmed when I heard a loud grunt from Josh, "You are an egotistical asshole, Holden."
A giggle escapes my mouth at their interaction, the whole scene effortlessly playing out in my mind. My eyes scan over the disaster I call a closet, finally locating the maxi skirt I've been looking for. Snatching it off the hanger, I press my ear harder against the phone to keep it in place on my shoulder, struggling slightly to shimmy the fabric up my sliced legs. Once I successfully get the skirt into place, I stand amidst my closet, scanning absentmindedly as my focus returns to the riveting phone conversation.
"He's an egotistical asshole and you're distracting me from getting ready for work, Henderson."
More light shoves are heard from over the phone, but thankfully the men stop acting like boys for a minute to give me a proper goodbye.
"Bye, boys."
I remove the phone from the uncomfortable spot it was in and toss it onto my bed. A white and gold tank top looks appealing until I remember the dozens of cuts trailing down my arms. I'll wear a jacket.
It's spring, the heat worse than usual, but a jacket will have to work. A blazer looks professional for work so nobody will question me — not even in this ridiculous heat. I stand on my tiptoes, stretching up as much as possible in order to reach the hanger sporting my black blazer. I quickly slip the tank on, following it with the blazer before going to make a quick breakfast. Because of the time lost during the phone call, I'm running a little behind — hopefully hailing a taxi won't be a difficult feat.
* * *
I push my loose hair away from my face, the wind causing it to mess up more than usual. After the day at work, I'm sure my makeup is horribly smudged and I can feel the sweat collecting under my arms. I know I didn't have much of a choice, but the blazer was a bad idea. My free hand is up in the air, my purse threatening to slide down my arm as I impatiently wait for a cab to stop and drive me to the gym.
Finally, I see a yellow car stop a few feet in front of me and I graciously slide into the back seat.
"Where to, Miss?"
"1104 Baker Street."
I shove my hair out of my face once again, finally able to pat it down and tame it as much as possible. Glancing into the rearview mirror to catch my reflection, I see my noticeably flushed cheeks, but the same dead eyes as yesterday stare back at me. Even though it was only yesterday, I still feel as if I haven't looked into a mirror in years.
Every time I do, I don't recognize myself.
I wipe the smudged mascara from underneath my eyes before pressing my back into the solid, cool leather of the car.
It feels as if I've only been in the taxi for mere seconds before the driver slows to a stop along the curb. The gym is massive and very hard to miss, so the driver is able to easily stop right in front, giving me a short walk.
My purse hangs from my shoulder when I exit the cab, and I don't have the time or patience to dig out exact change for the ride. The meter reads $13.27, but I quickly fish out a twenty and hand it to the driver, thanking him as I rush to the front doors of the gym building.
I throw open the door, quickly rushing in. Josh only has the low setting for the air conditioning running. He keeps it like that because "every trainee must break a sweat; it'll only make them better."
I still don't understand how any of that correlates, but it is his gym, not mine.
My purse thumps as it makes contact with the floor. I gather up my dark hair, fastening it into a hair tie to keep it off of my neck. It feels like it's gradually getting hotter in here, but I know it's just me sweltering in this ridiculous outfit. I don't know how I thought it was a good idea earlier.
There's a light tap on my shoulder and I spin around to face Josh. Immediately, he pulls me into a tight hug, squeezing my sides gently.
"You made it."
I roll my eyes at him, "I told you I would."
He reaches out and punches my arm lightly. Usually, it wouldn't hurt, but the cuts sting when his fist makes contact. I wince, but thankfully Josh doesn't notice.
Somebody else does, though.
"Too sore to handle a little punch, eh, Smalls?"
I groan, paying Holden no mind. Josh starts walking away and I follow closely behind him, quickly catching up to walk right next to him.
And who decides to walk on the other side of me?
Holden. Of course.
"I'm sorry, but what are you even doing here, Samuels? If I recall correctly, I'm here because Josh wanted to talk to me. And you were working out here earlier, so you've no reason to hang around."
Both Josh and Holden break into laughter and I lowly growl, showing my discontentment. "What's so funny?"
Josh sobers up when hearing my tone, but Holden continues on with his laughter. When he laughs, his dimples pop out, his green eyes squinting to a close as the sides of his eyes crinkle. As annoying as he is, his laugh is lovely.
A lot better than having to listen to him talk about himself.
When Holden finally stop laughs, his smirk returns. His left eyebrow quirks up, "He wanted to talk to both of us, Smalls."
I whip around, turning to face my back to Holden completely. Both of my eyebrows are raised in Josh's direction, "Is this true?"
The look on Josh's face tells me it is. I glare at Josh, ignoring the feeling of Holden placing his large hands on my shoulders. As I try and communicate my displeasure to Josh with only my facial expressions, Holden's thumbs lightly rub into my shoulder blades. The cuts sting a little as his fingers brush against them, but I can feel my muscles loosening underneath his touch and decide to ignore the minuscule sting.
"Stop looking at me like that, Stevens. The conversation involves both of you."
I roll my eyes, "You could've told him when he was training here earlier. That way I wouldn't have to deal with him today."
Holden's thumbs press a little harder into my shoulder because of my words; it's hard enough for me to flinch. Normally, I wouldn't have flinched, but he just pressed directly into a cut. As soon as he felt my body flinch, he releases the harsh pressure and goes back to how it was before. My body once again relaxes under his touch, gentle fingers releasing out the tension in my back.
It is Josh's turn to roll his eyes at me. "He's not that bad. Besides, he wanted to see you."
The hands massaging my shoulders immediately leave and Holden quickly moves from behind me, tackling Josh to the ground. I watch them roll around on the mats for a few minutes until Holden pins him down, landing a light punch to Josh's chest.
After the punch, Holden pops up onto his feet, pulling Josh up with him. They're laughing now, not paying me any mind. "You guys are such children."
They both turn to face me, looking slightly put out that I called them children. With quick glances at each other, two small smiles grace their faces and they both take a couple quick steps before tackling me to the ground. I land to the ground with a thud, groaning as my body slams into the mat.
My skirt lifts up, wrapping around my knees and exposing my lower legs. I quickly throw myself into sitting position, pulling my skirt down to cover my legs completely once again.
I was just a little too late.
Holden's emerald eyes are locked onto my legs, a multitude of cuts exposed whenever my skirt flipped up. Josh didn't notice, but Holden seeing them is even worse.
Josh reaches his hand down to me and pulls me off the ground, laughing and smiling. I laugh with him, ignoring Holden's extremely serious face. The worst part of it? He saw me training. He knows those cuts weren't there yesterday.
I continue to walk with Josh, going towards the gym office. Holden's feet make loud thumps against the mat as he catches up with us. We all enter the office and I avoid eye contact with Holden, focusing solely on Josh.
"So what did you need to talk about?"
He looks between us, probably noting the fact that Holden hasn't taken his eyes off of me. Josh shakes it off, thinking about how to word whatever it is that he wants to say. "Samuels here thinks you have a lot of potential."
That was an odd way to start off a conversation. I nod, motioning for him to continue.
"I want to train you."
My head turns to face Holden, replaying that sentence in my head. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I want to train you." His pink lips look smooth as they form around the words, his accent causing his voice to seem slower. I don't have anything to say back to him, so I turn and look to Josh for assistance.
"You have potential, Tatum. I train Holden, but I also train a lot of other people. Holden would have a lot more time to train you and he's willing to do it for free. There's not many people that would ever get that opportunity."
Shifting my body around, I face Holden completely. "You want to train me?"
I only receive a nod in response, his eyes glancing between my face and my legs. He's thinking about the cuts he saw.
"It has to be about training me, Samuels. I'm taking this training for a reason. This can't be about you or you being a professional boxer. You're going to have to commit yourself to me."
The smirk is back, which is never a good sign. "I don't commit myself to anyone, babe. It's one of the perks of being me."
My face flushes, but I ignore it and stand, facing Josh again. "He's not serious about it. You know I came to you for actual training. I'll pass on this one."
Josh sighs, rolling his eyes at both me and Holden. He's stressed, I can tell. The look he gives me tells me that he believes training with Holden will not only help me improve, but it'll also help Holden. With what, I don't know.
I walk towards the door, only to be stopped by the Cheshire accent, "I'm sorry, T. Real training. That's it. Committed training."
Exhaling, I turn back to face him, "As long as you stick to that, then yes."
I don't think I've ever seen Josh so happy. Holden grants me with an actual smile instead of the smirk, and he holds out his hand for me to shake. For it being so calloused, his hand fits well with mine, apart from the fact that it practically swallows it. We make eye contact and one of his eyes grants me a quick wink.
There's no way to gauge what I've just gotten myself into.
Holden and I leave the office, allowing Josh to get caught up on the financial aspect of the gym. We walk silently together, a foot of space between us. As we near the door, he clears his throat. "We'll train here until the floor is done at my place. It'll be easier to focus in my gym."
"Okay. I'd say I need your number to figure out our training days, but you magically appeared with mine yesterday."
He grants me one of his adorable laughs again, "A text which you so graciously ignored."
I shrug, putting on a smirk of my own, "Wasn't in the mood."
For some reason, that triggers something in him. The smile and laughter that was prominent seconds ago completely vanishes. "Throw your hook before you go."
"What?"
He sighs, dragging me over to the same lightweight punching bag I was using yesterday. "Right hook."
I step back, shaking my head, "No, Holden. I'm too sore."
"One punch."
"No."
"Tatum. One. Punch."
I shove Holden away, "I said no." My feet move quickly across the gym, rushing to get my purse. He follows behind me, and I can tell he's tense without even looking at him. Bending down, I wrap my fingers around the strap of my purse before my wrist is pulled; Holden spins me around to face him, mere inches between our bodies.
"I told you to throw your hook."
"I told you that I'm too sore."
He rolls his eyes, pushing up the sleeve of my blazer. Though I fight him off, he persists, getting the stupid thing all the way up to my elbow. Not many of the cuts are visible, but he can see too many for me to be able to make an excuse for.
"Explain."
I pull my arm away, rushing towards the door. He's running after me and I know he won't stop until I tell him something. "Holden, no. There's nothing to explain."
"How did it happen?"
"It didn't. You're just imagining things."
He follows me out onto the sidewalk, the wind strong even as the hot sun continues to beat down. I hold my hand out for a taxi, but they rarely pick up in this area. Holden is waiting for an answer that he's never going to get.
"If you want me to train with you, then stay out of my business, Holden. Don't ask questions and the favor will be returned, got it?"
I watch as he nods, his face a blank mask. My arm is still outstretched, waving around wildly to get the attention of a taxi. I've now been out here for at least five minutes and one still hasn't shown up. Holden went back inside, I think. I can't hear him behind me, and frankly, I don't care. I need to get home and get ready for date night or things will just be a repeat of last night.
Beads of sweat begin forming on my forehead as I wait for a cab. It might be easier to just walk. When I take the first step to start walking home, I hear shuffling from behind me.
His thick accent reaches out, "Come on, Smalls. I'm driving you home."