× Horan
It wasn't hard to find Lynn. Not because I knew where she would go, but because I happened to walk past the fitness center and see the lights on. It was passed midnight, the gym hours long after closed, and I knew that Lynn had to be inside.
Coach had provided everyone on the football team a spare key to the building in hopes we would use the fitness center more, any hour of the day. And I knew for a fact that anyone sane wouldn't waste their time of sleeping to pump iron... except for Lynn of course.
Standing inside the entryway, I watched her through the glass windows as she kicked a punching bag, tape wrapped around her knuckles and sweat clinging to her hairline. She had stripped down to only her jeans and a camisole. Her coat, button down shirt and other belongings she had with her lay in a heap on the floor. Not every light was on in the room, but one glowed down on her like a yellow spotlight.
Reece and brought me home and I told him what happened at the party the best I could without giving away my true feelings toward her. He had told me that I just needed to apologize and things would be fine, but I knew it would take more than that to make it up to Lynn. She deserved more than a flimsy I'm sorry... however, it was a start. But at that moment I just needed a change of clothes and a good walk around the halls. It was truly fate that brought me to the same place Lynn would be.
I stepped into the room, the only sound coming from the nylon of the bag as Lynn took hit after hit. It came to a surprise to me that she even boxed at all, but the more I thought about it, it made sense. It may not be visible to the naked eye, but Lynn held a lot of built up anger inside her blood, and there had to be a way to release that somehow.
As I walked closer, her punches increased in strength and I knew she had spotted me.
"I told you to leave me alone," she said between clenched teeth. "Surly you're not ready to talk yet."
I didn't say anything, instead just watched her place hits like the punching bag personally insulted her. Her hits were quick and fluid, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the waistband of her jeans was digging into her hips. The tape wrapped around her knuckles was red with fresh blood and her eyes never left the large white X on the bag.
"You're not centered," I observed, watching her stance carefully.
Lynn's eyes shot to me, her shoulders were stressed and her spine was tense. "What?"
When I stepped toward her, she stepped back, the two of us repelling like a pair of like poles. "You have more weight on your right foot when it should be evenly divided," I explained. "You'd have more mobility if you're centered."
"I'm not a professional," she snapped, but I noticed the shift of her weight nevertheless.
Professional or not, Lynn knew what she was doing. 1-2-1-2, 1-2-5-2. Jab right hand, jab left hand. She was throwing hard, no doubt bruising her knuckles despite the tape. She didn't seem fazed that I was watching her from the sidelines - a sign of concentration or a blunt clue to leave her alone.
I probably should have taken her hint and left, leaving her to cool herself down before I even attempt to talk to her about what happened. But I knew there wasn't a chance I'd be getting an ounce of sleep if I don't give her my side of the story - even if it won't validate anything. But she wasn't giving me any emotion and I was willing to go about it anyway I could to get a reaction out of her; good or bad.
"Is jabbing all you know how to do?" I asked as she planted another hit to the bag.
Lynn didn't miss a beat. "Take a few steps closer, maybe you'll find out."
It was meant to be an empty threat, another snide remark to remind me that she was pissed. But something deep inside me wished she would follow through with it. It would break down her barricades and skip the hard part and go straight to the thing that mattered most.
"You want to hit me?" I asked, stepping closer to her. "Fine. Hit me. I deserve it, anyways."
Lynn's hands curled into fists, the tape stretching against her knuckles. Heat rose to her cheeks in irritation as I waited for her advance on me. But I knew that some part of her still couldn't move. No matter how much she might think she hates me, she would never throw a punch.
The facts remained the facts - taking a swing opened up her defenses. Taking a swing exposed her. To take a swing was to take a risk and I knew Lynn was absolutely petrified by the idea of risk-taking. She was powerless.
"Lynn, I'm sorry," I finally said, stepping even closer.
I watched her closely, waiting for her response. As I was hoping, I saw her eyes dilate.
One minute Lynn was standing only a few feet away, hair a mess and sweat dripping down her forehead. And in the next, she swung. Just as fast as she moved, my fist locked around her forearm to stop her advance. I held her there, looking straight at her and I knew her desire to hit me grew stronger as the seconds passed.
"What happened tonight?" she asked. "With Abby... with me?"
I didn't answer.
My hands were up, which left no defense on my gut, so she shot her knee upwards. I moved one arm to block, abandoning my lock on her forearm. She threw a kick in my direction and I easily blocked it. Lynn's breath caught, either with anger or excitement, I couldn't tell which.
"Where you feeling weak?" she pressed, her voice short and edgy. "Were you locking into your male role and needed to find your dominance?"
The artificial light above us felt dim and hazy against the pure, sharp slivers of the moonlight that cut through the windows. Lynn kept her shoulders loose with a bounce, kept her fists ready with a shake.
"Or were you feeling vulnerable? Was this your mechanism of avoiding feelings like you once told me? Did someone hurt you?"
I could practically hear her pulse - feel her eyes on me as she watched my every move, just as I watched hers. She was like a ticking bomb, any moment she might explode and I had to be ready.
Swing.
I saw it coming, so when she pounced, I was ready. I dodged, grabbed, and locked her elbow in place as I spun her around. Her shoulders tensed, trying to wriggle her way out, but I had her pinned against me.
It was with a great deal of satisfaction and a racing heart that I brought my lips to her ear and whispered, "I'm not letting you go until you tell me why you kissed Harry Styles tonight."
She didn't answer. Instead, she laughed. It was hollow and bitter and anything but contagious. It sounded like a super villain after they explained their devious plan to take over the world. Except this laugh was laced with hurt and pure anger.
"Is that why you were in the bedroom with Abby?" she sneered. "To get back at me?"
"It wasn't revenge."
I let go of her, knowing there was a better way to go about this. The moment I removed my arms from around her, she spun around and rolled her shoulders back into that same defensive stance.
"Then what the hell was it? Tell me what's going on, Niall."
"I was-" I started only to pause.
I wasn't sure there was a way to explain my actions without telling her my new found discovery of my feelings for her. And telling her that I loved her now was definitely not a good idea.
So alternately, I settled on something worse. "I can't tell you."
"You can't tell me?" she nearly shrieked. "You manipulated me into feeling like shit and you can't even tell me why!?"
There wasn't a twitch of her fingers, or a gleam in her eye when Lynn's fist came for me this time. The sudden sting to my jaw and the taste of copper on my tongue told me she had gotten her hit.
I reeled back slightly, my hand against the burn on my face, and looked at Lynn. She stood tall and unwavering as she clenched and unclenched her fist in front of her. I expected myself to be mad - I didn't actually expect her to hit me. But the opposite was true; I wish she would do it again.
"This is just one of your games, isn't it?" she gritted out. "Everything that happened in California was just a ruse. None of it was really you."
I removed my hand from my face. "What the hell makes you think that?"
The next thing I knew she threw a kick at me. But this time I was ready and dogged the blow. Then she lunged. I ducked. One right after the other, Lynn channeled her entire defense into her words, leaving only offense in her actions.
"Because" - swing - "that's who" - kick - "you" - punch - "are!"
She stopped punching and stepped back, breathing heavy. Her reaction was startling. I've seen her upset and crying; cool, calm, and in control of herself and everyone around her. Whatever this was - whatever she was doing now - it wasn't her usual self. This was what her true defenses looked like.
"I don't think you're a bad person, Niall," she said through bated breath. "But I saw a very different side to you tonight."
I watched her expression, and as usual, she didn't give much away. We were facing each other. It was my heartbeat I heard above our breaths.
"Did I really hurt you?" she finally asked. "Back at the party?"
"What would you say if I told you that were true?"
She looked at me; really looked at me, and I could only hope she could see how sorry I was for my actions. The fight inside her seemed to burn out, but it melted away her shield and I could easily see the broken fragments of her confidence through the blues of her eyes.
"I get that you've been hurt before, but you don't understand the pain of being used and manipulated," she said softly. "It leaves mental and physical scars, Niall. Once is traumatizing enough, twice is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."
"I'm so sorry, Lynn."
"I appreciate you saying that, but it doesn't make it okay. You could lie or tell the truth, but no vindication can justify what you did. My trust in you..."
She didn't need to finish that sentence. Her trust in me could be compleatly broken into pieces or slightly cracked; it didn't matter. I tried to make her feel bad for kissing someone who wasn't me, and that was all kinds of fucked up. Losing Lynn's trust wasn't something I could let happen; I'd do anything in my power to gain it back again.
Lynn's hands where still up in defense, but before she could gather what was happening, she started to fall.
Or, more accurately, I had knocked her legs out from under her. It was evident from her expression that she didn't expect me to attack. Her eyes were wide and mouth slightly open in shock, but I made sure to give her space so I didn't pin her to the ground like I might have in an actual fight. Instead, I sat down beside her.
"I never know how you're going to act around me," she confessed softly. "You might be caring, or you might be cruel. What happened to the Niall that was in California?"
Those cerulean-glass eyes rimmed with thick, long, lashes bore into me. Emotions danced like fire in her eyes, the fire dwindling down to smoldering ember and even though everything I had been through with Lynn, I couldn't tell what emotions were soaring just beyond those walls.
"Things are changing," I told her, but the words were weak.
"What do you mean?"
I paused, theorizing what to say until I realized that was my problem from the beginning - I thought too much.
"I'm petrified, Lynn," I finally admitted, the pain along my jaw long forgotten. "I'm scared out of my bloody mind at how much things have changed and how fast they are changing. With you, with me... with us. I've told you things I've never told anyone before. I've done things that I've never even wanted to do before you. You made me question science on multiple occasions that I don't know what to think anymore. You're just a fucking mystery to me, Lynn, it's unreal."
Lynn sat up and looked at her hands. The blood on her taped knuckles was drying, but it left red stains on her fingers when she touched them.
"You say I'm a mystery when in reality, you're the one who's keeping secrets," Lynn spoke. "I know nothing about you, Niall."
"You know enough about me."
"What happened with your dad? What's the deal with that Alina girl? What happened with your knee? Why do you really sleep with a nightlight? I feel like I don't know you at all."
"Really? I just told you that you knew more about me than anyone else, and you're still looking for more?"
She didn't say anything. Knowing what she did know wasn't enough for her, and I knew that. I had a lot of secrets bottled up in inside me and Lynn was willing to listen. Lynn may not have any trust in me anymore, but maybe it was time to make a change and let those secrets out to the one person I could trust. I had to start somewhere, and telling her everything she wanted to know was a little sacrifice compared to the bigger picture.
"I just... after tonight, I'm not sure I really know who you are, Niall," she confessed softly. "I don't want to pressure you into telling me these things, but I do want you to know that you can tell me. I wasn't lying earlier when I said you could talk to me."
Her hair fell around her shoulders and she looked at me nervously. We sat on the fitness center floor, staring at each other. I knew she was waiting for me to open up, but instead I asked a question.
"What got you into boxing?"
She hesitated for a moment. "My parent's death," she said. "It was a way of coping, I guess. I was an angry teenager."
I imagined Lynn three years ago, long before I had met her, and pictured her at a gym, punching the shit out of a bag. I saw her grunting with everything she had, fuming and pissed at the world. It wasn't a very hard image to conjure up. She had every right to be an angry teenager, I suppose. Her parents were taken away from her way too soon, during the time of her life where she needed them most.
"What about you? You seem like you know what you're doing," she asked with a smirk.
I crossed my legs and ran a hand through my hair. "My dad got me into boxing, actually," I admitted, making Lynn raise her eyebrows at the mention of my dad. "My parents divorced when I was six, but I lived with my mum most of the time. Whenever I visited my dad, he trained me like the pros."
Lynn sat in front of me, one leg out in front of her and the other bent and tucked up to her chest. She looked so frail and strong at the same time.
"Apparently I was good at it, too, because my dad signed me up for competitions," I continued. "The only problem was that he was placing bets on me... behind my back. I was fourteen when I had my first match, and I didn't know about the bets until I was seventeen. I was getting the shit beat out of me, killing myself every time I got into the ring, and he was on the sidelines collecting the money with a greedy smirk. It went on for three years and I had no idea."
I slid my leg out and exposed my knee, the fading sliver of a scar showing through the rip in my jeans. "I didn't need surgery on my knee because of football like my mum thinks. I needed it because Dad worked me too hard. I was seventeen when the fracture happened, and when I confronted my dad that I was done with boxing."
Lynn reached out with a finger and gently traced my scar. Her touch was soft and gentle, a contradictory from the ugly mess around her bloody taped knuckles.
"My doctor advised me not to play football after the surgery, but I clearly didn't listen."
Lynn smiled. "I guess we're both stubborn."
I laughed, knowing that was exactly what her doctor told her to do with her ankle, but like me, didn't listen. To us, football flowed in our veins. We weren't going to let a surgery, or an ankle accident stop us from achieving what we wanted.
"I am sorry about tonight, in that bedroom," I said, breaking through the light atmosphere.
"I know you are."
I watched her carefully as she played with the tape around her hands. Then her fingers trailed down and her thumb rubbed against the thin skin on her wrist. The scars from the zip ties Bradley used on her seemed to glow under the soft lighting above.
"Did I hurt you when I pushed you into the tub?" she asked. "After I left I realized that maybe that wasn't such a smart thing to do."
I shrugged half heartedly. "I might have a bruised arse in the morning, but it's nothing I didn't deserve. I needed that literal splash of reality to wake me up."
Lynn removed the tape from her knuckles slowly, careful not to make the bloody damage any worse. The sight of the mess made my jaw throb with pain again. She moved her fingers around, testing the joints in her hand before looking up at me.
"I take it you're not going to tell me the reason why you were so cruel tonight."
The real reason? What, that I was jealous? That I was utterly pissed that she kissed Harry Styles instead of me on New Year's? That she unknowingly broke my heart in half because of it? That I was unbelievably bitter for absolutely no reason at all? Hell yeah, I wasn't going to tell her that.
She signed, taking the silence as my answer. "Fine," she said. "Figure it out; sort through your thoughts. I need space from you anyways. I just hope you eventually tell me why."
And I would, just not tonight.