Page 33 of The Venom We Bleed

“Running away?”

I stiffen at Gio’s provoking tone. With a careful expression, I look back at him. “There’s nothing for me to run from,” I say.

“So, you’re not scared of getting your ass beat?” he asks with a laugh. “Good for you ‘cause what I hear is that it’s coming for you soon at school.”

“Vargas—” Cory’s tone is a warning.

Outside, I’m nothing but calm. Inside though? Inside, I’m fucking boiling. “You think I can’t beat you?” I ask, stepping up to the edge of the ring and tilting my head back even further.

He chuckles. “What do you weigh? I’d bet anything it’s little more than a buck fifty.”

“You just said you bench two-eighty,” I reply. “So I thought weight class didn’t matter.”

He whistles. “So I did.”

I sense Cory’s presence before I feel his hand land on my shoulder. “He’s just bored, girl,” he says. “Don’t let him rile you up.”

Too late for that. “I’m already riled.”

Playboy looks far too happy at my words and he rips himself away from the ropes, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet as he holds one palm out towards me, face up, and curls his fingers. “Come on then,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

“Got any extra pads?” I ask Cory without looking at him.

His low sigh is my only answer, but a few minutes later, I’m strapped up and ducking under the ropes to take my place onthe fighting mat in the middle of the ring. I crack my neck one way and then another, hating how tight the headgear is on me, but then again, it’s meant more for kids since none of the men’s headgear would fit me.

“I want a clean sparring match,” Cory says, directing his voice out over the gym as he stands back and crosses his arms.

“I won’t go too hard on her, Cory,” Gio replies.

I grin.

Cory sighs again. “I wasn’t saying that just to you.”

Gio frowns, but it’s too late. The bell rings. The match begins. I dive forward and perform a quick series of jabs—relying on muscle memory to pound them out. For the last few months, while everyone else had been having a great old last summer before senior year, I’d been training for my fucking life. So, I know … no one actually expects me to do well. Least of all a cocky asshole from Silverwood Public.

My first hit lands, but Gio’s training kicks in for my second and he proves that he’s no slouch either. He manages to dodge the following jabs and even make a few himself. I rear back and the two of us circle one another. Sweat coats my skin beneath my t-shirt, but I remain focused. My breaths come fast and hard, rocketing up my throat as we bob and weave across the mat.

Now that he’s learned I’m not a slacker, Gio’s face turns serious. Cory’s eyes linger on me, his brow creased with concern, but I’m not going to let that bother me now. Playboy here was the one who wanted this fight and who am I to turn down a gift punching bag? It’s better to get my anger out here and now than explode in school and risk another suspension.

“I gotta say, Pipsqueak,” Gio calls. “Even if you need some more power behind your punches, you got speed on your side.”

“I thought I was Prep Girl?” I snap. “Do you give everyone you meet a hundred different nicknames?”

He laughs. “Just trying to find the right one,” he replies. “I’ll let you know when it hits.”

“Don’t bother—fuck!” I shoot out of the way as he makes a dive for me and just when I think I’m clear, his hands wrap around my waist and lift me up.

I brace for impact, but all of the air in my lungs rushes out the moment my spine connects with the mat and his body moves over mine. “Maybe I should call you”—he pants—“Distracted Girl.”

Bringing both my forearms up to cover my face, I wait for blows to land, but there’s nothing. Uncertain, I peek out to see him grinning down at me. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” I snap, bucking against him.

His body lifts up slightly and then he readjusts and pins me back to the mat, coming back down harder than before. “Don’t be so quick to anger,” he says. “It'll do you no good in a fight.”

“I can handle myself!” I bow against him, and unfortunately, despite my words, I’m proving myself wrong by being unable to break his hold.

“You telegraph your moves, you know,” he comments lightly.

“Yeah, I been telling her to watch for that,” Cory pipes in.

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