Page 161 of Gym Bros
Once they’re gone, Calyx looks up at me, and something twists in my gut. Not in a good way, but maybe I’m nervous that he’s here. What if he’s made some decision about me I don’t want to hear now that he’s seen what I do? “You all right?” I ask.
He nods. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I told you I would be. Is there something else? Somethingabout the fight? Or my dad?” I’m reaching, but I need to understand why I feel so off balance all of a sudden.
“I just wasn’t expecting him,” he whispers. He steps in finally and puts his arms around me. I return the embrace and kiss his neck almost automatically. “This was a lot,” he adds.
“Thank you for coming,” I tell him, holding him tight.
“I love you,” he says with so much emotion powering the words I have to pull away and check on him again.
“You sure you’re okay?”
His smile is faint, and his gaze is soft. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“You knew I would be though, right?”
He nods.
“Good.”
“Are you allowed to leave?” he asks.
“I have to stick around for my other teammates to fight, and then I have dinner with my dad, but I understand if you don’t wanna come. I want you to, though. I’ll make him promise not to bring up business.”
“You can’t…Samuel…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, touching his face lightly. His eyes flutter closed a moment, and then he’s looking up at me again. So fucking beautiful. “We’ll get together afterwards. Okay? Just us.”
He nods.
“I’mfine,” I tell him because he still looks pale, and I can’t for the life of me read his mind right now. It’s usually way easier, but again, adrenaline. Half my brain is still in the octagon.
“I know,” he says, running his hands down my arms, sweat and all, before taking a step away from me. “I know. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Calyx?” I say as he’s turning to leave.
“Mm?”
“I love you, too.”
He flashes me a small smile over his shoulder and goes.
“Mitchell’s heading out,” Jim says from outside the door.
“On my way,” I tell him, grabbing another towel before leaving the warmup room to join my teammates and watch the next fight. I look around for my dad, but don’t see him.
My team greets me with slaps on the back and fist bumps when I rejoin the group from our gym. It’s the warmest reception I’ve ever gotten, and I’m all smiles. Our fighters win every match, and we get swarmed afterward. I’m shooed away by one of the coaches who doesn’t want me to talk to any of the fight promoters yet, and I’ll admit to being slightly miffed about it. Maybe more than slightly.
It’s not like I set this fight up on my own—the coaches did, but I’ll be pissed if I have to go six months without a fight because they’re focused on their older guys.
I have to remind myself I’m new here. It’s fair that they don’t trust me not to act like a tool. It’s in my best interest and my career’s best interest to shut my mouth and do as I’m told.
It’s frustrating, but I’m likely to get ahead quicker this way even if it is difficult for me to trust that anyone has my best interest in mind better than I do.
I have a text from my dad letting me know he’s still in the lobby, so I pack up my gear and meet him out front.
I can’t really describe the smile he’s giving me when I find him. It’s not one I’m familiar with. Maybe pride? But there’s curiosity there, too. Like I surprised him. “What do you want to eat?” he asks.
