What was I thinking? That he will be my prince charming? My life is not a movie. I rush to the nearest trashcan and dump the hairclip and bracelets inside. He couldn’t even apologize to my face. I will never be good enough for him to put a label on this thing between us, so why bother trying?

Fifty-Two

My phone rings.I press a pillow to my face, screaming my frustrations into it. It’s time to train. Ben has a match tomorrow, and I promised to help him prepare. I fought his opponent once. The boy beat the shit out of me, but I lasted both rounds. If he wasn’t so muscled, I might have won.

The urge to answer the call and turn Ben down is strong, but I left him at school with a silly excuse I can’t remember now. He had to hitch a ride with Nate. Was he able to pick Asher early?No, stop.I shouldn’t care about them. They are none of my business. I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to be Ben’s partner. I don’t want to be anything to him. We are wrong for each other.

My phone buzzes again. I fling the pillow, and it crashes into something. I don’t bother to inspect the damage I might have caused as I kick the cover off me. I will save both of us the hurt and break this before things get too far. I pick up the phone and hesitate at Ben’s text. He wants to know if I’ll be joining him at the gym. I suck it up, type a quick reply, and change into a better outfit.

I told Ben I liked him to his face and should be bold enough to break up with him the same way. I grab my keys from my dresser and make the short drive to the old gym on his street. I practice in Hayden’s room, except Coach demands my presence. My parents are barely at home to notice.

The car slows to a stop behind Ben’s bike, and I take a minute to gather my wits. This is it. The floor is wet with light rain, and the chilly air stings my exposed skin. I jump over a broken fence and find my way inside. I can always pass the other accessible entrance, but this route is shorter. Besides, this is not a gym I’ll recommend to anyone, but Ben prefers it. Who am I to object?

It is not dark, but I turn on my phone’s flashlight to light up my path. Water leaks from the gaps in the roof, light seeps in through the cracks in the wall, and I almost stumble on a discarded brick. The place is under renovation, but Ben insists it’s safe. The men who work out here seem to share his confidence. In a few more strides, the glass doors come into view. Two men are in the ring, with the smaller one showing the bigger one some blocking techniques. Ben needs to learn that.

I spot the heartbreaker by a red punching bag. Ben’s bandaged hands hover over his phone, possibly to ring me again. On cue, my phone vibrates in my shorts. I end the call, and he punches the bag in frustration. I smother a laugh and push the door open. The men lifting weights at a corner stop briefly to leer at me, and I quicken my pace. I’m wearing nothing revealing, as usual. Only this time, I opted for shorts instead of my sweatpants. Shorts that are way past my knees.

Ben growls at them.

“Easy, Kiddo. She is pretty, that’s all,” one of them says, the one on the bench with a beer belly. He is new. I didn’t see him last time. Ben nears me, and the man winks. “How ya doing, Miss?”

The man’s eyes gleam with mischief as he notices Ben’s glare. I grin to annoy Ben. He can’t be mad if we are not in a relationship. Ben pushes me behind him, and the whole gym erupts in laughter. The naughty man and his partner resume lifting. Ben drags me to a quiet corner. Our only source of light is the overhead window and a fluorescent bulb dangling from the ceiling.

“Don’t smile at people you don’t know, babe,” he mutters through gritted teeth. I pout. I like jealous Ben and the way his lips pucker. Crap. He grabs my shoulders. “Gracie, I’m serious.”

“Hmm,” is all I say.

My eyes return to Ben’s mouth, and I gulp. We didn’t kiss today. I miss his lips.

Tension rolls off him in thick, troubling waves. His shoulders sag, and he draws me in for a much-needed hug. “Gracie,” he says into my hair, planting wet kisses all over my face. “I missed you.”

We were only apart for less than twelve hours, but it feels longer than that. This will be tough. I didn’t eat lunch with him either. I made sure to avoid the cafeteria. He palms my face, and I manage to relax.

“You came.”

“You called,” I reply.

His eyes soften, and my heart skips. “I was thinking you wouldn’t,” he admits.

Me too. But I am here for a reason. The switch in my head flips at that reminder, and I pry Ben’s hands off my face. We notice the shift in the atmosphere, but we don’t mention it. His hopeful eyes stop me from telling him the real reason for my presence. I can tell him after we practice.

“Let’s get started,” I say to the floor. How do I break up if I can’t look Ben in the eyes? He is calm, too silent as we move to stand in front of the punching bag. I motion to his hands. “Let me see.”

He stretches his arms for me to inspect the bandage. Good.

“Do I need gloves?” he asks.

His seriousness is cute. No, hot. And something is wrong with me for letting my mind stray from our current discussion. What were we talking about? Ah, gloves.

“Those are fine. We need to work on your block, punch and kick combo. Jack likes to go one and two. One, two, three,” I say and demonstrate, punching the bag in quick succession with a kick to explain my point. “Like that.”

My foot returns to the floor after another kick, but I continue bouncing on my toes. Coach says it helps to keep me alert, and Jack, Ben’s opponent for Saturday, is always alert. I create space for Ben to repeat the moves, and my cheeks grow hot under his gaze. He is openly ogling me. Jesus.

“Your turn, Ben. Stop staring at me like that.”

“Fuck, Gracie. You looked so sexy doing that.” He supports his words with a chaste kiss on my lips, and my brain blanks. Ben thinks I am sexy. My mouth opens and closes as he recreates my moves, throwing in a little kick of his own. He flashes me a grin. “So, how did I do, Coach?”

I shake my head to clear the cobwebs growing in my brain. I don’t think I can do this. “Good.”