Page 2 of Hooks In

“Come on, man. Let it go,” he says, gesturing with his head for me to exit the cage, where the rest of the guys from my gym are waiting.

I glance back at Luca, and he chuckles with a fucking smile. He then turns and leaves the cage.

I seriously hate that guy.

But I won. And if I can get out of here, and go train with Max in his gym, I’ll never have to see him again.

Leaving that bastard behind will be the best feeling of all.

TWO

“Fuck!”

I slam the door to my dressing room and rip my gloves off.

“Easy, man, it was close-”

I whirl around to face Drew. “Exactly, it was so fucking close!” I blow out a breath and shake my head. “If I didn’t block his lazy ass punch to my face, I could have got him off me. I could have taken that hit and been fine.” I throw my gloves against the wall and run my hands through my hair.

Drew pushes my shoulder to get to me to sit on the bench and brings a wet rag to my face. He remains quiet, as usual, as he cleans the blood from a cut on my forehead. In the fourteen years he’s been my coach, he’s come to know me a bit too well. He’s always said that even from day one, as a twelve-year-old in kickboxing, I was a “little shit”, and he knew not to feed into my “attitude”.

I give him the stink eye as he continues to silently clean my face. I mean, yeah, smart man… I wouldn’t want to listen to me either. But also… rude. I think I deserve at least an “I know man!” Or a “Yeah, fuck him!”

“Now he’s first in rankings,” I murmur as I wince from the sting of whatever he’s pressing against my face. I can feel the swelling, and I know a black eye is forming.

“It’s just ice, hold this,” Drew says, and I lift my hand to hold the ice pack to the side of my face. “It’s one fight, you’ll get the-”

“The next one?” I ask. “No, there won’t be a next one with him. Max Fairburn is here, did you forget that?” I stare at him, and he just stares back at me. I sigh. “Sorry, dude. I’m just pretty fucking pissed off…”

“I get it. I would be too.” Drew sits on the chair across from me. “Nothing you can do about it now though.”

I glare at him. “Gee, thanks. Such support.”

He shrugs and throws a towel at me. “I’m not going to baby you. Brush it off and do better next time. You know what went wrong, so don’t let it happen again.” He stands and gestures to my bag beside me. “Now get changed and meet us out there, we’re going to go drink when we get back to Warsaw.”

“Sounds perfect,” I mumble, as I wipe the towel over my damp hair. Even though the smarter choice would be to just go home to an ice bath and sleep, a beer sounds fucking delightful right about now.

He closes the door as he heads into the hallway, and I tip my head back against the cold concrete wall. Motherfucking Ty Roscoe. That piece of shit. I had him. I was number one, and one stupid mistake let him take it from me. And now, he’ll likely be chosen by Max for the spot at his new training gym in St. Louis.

“Argh!” I throw the ice pack and watch it slide across the floor, slamming into the wall. But then I go pick it up with a sigh. The ice pack didn’t fuck up, it doesn’t deserve that.

I grab a quick shower and pull on my clothes, avoiding the mirror. It’s only going to get worse… No sense in looking at the damage now. As I leave the room, I spot the guys from my gym at the end of the hallway and make my way towards them. Some of them fought earlier tonight and I’m sure, just like I am, they’re all ready to get out of here and make the drive home. But as I get closer, I notice they’re chatting with some other guys… from Ty’s gym.

“Hey, Luca, nice job,” one of them says with a smile, and I hate that it’s genuine. I’d like to hate these guys as much as I hate Ty, but they’ve always been nice to me. It would be easier if they weren’t, as I just can’t be mean for the sake of being mean. I tried, but it felt gross.

“Thanks, man,” I say as he reaches out to smack my outstretched hand.

“You guys fighting in Camden next month?” Mark, from my gym, asks them.

I turn my head to glare at him. Not even an hour post loss, and we’re already bringing up a fight that I’m not supposed to be fighting in. Because I should be heading to St. Louis. Well, guess now I will be in Camden…

I glance towards the empty octagon in the middle of the arena, and watch as the last of the spectators leave. The guys all continue chatting about the fight next month, and I’m trying real hard not to get too salty about it.

But the anger is bubbling, as it all settles. I lost. I won’t be going to St. Louis. And who knows when I’ll have another opportunity like this again. I watch as everyone smiles and chats like they don’t have a care in the world, and I find myself scowling at one of the guys from Ty’s gym. He gives me a weird half smile before quickly looking away from me, and then I immediately feel bad. I’m being a dick. I’m hardcore in my feels right now, but they didn’t put me here. Their asshole friend did. Which means I hate that they are friends with him because they are really nice. Fuck, this is confusing.

A door opens down the hall, and I turn my head to see Ty step out of it.

I keep watching him as he makes his way towards us, and he glares at me the whole way. So, I smile at him. But not a friendly smile. Oh, no, he never gets those. It’s an I know how to fuck with you smile that I crafted just for him. And it works, as it pisses him off 100% of the time.

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