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As he leaves, grumbling, I slump onto the couch, my headache gradually subsiding. My mind drifts back to Tyley and the intensity that sparked between us. The pleasant line of thoughts are rudely interrupted by a chime of my phone and then another and another. People are sending me the same link all at once.
With a sigh, I click on the link. I'm not excited about seeing what all the commotion is about, as bad news usually travels faster than good, but it's better knowing. Much to my chagrin, Adam's mug is the first thing I see, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"I don't get why everyone's so obsessed with Grayson Walker," Adam sneers into the camera. "He's all talk and no action. I've been calling him out for years, and he's too scared to step into the cage with me. He's nothing but a coward."
The comments on the video are a mix of support and criticism, as fans and haters alike weigh in on the situation. It's clear this feud between Adam and me is gaining traction, even though I already kicked his ass last night.
“He stole my girl, that fucking backstabber,” Adam carries on as if we were friends at some point. “And now he’s trotting around town like a goddamned peacock, showing off his so-called love life. Well, let me tell you, Grayson, if you think you can hide behind a woman and avoid me, you've got another thing coming."
Frustration is making my head throb, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of a blunt, unplanned response. No. I'm going to kick his ass again, this time in the one place he can't claim was rigged against him, but not before thinking my strategy through.
five
Tyley
I started my workout session two hours ago with some warm-up stretches and then moved on to cardio, but that's not going to be nearly enough today.
What I need is to push my limits, to use exercise to clear my mind, and to get Grayson Walker out of my every waking thought.
The gym is buzzing with activity; sounds of weights clanking and feet landing on the treadmills fill the air. Sweat drips down my face as I deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to the punching bag.
My muscles are beginning to ache, but I push through, determined to exhaust myself physically so that maybe, just maybe, my mind will follow suit.
"Need a spot?"
A familiar voice interrupts the rhythm I've achieved, and I turn, eyes opening wide as I see Grayson's tall, muscular frame leaning casually against the wall, those icy blue eyes fixed on me.
I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and shake my head. "I'm good."
He nods, his eyes lingering on my sweaty figure, and I can't help but feel self-conscious. I'm not usually one to care about appearances, but I didn't expect to be caught off guard by this maddeningly hot superstar, either. My hair is tied up in a messy bun, my face flushed with exertion, and my gym clothes cling to my body. Not exactly my sexiest moment. This isn't a posing-for-Instagram workout, and I feel like I just got caught with my pants down.
Grayson, of course, looks like a million bucks in his tailored workout gear. It's as if he stepped off the cover of a fitness magazine and into the gym, making everyone else look like amateurs.
Every muscle in his body is defined and chiseled, from the broadness of his chest to the rippling abs that are noticeable through his fitted white sleeveless t-shirt. There's no doubt that he's a force to be reckoned with in the cage, but his physique is just as intimidating outside of it. He's built like a Greek god, with wide shoulders and strong arms that command attention and so much more.
The fact that he has swagger for days and a smile capable of lighting this entire place for the next ten years is only the cherry on top of the proverbial Sundae.
God, I want him, and there's not a damn thing I can do to ignore that fact.
"Are you stalking me now?" I ask, trying to shake off the fluttering in my stomach. I suddenly feel like a silly teenager dealing with her first puppy love.
Grayson smirks and pushes himself off the wall, sauntering over to me.
"Stalking? Hardly. I just asked around and figured I would pay you a visit. You didn't tell me you were an amateur MMA fighter last night."
"I just train, that's all."
"I never understood why people feel the need to engage in this fake modesty dance. Just be straight with me, Tyley. Is this just your way of keeping that perky little body of yours firm and taut? Or do you actually have aspirations to step into the cage?"
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out if there can be more here than a little bantering and a few nights of sexy fun.
"What is it to you?" I ask, at last, more defensive than his question probably merits. "You waltz in here like you own the place and start asking questions like I didn't make it known that I had no interest in dating you last night. What do you want?”
"There's something I need to discuss with you. I can wait while you finish your workout and then buy you a cup of coffee."
I consider his offer for a moment, torn between my desire to continue avoiding Grayson and my curiosity about what he wants to discuss. Ultimately, my curiosity wins out.
"You can talk, but there's no need to go for coffee. I'm listening."
