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My convo with Bree still echoes in my mind, and the thought of Ty refusing to give me the interview makes me anxious that Mom's assumption that I won't graduate will actually end up being true.
"Where’s Dawson?" I ask, scanning the venue.
“Upstairs in his office.” He reads my mind, adding, "Ty said you kicked ass in class last week. You should really try circuit training."
"Interviews," I repeat. Why the hell was Ty talking about me, anyway? He’s avoided me every time I’ve spotted him at the gym. Remember, Blaire, you don't care.
Scott boomerangs one of the hats in my direction. He grins at me when I catch it mid-air.
“Good instincts,” he says. “By the way, the guy you’re really looking for isn’t here. He’s filming a promotional video in San Francisco for the Eoghan Doherty fight.”
I shrug off his remark and pretend to check my phone. My cheeks are so hot, I feel like I just got caught masturbating in a church.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“He’ll be here in a couple of hours. I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” Scott shakes his head and resumes stocking the baseball caps.
“Whatever, I’m going to see Dawson.” I wave my hand at him impatiently and leave.
Dawson makes time for me, even though I dropped by unannounced. I guess that's what you do when you're passionate about your job.
“You got pretty cool stuff for your article by now, don’t you, Blaire?” He jerks his chin toward my laptop as I type away at some notes in his office.
I nod eagerly, still looking at my screen. “Yeah, actually, the only person I’ve yet to interview here is Ty.”
“You gotta speak to him. He’ll be fighting Doherty on June 13th in Vegas. It’s a huge deal. If he wins, he might get a shot at the championship belt.”
I stop typing and my head shoots up. “He’s not very cooperative.”
“He’s got his issues.” Dawson doesn’t sound the least apologetic about Ty’s behavior. “His life’s a bit of a mess. He’ll talk to you eventually.”
“He’s having a hard time dealing with something?” I ask, trying to dig for some info about Ty’s life.
Dawson smirks at me and tosses the weekly class schedule into my lap to let me know this discussion is over. “Ty rolls with the punches.”
I’m ready to shut down my computer and head back home, but I decide the schedule is a sign. I could use to let off some steam.
Circuit training is the perfect outlet. The class is taught by a guy named Angel. It's intense but has nothing to do with MMA, just a hell lot of aerobic exercises, and I end up dog-tired. After I sweat my own body weight, I opt for a quick shower before heading back home. I crawl into the girls’ locker room and peel off my damp clothes. There’s an LED TV mounted on the wall in front of the mirrors, and it’s showing an old bout Ty participated in with a guy named Jason Monrose that I‘ve already watched. (Ty won by submission.)
I step into the shower and turn the faucet on all the way, making sure the water is steaming hot. I stand beneath the stream, dropping my head backwards and enjoying the water against my bruised skin. It’s easy to get lost in thought when you’re in a hot shower.
The water is comforting against my skin, and my mind drifts to my favorite guy in the whole world: Charlie Hunnam. I wish Jax Teller were here to sponge my back. I allow myself to get lost in this fantasy momentarily when Ty's stupid face floats into my thoughts. Sneaky bastard.
Get. Out. Of. Here.
My body is my temple and my temple only accepts blond British dudes who ride Harleys.
But I still can't believe he's banged someone else the day before he almost kissed me...
Right, I promised myself I'm not going there. Shush, Blaire. Change the subject.
I resort to singing in an attempt to drown my thoughts. I start humming “Blank Space” (the I Prevail version, of course), murdering the song cold-heartedly, missing every single note possible, as loud as I possibly can for distraction. Every windshield in the gym parking lot is about to explode into a million pieces. Wolves are howling their agony at the sound. And I continue, undeterred.
I roar the lyrics, shutting off the water and enveloping myself in one of the complimentary towels. I wipe the water drops from my face and peek around the plastic curtain separating the shower stall from the locker room.
Bang! My jaw drops to the damp concrete floor.
Beyond the mist awaits Ty, and he is leaning against the wall, between me and the locker where my clothes reside. His arms folded on his chest, a huge grin on his face.
I let out a hysterical shriek and pedal back into the stall, shivering.
