“What are you talking about?” One of the other boys asks. He glances at me nervously and raises his hands in a universal show of nonviolence. “Dude, what the fuck is going on? I’m not interested in any fighting, alright?”
“We’re not fighting,” I snap, giving Brian a warning look.
He ignores it. “Yeah, because you already ran away once. But we’re stuck in the basement now, jumper, so there’s nowhere for you to run this time.”
Leonard laughs, Gregory mimics crying in a hyperbolic fashion, closing in on me and then shoving me hard. I stumble and shove him right back ten times harder. He goes flying into the punching bag and hits the ground with a string of cuss words. The two guys I don’t know run off and leave the gym, clearly wanting no part of this.
“That’s how it’s gonna be?” Brian gets in my face.
“Put some fucking gloves on,” I growl, practically biting the words out. “And get in the fucking ring.”
Brian looks taken aback, but Leonard has Gregory back on his feet, and the numbers make Brian feel strong, so he just scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m not playing games with you, Claremont. I get that you’re pissed because we had you running scared, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m not gonna pander to your ego in the ring to make you feel better. So how about you shut the fuck up–”
“Not just you,” I hiss, stalking to the shelves covered in gear. I pull out several pairs of gloves and start throwing them, one to each man. “All three of you. You think I’m scared? You think I ran because I can’t take you? I’m not in the mood to play nice today, Brian. So either get the fuck out, orput. Thefucking.Gloveson.”
I climb into the ring, panting and trembling. I want to hurt someone, I want to hurt myself, and them, and the whole world. I want to set things on fire, I want to break things. I want to scream, I want to rip them to shreds, I want them to beat the fuck out of me until I can’t think about anything else except the pain. I want to hit them so hard that something in them breaks, until my knuckles split, until their ears ring. I want it all. I want nothing. I’m so angry.
“Someone’s feeling confident,” Brian drawls smugly, suddenly onboard with the idea of a match if it’s three vs. one.
He slowly wraps his hands and nods at his two bros, giving them the all-clear. Leonard climbs in first, fired up, and Gregory isn’t far behind. Brian is taking his time, and I can’t tell if it’s because he wants me to get nervous or if he wants me to get even more upset.
Finally, he’s in the ring, and I’m jumping on my toes, ready to fucking go already.
I need this. I can feel the eagerness under my skin.
“What are the rules?” Brian raises a brow. “How are you going to tap out when you’re done?”
“The fight’ll be over when you’re all fucking crying,” I spit. I’m getting too manic, but I can’t seem to stop. “Let’s just start already–”
The gym door slams open again and the two guys from before tumble over each other to get back inside, eagerly leading a small crowd. One of them is filming on his phone, a bunch of the girls are gasping at us. Kira and Lexie hustle in, eyes wide and concerned.
“Told you there was a fight!” the one filming says, scandalized.
“You guys should stop,” says the other guy, looking over his shoulder for back up, like he’s searching for an authority figure.
Which is when I know he’s here.
Young-gi enters last, and takes up all the air in here. He spears us all with a hard, unyielding glance, pinning me in place with a stare that I break first.
He sighs at Brian. “We were having breakfast. Why are you causing trouble?”
“It’s–it’s just a friendly match,” Brain protests innocently, caught off guard by the blatant accusation. “We’re just having some fun. I don’t know why Logan went crying to everyone, but it’s no big deal. We’re not really fighting, we’re working out. Right, Tommy?”
“Tommy?” Kira puts a hand on the ropes and looks up at me beseechingly. I crouch down by her, and try to smile.
“Just for fun,” I repeat, not sure how believable I am. “We’re just playing around.”
“What happened to his back?” I hear Janessa gasp, followed by the feeling of eyes on my bruised skin. I glance over my shoulder and see everyone looking at me, but it’s Young-gi’s stare that has the most weight. His eyes trace down my spine, then snap up to meet mine but I look away quickly. He saw me last night. He knows what happened.
“Claremont is a bit of a daredevil,” Brian laughs, and claps a hand on my shoulder, intentionally hitting a sore spot. “He was showing off, probably a little too drunk. He didn’t exactly stick the landing.”
“Tommy doesn’t drink,” Lexie argues.
“Not here,” I agree under my breath.
“How are the teams split up?” Young-gi asks, stealing the spotlight. Everyone turns to stare at him, even me, because he’s impossible not to look at. He’s in casual wear again today; Nike joggers and a tight spandex shirt that shows every dip of muscle on his torso. I put a hand to my chin to make sure I’m not drooling.
“Claremont wants to take us all on,” Brian shrugs, but he sounds a little more nervous now. He knows it doesn’t sound like a friendly fight. “It was his idea.”
