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“Like most professional sports, we have to train both our bodies and our minds,” I explained. “We do a healthy mix of cardio and weights to maximize stamina and strength.”
“And nutrition plays a big factor, as well?”
“You’ve done your research.”
Julia shrugged. “There was a headline a while back that claimed Michael Phelps had to eat almost 12,000 calories a day because of how strenuous his training was. I always thought it was a gross exaggeration.”
I chuckled. “It probablywasan exaggeration, though you’re not wrong about having to eat more than the average person. Red and I clear out Dylan’s fridge almost every day. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to cook for shit, but also because we need the fuel. You’d think his sister would have taught him a thing or two, but my God, that guy could set water on fire.”
“I’m surprised you’re both staying with Dylan. Wouldn’t it have been easier to spring for a hotel?”
“Yes, but Red’s a frugal guy. He works closely with our manager to make sure we aren’t spending beyond our means. Plus, Dylan’s a good guy. No way he was going to let his buds rack up a huge bill when he’s got a perfectly fine place to crash.”
“Spending beyond your means?” she echoed.
“We only get paid per fight,” I explained.
Julia’s brow furrowed. “But I thought this was your debut? You haven’t had any fights.”
“Exactly. Things are… pretty tight.”
She whistled. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Thank God we thrive under it.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Could you maybe leave that last bit out of your article? I don’t want everyone knowing about our financial struggles.”
Julia nodded, offering me an understanding smile. “Of course. Consider it off the record.”
I leaned in, bumping my shoulder against hers. “I knew I liked you.”
The tips of her ears burned bright red. It was the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen.
A part of me really wanted to give it a nibble, graze her neck with my lips, see if I could make other parts of her body turn the same shade of crimson.
Julia cleared her throat, pulling away to step toward the mounted contraption on the wall. “And what’s this?”
“It’s a speed bag. It helps with stamina and hand-eye coordination.”
“Why do they call it a speed bag?”
“Because—” I gave it a good hit, the tiny bag bouncing back and forth on its lubricated hinge with incredible speed and force.
Julia instinctively shrunk into herself. “Jesus, that’s loud.”
“Sorry, I should have probably warned you.”
“How do you hit that thing without it taking your eye out?”
I chuckled. “Practice, of course. It’s all about timing and control. Want to give it a try?”
She shook her head. “And make a complete fool of myself? I think not.”
“Come on, it’s not that hard.”
“Sure, foryou.”
I set my hands on her hips and gently nudged her to take up her position in front of me. From behind, I reached for her hands and raised them up just in front of her face.
“Feet shoulder’s width apart,” I murmured in her ear. “Don’t clench your fists so tight. Aim for the middle of the bag while you do a three count.”
