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“Miss, I thought you said fighting was bad?” Benny pipes up behind me.
I turn on my heel and look down at him. “I did say that, and I still believe that, but mostly when it comes to fighting out in the street. Here in the gym, there are rules and sportsmanship. Discipline. For me violence will always be the absolute last resort but if you have to fight, at least here in the gym it’s a safer environment.”
Benny’s eyebrows furrow in slightly, and he gives me a stiff nod, as if he’s really thinking about what I’m saying.
“Not only that, fighting in the gym takes away most of the risk of punishment,” Christina adds. “How cool is that? This is the only place where you can hit people, and as long as you play by the rules, you won’t get in trouble for it.”
I look around the crowd of children and see some of their eyes light up. Most of them are always getting into trouble for one thing or another. Finally, having something that they want to do and knowing that they won’t get in trouble for it must really make them feel at ease.
“All right, let’s get started.” Christina claps her hands, and we all follow her through the double doors that lead to the actual gym part of the facility.
The group of us stands frozen for a second as we take everything in. Even I wasn’t expecting the inside to look like this. Not only are there three large boxing rings, but there’s an MMA cage and a flat mat I’ve seen used in karate matches.
Exercise equipment lines the left side of the space, and to the right are free weights and space for open floor exercises. At least a dozen men and three women are presently using the facility, each of them clad in workout gear and dripping in sweat. These trainers are not here to play around.
Once the shock wears off, Christina continues to show us around the facility. The kids are enthusiastic about everything. They ask questions and even attempt to use some of the equipment that Christina shows them. Unfortunately, my awe stopped at the look of the gym. I have no real interest in ever using any of this equipment.
The grunts and powerful blows of a man working out in the corner catches my attention. Even while Christina is still answering the million and one questions the children have for her, this man is much more interesting.
He’s in a simple outfit, gray workout pants loose enough that I can see his quad muscles bulge every time he twists or slides around the punching bag he’s using. The black hoodie he’s wearing is oversized, but the arms are cut at the elbows, I’m assuming to give him more freedom to throw his punches.
The thick muscles in his arms bunch and release as he quickly and proficiently hits the bag. Boxing has always been a brutal and otherwise barbaric sport to me, but something about his moves, how fluid they are . . . he makes it look beautiful.
My eyes continue the journey up this man’s body until I catch just a glimpse of his face under the hood. Thick scruff covers the lower portion of his face, and from what I can see his cheekbones are sharp and high. I suck in a quick breath when his face jerks up, and I see through the shadow of his hood that he’s looking at me too.
The intense seriousness that was just plastered on his face is gone, and now a flirtatious smirk lifts his lips. He pulls the hood on his head back slightly, so I get a better look at him.
I need to look away. I know I should, but for some reason, I’m stuck staring into his intense eyes.
“Oh my God . . . that’s Reese Dyer . . . Wow!”
My daydream is cut short when all at once, all the kids from my program run past me, straight toward the man I was just staring at. They pull papers out their pockets and book bags and are begging to take pictures with him. I, on the other hand, have no idea why they are reacting like this.
Christina walks up beside me with a huge smile on her face, and I take that moment to find out what’s going on.
“Why are they all going bananas like this? Who’s he?”
Christina cuts her eyes at me and scoffs. “Girl, you need to turn on the TV every once in a while. That’s Reese Dyer, the heavyweight boxing champ.”
“Champ of what?”
“The world, sweetheart,” Reese answers, and my gaze swing back to his. He gives me a panty-melting wink before he focuses back on the kids in front of him.
I’m impressed at how gracious he is. I’m sure he didn’t come to the gym to be mobbed by a bunch of kids, but no matter what they ask him to sign, Reese does it with a smile on his face. Not only that, but he answers all the questions and takes as many pictures as they want.
When I walked up to the gym this morning with the kids, I thought the one part of this trip I’d be looking forward to would be the kids’ happiness and excitement. Turns out, what I’m actually looking forward to now are those heated glances Reese keeps shooting at me and trying to find more ways to get him to do it again.
CHAPTER FIVE
REESE
“What made you become a boxer?”
“Do you train, like all the time?”
“Can you show us some of your moves?”
Question after question is thrown at me. I don’t mind really. Since everything went down, I’d come home and started training in Bright’s Boxing Gym again, just as I did before going pro. Sparring with Travis is always fun. He knows my moves nearly as well as I do and makes it challenging to change my maneuvers up to take him down.
