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“I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurted, cringing at how pathetic I sounded.
He stopped and looked at me, making me stop and turn toward him. “That wasn't my plan, but it seems strange that you dropped your panties for me during half time but alone on a Friday night is where you draw the line.”
“That was a mistake, and you know it,” I tried to reason with him.
“Admittedly, that was not my best idea, but I haven't felt the anguish of remorse yet.”
If I tried to tell him I had, he would see right through me, so I turned and started hitting the bag again. He let me be, leaving me to my own demons while he chose a bag a few down from me and started punching.
He started soft, almost getting a feel for the weight and the way it swung. After a few minutes, he was punching harder, grunting, and in a zone of concentration I wasn't even sure I could penetrate. I knew that zone, it was the one I got in when I needed to let loose.
I wanted to know what it was that made Levi feel that need. What was it that sat so deep inside of him that punching and fighting was an outlet for him? Sure, some guys just did it for a workout and enjoyed the thrill. But that wasn't what his issue was. It was more than that. More than a high-pressure coaching job, the media in his face, and everyone always in his business. It was more than the fact that he slept with me and made his job harder. It was more than anything that was obvious.
If I had never seen him fight, I would truly think he was fucking with me to control me like Richard Elder had implied in my ear the other day. But before Levi barreled into my locker room, before he demanded to know what Richard had said to me, I had seen him fight.
It wasn't the fight of a man looking for shits and giggles, it was the fight of a man that had a lot of fight in him. And that alone was what made me feel that he and I were on the same side of a fucked up and crooked world, brought together by people who only cared about the bottom line.
Did I trust him? No. But I knew when he told me to face the wall and let him fuck me that it wasn’t for me to get my head on right, it was for him. He was the one that needed the outlet and he found it in me, just like I was sure he had in New York.
Backing away from my bag, I tore my gloves off and grabbed another set to hit the heavy bag with. Levi was still in his zone, so I watched him from behind, the sweat coming through his t-shirt and clinging to his back. His movements were skilled, beyond boxing. He was an athlete all around, that much was obvious. I knew he had once played football, but I bet he played everything growing up–probably the best at everything as well.
“If you want to watch, why not stand behind this bag and give it more support?” he grunted.
“What so you could miss and hit me? No thanks.”
He stopped punching and turned to look at me. “I don't miss.”
“But you didn't say you wouldn't punch me,” I raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.
He put his hands on his waist and shook his head. “No. I didn't.”
I feigned shock and took a few steps closer. “You’d hit a girl?”
“Didn’t say that either.” He took two steps closer to me, lessening the distance between us even more.
“Then just me? I’m special?”
“You’re not a girl,” he took two more steps. “I’d never do the things I did to you, to a girl.”
“Oh, you mean demean me and use my gender against me as an argument for your team playing shitty?”
His laugh was loud, real, and completely unexpected. He licked his lips, trying not to smile and looked down at the floor while something ran through his head. I waited his response out, too curious if he was going to try and defend himself against the unwarranted things, he’d said to me on the field.
“Yeah, I should probably stick with poor eyesight and insanity as to why you make the calls you do.”
“Wow! So, you agree?”
“Of course, I agree. I know when I am stooping too low.”
We were now two feet from one another, both of us standing with our hands on our hips and our eyes squinted at one another.
“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
He shrugged and licked his lips. “Doesn’t matter, Apple. I won’t stop. Not until you’re off that field.”
Without thinking, I reared back with my gloved hand and punched him in the stomach. I hit him hard, because he sucked in a deep, and unexpected breath. But no matter how strong of a woman I was, I barely made an impact on him.
Anger coursed through me as I wished I was bigger and stronger, enough to land him on his ass and laugh as I walked away. Bringing my other hand up, I started to swing at him again, only that time, he saw it coming. He held his own glove up and blocked it before dipping down and picking me up over his shoulder with ease. I screamed, scared at first, but it quickly turned into annoyed as he climbed the steps to the boxing ring.
