Chapter 8
SANDRA
“You’ll be fine. You’re going to love this. You’re going to kick ass,” Jerry chants quietly beside me.
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” I ask.
“Yes. Darren is going to owe me big time for having to work late today.”
The gym is loud and way more packed than it was when we came in during the day.
Taking that first step through the massive open garage door feels like throwing myself into a terrifying abyss.
I draw a deep breath in through my nose and let it out slowly.
I’m not generally a nervous person, which is probably what gets me in trouble half the time, but this is a bit out of my wheelhouse.
If it wasn’t for Jerry, I probably would’ve chickened out.
I put my hand on his arm. “You know, it really is a shame he couldn’t make it. Maybe we should just come back another night when—”
“Oh hey!” Brick steps outside with a huge smile on his face. “You guys made it! That’s awesome!” He sounds like I’m an old friend he hasn’t seen in ages, not someone who wandered in and filled out a clipboard by accident.
Apparently we’re doing this. “I promised I would, right?”
“You’d be surprised how many people get cold feet at the last minute.
Come on in, we’re just getting set up. I’ll show you guys where the loaner equipment is and get you fitted.
You’ve never boxed before, right? Don’t worry, there’s no sparring in the beginner classes, but it’s a good idea to get used to how the gear feels. ”
The class is actually fun. Brick led Jerry away and left me with a woman named Dana who’s probably five-three at most, but has the most amazing arms I’ve ever seen.
She could probably throw me across the room and I wouldn’t even mind.
She leads me and five others through a light cardio warmup and then an hour of basic punches, guards, and footwork.
By the time we’re done, I’m sweating and aching in the way that feels good now but will haunt me in the morning.
Surprisingly, I think I want to come back.
When we’re done, I clean up in the locker room and go to find Jerry.
I spot him in a small crowd watching a match in the center ring.
From the sound of the spectators, there’s a serious fight going on, but I’m more focused on getting to my friend.
When I finally get to him, I have to nudge him to get his attention. “Hey. How was your class?”
"What? Oh, it was great, but not as great as this." He pulls my shoulder so I face the ring, forcing me to look.
Wait, what? Isn't that…?
My eyes go wide as I grip the rope barrier that surrounds the boxing ring. Beast and Piston are in the middle of it, looking like they want to kill each other. Beast swings a gloved fist the size of a Christmas ham in the direction of Piston's head, which Piston barely dodges.
What are they doing here? Though I suppose it makes sense that they found Junkyard nearby if this is where they work out.
Not that I’m complaining. They're shirtless, with every muscle, scar, and splash of ink on full display as their powerful bodies move in a dangerous dance. Two hulking gladiators circling each other with surprising speed and agility. Beast is more mobile, ducking in and out while Piston watches his every move. Piston’s neck tattoo goes down farther than I thought, stretching out over his collarbones.
His ink is mostly shades of black and gray, while Beast is covered in a patchwork of color, only marred by a nasty looking stretch of scarring on his arm and side. Both of them glisten with sweat.
Piston blocks as he dodges, getting himself out of the way as he redirects the punch, and then uses the momentum of his twist to throw a one of his own.
Beast takes it on his guard, looking a little like Piston's trying to punch down a wall.
The room is full of loud cheers and whoops as the two of them circle each other.
They're incredibly evenly matched, and it's obvious this isn't their first time, or second or probably hundredth. They move like they were born for this.
Beast connects with Piston's shoulder, knocking him sideways.
"Best you can do? My grandma hit harder than that," Piston snaps. Their speech is a little mangled by the mouth guards but trash talk for the crowd is more important than enunciation.
Beast’s answering grin is a little feral. "She must be real disappointed about what a pussy you turned into."
"Fuck no. A pussy can take a beating and snap right back." Piston's left is lightning fast, bouncing off Beast's skull twice before it's blocked and he has to throw himself backwards so Beast's fist doesn't just straight up launch him out of the ring.
I figured they were just sparring, but there are people in the crowd taking bets. I know they play rough, but are they actually going until someone gets knocked out? Is that even how boxing works or am I thinking about video games? My one class apparently didn’t teach me everything.
Beast suddenly holds up a fist, and nods in my direction.
Piston hops back immediately. When he sees me, his lips split into a grin and he takes a few steps in our direction. He pops out the mouth guard. "What’re you doing here, beautiful? Stalking us?"
Everyone turns to look at me, Jerry included. "Wait, are those your hot bikers?" His gaze flicks quickly to the men in the ring before coming back to me, wider than ever.
I trap my lower lip with my teeth. "Two of them, yeah."
Jerry lets out a low whistle. "Wow. I think you left out a few details."
"You wish," I call out to Piston. "It’s just a small world, that’s all."
"Aw, baby, it’s okay. We wouldn’t mind one bit, promise," Beast teases. He grabs a towel off the ropes and uses it to wipe the back of his neck and face. “Admit it, you just wanted to see me again.”
“Why do you think it’s you? Maybe I came to see Piston.”
Piston chuckles. “Is it a competition? Winner gets the girl?”
I cock my head and put my hands on my hips. “I’m not a prize, fellas.”
"A kiss, then. Winner gets a kiss," Beast says loud enough for the crowd to hear. There’s laughter and some whistling in response.
Jerry nudges my side. “As your friend, I should tell you that this seems like a bad idea, but as your longstanding partner in crime, if you don’t say yes, I’m going to disown you.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. I’ve already kissed Piston and the world didn’t end. Maybe part of figuring out who I want to be is figuring out how to balance this whole responsible adult thing with actually having fun.
"That’s my girl," Jerry whispers.
"Okay, fine. A kiss to the winner."
The crowd cheers, and more money exchanges hands.
Beast beats his broad chest with one glove, then points it at me. "See you after the match, baby."
Piston laughs. "You'll see her, all right. At a fucking distance, and in my arms." He pops the guard back in.
This time when they square up, there's a whole new layer of tension between them. I feel like a princess, watching to see which knight is going to win the joust in her name. They’re just playing around, but the thought of two guys duking it out over something as simple as a kiss from me is a little thrilling.
If I thought they were going rough on each other earlier, it's nothing compared to now. Piston's fists live up to his name, pummeling Beast over and over so quickly it’s painful to watch. But the hits glance off Beast's guard like water drops off a windshield, and Beast’s return punches are brutal. Everything I know about boxing is purely accidental, but it’s obvious that they know what they’re doing.
It's almost like a dance, the way they move together like they’ve rehearsed it.
Jerry and I are right up on the ropes, cheering them both on. With everything right up in my face, it’s so wild and visceral that it’s easy to get swept up in the excitement along with the rest of the crowd. My fingernails dig into the rope in front of me as I cling to it like a lifeline.
It can’t last forever, though. No matter how strong they are, eventually their moves slow and more hits start to connect.
Piston lands one that sends Beast reeling but he gathers himself quickly.
I know they’re friends and this is something they’re doing for fun, but what if someone actually gets hurt?
Fists fly, the cheers are raising the roof and Jerry's hand is an iron vise around my arm. My heart can't take this.
Beast rallies, shaking off the hit. Piston is fast and powerful, but it’s not enough.
Beast throws everything into one last brutal attack that knocks Piston into the ropes, scattering a couple of the spectators.
He raises his hand, panting. "I give! You win.
" There’s blood and sweat dripping down his face.
"Jesus Christ, man. Go get it. You've fucking earned it, but your days are numbered.
" And then he plops down onto the mat, right onto his ass. "Someone get me some fucking water."
Around me, money is being paid out to the lucky winners, people are cheering, and someone pushes a water bottle into Piston’s hand. Me, I'm just glad that they both seem okay even though they’ve just beaten the crap out of each other.
Beast drops his gloves and gets down on one knee next to Piston, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You good?"
"Fucking peachy." Piston takes a deep sip and swishes water around in his mouth, before swallowing and wiping his face with his towel. Whatever was bleeding seems to have stopped. He nods his head in my direction. "I’m good. Go claim your prize."