11. Chapter 8
Mari
F ucking Chance Riordan . Having Jayden around was hard enough, let alone when I got paired up with him for sparring rounds.
The taunting.
The teasing.
The sneaky little threats.
Fucking pricks. Both of them.
It drove me up the goddamn wall.
Then, Mr Superhero Chance comes along and punishes me?! If he’s gonna punish me, he can at least have the decency to get me naked—
Don’t even go there, you absolute degenerate.
I huffed as I slammed the microwave door shut and pressed start on my lunch. After two morning classes, I was already starving. After two morning classes and dealing with a stupidly hot asshole coach who not only got on my nerves but spiked my goddamn sex drive—I was intolerably ragey.
“Pissed off with the microwave? Or pretending you’re locking someone in there?” a taunting voice said.
I tipped my head back, looking to whoever was up there in the sky, asking them the simple question, ‘ Are you fucking kidding me? ’.
“What do you want, Jayden?” Still another ninety seconds on my food.
“Just wanted to see if you’d learned your lesson.”
I could hear the smirk on his face. My throat began to vibrate with what I could only describe as the growl of a rabid dog working its way up.
“I could ask the same thing of you,” I snarled. “How’s that bloody nose I gave you?”
“Pretty good, since I didn’t have one of the UFL’s top fighters telling me I’m a shit training partner.”
Forty-five seconds left on my food. I kept my back towards him and gritted my teeth. I knew better than to play his intolerable migraine-inducing games. I shouldn’t have bitten on the stupid bait he lured me in with.
“Tell me, what’s it like to be ordered around in your own gym?” He was closer now. His volume was lowering, which I knew from the past meant some heinous shit was about to be spat at me.
“It must feel pretty demeaning. I mean—” He laughed, and the sound was anything but warm. His breath was so close I could feel my hair parting around it.
Shouldn’t have worn your hair down, Mari. That was one of the very first things Dad taught you.
“You try to act like this badass boss lady that no one can touch or order around.” He stepped closer.
Fifteen seconds left on the microwave. This brekky bowl Nan cooked up better be worth it.
“But you’re just a soft little girl, aren’t you? You and I both know just how soft you are.”
“Everything okay in here?” An icy-cool voice came from behind us, and Jayden sprung back as if someone had put hot coals under his feet.
My traitorous body let out a breath I’d been holding at the loss of contact, and I dropped my hands onto the counter to regather myself.
“Everything’s fine, Coach. Just came to clear the air with Mari here. We both got a bit heated in sparring, didn’t we, Mari?” He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed my trap.
I didn’t respond. Fuck the last five seconds on my food.
“Trevino?”
I yanked the container from the microwave, ignoring the burn on my fingertips. The anger I felt in the pit of my stomach was much hotter.
I ignored both of them, until my ego got the best of me and I flipped them both off.
Sighing when my ass hit my desk chair, I stabbed a piece of chicken and forced some egg, bacon, and potato onto my fork.
“That pig still alive? Or are you pretending that it’s my eyeball?”
I heard the smirk on Chance’s face before I saw it. His blue eyes studied me, an ocean-worth of depth swirling in a mixture of boredom and … concern ?
“Depends, are you here to berate me about this morning’s class?”
A flicker of surprise lashed through his eyes. He blinked and it was gone. “Not at all.”
I barely swallowed before I shoved another forkful into my mouth. The simmering pit of rage in my stomach started to fade.
Note to self, hunger and assface ex-boyfriend do not mix well. Add Chance Riordan into the mix—straight up shitshow.
“Surprised you’re not berating me for it though.”
“And why would I do that?” I said with a disgustingly full mouthful. Heat moved into my cheeks when I realised just how un-ladylike I was currently being.
“You tell me.” He cocked his head to the side and studied me.
My chest felt a kilometre deep when the gentle thudding of my heart turned into a brash sledge-hammering.
“It’s your class, Riordan.” I swallowed and clenched the fork in my fist to stop from taking another mouthful.
I ran my tongue over my lips, and I could have sworn he tracked the movement.
“You’re the coach here now, not me. If I’m not meeting expectations, I expect you to tell me, just as I would expect you to tell others .
” Like that asshole who got the blame pinned on me earlier.
“Anyone in particular I should keep in mind?” He folded his arms over his chest. Any trace of boredom on his face was gone, replaced with an intensity of something I couldn’t read.
I shrugged, giving in and eating the last of the food in my container.
“Interesting.”
I flicked my eyebrows up at him.
“Figured you would have told me about the little rat I just found you in the kitchen with.” Something even darker than before crossed his face.
The vein bulging on his bicep screamed at me to stare—to run my eyes up, down, and all around him. I stared at the empty container in my hands to take the slack off my eyes.
“I’m a big girl. I’m not weak. I can handle myself.” I scowled at the fact that Jayden had made me feel this way again. He’d made me feel like I needed to justify myself, physically announce that I was strong and capable and not fucking soft .
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to.” Chance unfolded his arms and bumped his fist against the wall. “Let me know if you ever feel like not having to.” With a wink and a flick of that cocky smirk, he left.
~
“ Let me know if you ever feel like not having to.”
Chance’s words ran through my head all afternoon. Surely, he was just being polite? He wasn’t offering to be my own goddamn security detail … was he ? How could a professional UFL fighter possibly care about people giving me a hard time?
Questions upon questions spun around and around in my head, all as I watched him from the side of his evening class.
I couldn’t even tell if what Chance was teaching was any good.
Why? Because he was teaching in a scrap of material you could call a singlet.
The evening was unusually warmer than the last few, meaning his singlet was saturated with sweat, along with his delicious frame.
He looked like every twenty-something-year-old girl’s pin-up man.
Was I still intent on maintaining my zero-fighters rule? Absolutely. But a girl can window shop without buying anything.
Chance picked JJ up and threw him to the ground. He casually stood, continuing his explanation of how to perform the throw and why it was useful in MMA. As if I’d screamed his name myself, his gaze whipped to mine. When the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, I realised my jaw was slack.
Yup, caught with a slack jaw.
I was almost positive, from the way he was looking at me, he could see the patch of wetness that was forming under my spat shorts.
“Get a drink. Three-minute rounds, running in between.”
While everyone began making their way off to the side of the mat to prepare for sparring, Chance and JJ walked straight towards me. JJ was chewing Chance’s ear off about god knows what, but his stare stayed on me.
“Happy with the class, boss?” Chance asked, interrupting something JJ was saying. JJ pouted and swatted his arm. Chance completely ignored him.
“Absolutely,” I replied, sliding a blank mask over my face, trying desperately to hide the fact that I knew he’d caught me ogling him.
“What did you think of the footsweep? Pretty effective right?” His hint of a smirk widened across his face.
“Looked great. I’m a big fan of footsweeps myself,” I replied as coolly as I could.
Chance laughed, fucking winked at me again, and strode off towards the sparring timer.
“You absolute horndog,” JJ scolded.
“What?” I gaped.
“We didn’t learn a fucking footsweep, Lynnie. We’ve been doing major throws the whole time.”
Some sort of weird telepathic connection between JJ and Chance pricked, and that cocky, sexy, infuriating smirk erupted onto the latter’s face.
“God, you two,” JJ grumbled. “At least try to keep it in your pants.”