Leader
Chapter eight
Hayes Rosewood
A glove comes soaring toward my face. I duck just in time to avoid it.
“What’s up with you today, man?” Forrest pants opposite of me. “You’re not usually this slow.”
As often as I can manage, I come to Haymakers, a boxing gym not far from campus, to train.
And just about every time I’m here, I end up sparring with Forrest. He’s like a brother to me, despite our massive differences.
He grew up in foster care, with barely a penny to his name.
If he was at a restaurant and they asked if he preferred sparkling or still water—not that he’d even be in a place like that—he’d look at them confused and tell them tap was fine.
He works a part-time job at a frozen yogurt shop after school and spends all of his money on pay-per-view fights and Fortnite. He’s also seventeen.
Our relationship began because I’m better at boxing than him. It’s not overconfidence, just a fact. The owner of the gym, Al, introduced us because he thought I could help Forrest out. I didn’t realize at the time how close we would become.
Close enough for him to tell when something’s off, unfortunately.
“I thought I’d go easy on you, give you a chance,” I reply as I roll my shoulders a few times to loosen up the tension.
Forrest gives me a skeptical look.
“You haven’t gone easy on me since the day we met. Again, I ask: what’s up?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, now get your gloves up, or I’ll find a new sparring partner.”
The word partner sends my mind back down the road it was on the last time Forrest caught me off my game. Aurora. Since the day we met, she’s danced around my mind like it’s her stage. But she wasn’t always there, like she seems to be lately.
Now, I’m analyzing all of our interactions. Specifically, our tutoring session. It’s not often so many of my faults are on display for a person. That’s usually saved for when I visit my parents.
Forrest lifts his gloves, and we start to circle each other in the ring. Some rap song about winning plays over the speakers, mixing with the smack of fists against hanging bags and the clang of weights. I bounce from foot to foot and try to focus.
It’s no use, though. Aurora now knows I’ve never studied.
That I don’t even know how to. She saw how inept I am with Digital Logic.
And witnessed an interaction with a woman who was far too familiar with me for me to have forgotten her name.
That’s more weakness than anyone has ever had access to.
The one woman who only gives me scraps of her attention now knows more about me than everyone except the guy swinging at me right now.
I block his hit, then swing and manage to make contact.
“Even at my worst I can still beat you, kid,” I taunt.
“So you admit you’re not at your best?” Forrest shoots back, raising a brow.
I sigh. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “Might as well give in now.”
“Or I could follow through on my threat and find somebody else.”
I pretend to look around the gym.
“You know, for the guy who always tells me it’s wrong to keep things in, you sure like to bottle stuff up.”
My lips turn up in a wry grin. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
Forrest pulls off the Velcro of one of his gloves, then tucks it under his armpit to slide it off before doing the other.
“Coach Al says a good leader always sets an example for those around him,” he replies.
I pull my gloves off.
“Who said I was a leader?”
Forrest gestures a long arm toward the wall outside of Al’s office, where there’s a series of silver plaques honoring members who went above and beyond. Ones who showed great leadership potential.
“The plaque with your name on it,” he says dryly.
“That was months ago. I decided to change my ways. I’ve decided to not follow through, always do the opposite of what I say I’m going to, and be an all-around terrible person.”
Forrest laughs as he grabs his water bottle from a corner of the ring. I drop my gloves in the opposite corner and grab my water bottle, taking a swig of the cool liquid. With the drink comes a little clarity, and as much as I don’t want to talk about it, I know I should.
It took months for Forrest to open up to me, and a big reason he did was because I talked to him. A lot. If he didn’t have the kind of life that he did, with so many struggles, I probably wouldn’t care as much. But he needs to know he can trust me.
“You remember when I said I hated one of my classes this semester?” I ask, and lean against the ropes.
Forrest stops chugging water and nods. “Yeah, digital something? Ethics?”
“Logic,” I correct. “Yeah. I’m failing.”
Forrest’s brown eyes go wide.
“Does that mean you’re broke now?”
A laugh bursts out of me. I told him a while back about the deal with my dad. The one that says if I’m going to go to college, I have to keep my grades up, or he cuts me off until I come to work with him.
“Not yet, but I will be if I can’t pass this class.” I rake a hand through my hair. “So, I got a tutor.”
“Okay.” Forrest drags out the word, like he doesn’t understand where this is headed.
“It’s the ballerina who hates me,” I inform him. Because I also told him about Aurora, which I’m now beginning to regret, because he’s laughing hysterically, doubling over in a way I don’t appreciate.
“Okay, it’s not that funny.”
“It is,” he gasps between laughs. “It almost makes me believe in karma.”
“Karma?” I huff. “How is this karma?”
Forrest straightens back up and smirks.
“All the girls you dated once, then tossed the next day have come back to haunt you.”
I shoot him an unamused look. “Don’t make me put you in a headlock.”
“I just think it’s interesting that you’re usually the one turning people away, and now the one woman who won’t date you is your tutor. Sounds like karma to me.”
“Maybe her spending time with me will make her want to date me,” I challenge.
“As someone who spends a lot of time with you, hard disagree.”
I shake my head, laughing in spite of his dig.
A shout breaks into our conversation. “The ring isn’t a beauty parlor,” Al yells. “Fight or get out.”
I glance over to see Al poking his head out of his office, which he keeps shut the majority of the time. He does have a window, though, so he can watch the gym. The elderly man’s words come out brash, but his grin undermines them.
“Sorry, Al,” I yell back. “Forrest was trying to get me to talk about my feelings.”
Forrest glares at me, knowing that plenty of other guys in the gym can hear me. I grab my stuff and duck out of the ring before he decides to start back up our fight. Forrest follows suit, grumbling about me being an idiot. Al chuckles at us and returns to his office.
We walk over to the metal lockers lining one of the walls, and I pull out my duffel, throwing my gloves inside.
“So, why is the ballerina in your head?” Forrest asks as he pulls on his shoes.
I shrug. “It’s just weird to have a tutor in general. Even if it wasn’t her. I’m not used to needing help.”
“It’s only weird if you make it weird. Everyone needs help sometimes.”
My phone buzzes in the bottom of my bag, so I reach for it.
“I thought I was supposed to be the mentor here,” I joke.
“Well, you were slacking today so I figured I’d help,” he replies.
I chuckle and turn my phone over to check it, frowning when I see a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hey! It’s Mckinleigh. Are you free tonight? I thought we could catch up like you said.
My brow furrows. I don’t remember giving her my number. Most girls I go out with message me on Thrasher Connect, the campus messaging app.
“What is it?” Forrest asks.
I sling my duffel over my shoulder.
“Some girl found my number.”
“See? Told you. Karma.”
I reach out and shove him, making him laugh. We end up wrestling until Al comes out to yell at us. By the time I leave the gym, I’ve forgotten all about Mckinleigh’s text. But Aurora is still dancing around my mind.