Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

25| Jealousy, jealousy

By the time the gym closes, the place is practically spotless. I put the bleach back and scan the equipment, looking for anything out of place, but everything is where it should be – now all there's left to do is wait.

The familiar thud of my heart returns as I sit and watch the door. Maybe I'm wrong – perhaps it was just my imagination – but I could have sworn as Nico leaned closer that night, he was seconds from kissing me.

And I wanted him to.

Which is why the idea of seeing him tonight is so nerve-wracking. The gym is on the brink of closure, my life is on the verge of imploding in fury, and the last thing I need is to complicate things. So why can't I stop thinking about him?

Determined to get a grip, I get to my feet and spend the next few minutes shadowboxing. One-two, one-two, one-two. I position my foot, balancing my weight and landing another hit. My fists cut through air, heavy and solid and strong.

Powerful.

I shift my back foot, ready to land another blow when I feel his solid presence behind me. "Move your hip slightly," he says and places his hand near my hip as he guides it in place. Even through the bulk of my sweatshirt, his fingers burn my skin.

"Look who's arrived on time for once." I force myself to turn around. He looks good today. He's wearing a tight black tee and the kind of sweatpants that drive a girl ten levels of crazy. My eyes skim his biceps, large and tanned and overpowering, honing in on the tattoos.

"How's your hand?" he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He grabs my hand, holding it in his as he studies my knuckles. I swallow hard, surprised by the contact but not the least bit affronted by it. "It's already closed."

"Does this mean I can spar?" I ask.

"You should give it a few more days," he says, dropping my hand. "You don't want it to open again."

"I'll be fine." I'm about to turn and head for the equipment box, but he grabs my hand and yanks me back, forcing me to spin around. As he stares down at me, my breath catches. A hint of arrogance laces his eyes.

"Which one of us is the coach here?" he asks.

"You," I say sweetly, "but I'm the one in charge."

His gaze drops to my lips and stays there, betraying his thoughts. Smart mouth. It's the same look he'd given me that time in the ring when I'd said, Ay, ay, captain. Challenging his authority seems to trigger him, and part of me enjoys pushing his buttons.

When he doesn't speak, I pull off my hoodie and place it aside. His eyes travel over my chest and stomach, lingering on my hips. Then, as if he's realized where his gaze has ended up, he shifts it back to my face. "You're not fighting today," he says with a wicked glint, "but you can watch me fight."

He says it like watching him is this incredible privilege. I'm about to argue, but he's already making his way to the door. I hurry to follow him, practically running to keep up with his long strides, and together, we head down the steps.

"You speak to Coach yet?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, and the shame I'd felt earlier returns. "I'm technically banned from training, but Maddie–" I pause and look over, "–I'm not sure if you met her, but she's Hayden's girlfriend. She said Coach will probably forgive me in a few weeks, so I just need to stay out of trouble until then."

He doesn't have to say anything for me to know what he's thinking: for you, that's practically impossible. "Why'd you hit him?" he says instead.