Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

31| Dirty little secret

Nico and I come to an unspoken agreement. Every evening, we do a series of drills to build my stamina before sparring in the ring, determined to put in some hours before the fight next month. It's only afterward, when we're breathing hard, and the tension is thick, that he allows himself to kiss me.

It never lasts long, just enough to make me wish he'd break his control, but he doesn't. Some part of him is holding back, reluctant to let go; part of me is too.

Still, between training with him and Coach, it's hard not to notice my progress. Not just in the ring, but in life: my grades are better, my anger is under control, and Dad says I can finally move in with him next week. Aside from the uncertain future of the gym, things are damn near perfect.

I spend Saturday morning at Daisy's house snapping pictures of me. With four weeks to go, Coach says it's time to announce my fight, making everything more real. My mother thinks I should do it with a selfie, so here we are, my face slathered in makeup and my hair in plaits while I pose in Daisy's garage.

She shows me the pictures, and I'll admit, I look good but don't look like me. Maybe it's silly, but the ring is the one place my mother's critiques can't reach me. I don't need to be pretty or perfect to win – I need to be strong, and that's what I love about fighting. To spend all this energy trying to look different feels counterintuitive.

"Please tell me they're fine," Daisy pleads.

I don't blame her; we've been at this for over an hour, but even though I'm still unhappy, I say, "They're perfect. Thanks, D."

Her face falls as she studies me closely. "You think I don't know when my best friend is lying? Your eye gets all twitchy like you're on crack."

I bite my lip, hating that she's put this effort just for me to dislike them. "It's not your photography skills," I say to make her feel better. "It's just that when I look at those pictures, I don't feel like me."

I wait for her to be irritated, the way my mother would be if I'd wasted her time, but sometimes I forget that not everyone reacts like my mother does.

"Okay, I have an idea," Daisy says, and we spend the next ten minutes wiping off my makeup until I'm fresh-faced again.

She has me stand in front of the garage wall, my gloved hands high as I look into the distance. "Now, think of the fight," she says. "Imagine the moment you step into that ring and face Katarina. Think about what's on the line: the gym, Coach, those kids. Winning your fight is the only thing that will save them."

I do as she says, my stomach suddenly swirling with heat. Sometimes in all the training, I forget that this fight is for the gym – not just the gym, but everyone in it: Auden, Coach, Hayden, Maddie.

Me.

"There," Daisy says, smiling. "That's our money shot."

I look up to see she's staring at the screen with the biggest smile. Peering over her shoulder, I glance at the picture, preparing to be horrified, but I'm not. This is the picture I'd envisioned in my head: strong and fierce and determined.

I look like me.

"Thank you," I say, throwing my arms around her. "I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve a friend like you, but I'm glad."

Daisy laughs and hugs me back. "I don't know either."

We spend the next hour or so watching Desperate Housewives, her new Disney + obsession, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I've got training later, but we've been going so hard these past few days that it feels like I'm running on empty. Still, I know it's working when I look in the mirror. My muscles are leaner, and my body is lithe. In a few more weeks, I won't just feel ready.