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.

He's talking about Danny, but I don't answer right away. I think about lying – he's my coach, not my therapist – but part of me wants to get it out.

"He was talking shit," I say, "but I was angry before that." His eyebrow arches, waiting for me to continue. "My dad keeps saying I can move in with him but then pushes the date back." I pause as the familiar flick of fire ignites in my stomach. "I'm starting to think he doesn't want me to move in, which wouldn't be so bad if he sat me down and told me, but he hasn't. The one thing I hate more than anything is when someone says they're going to do something, and they don't. They don't bother to tell you they're not going to do it, either. They just don't mention it again in the hopes you'll forget, or they lie and lie until you call them out on it."

His eyes soften briefly as we step onto the street, greeted by a warm gust of air. It's filled with honking horns and the lingering scent of car exhaust and street food. "Some people are like that," he says, his voice low. "They'll sell you the dream in the hopes that eventually, the dream is all that matters."

I look at him carefully, wondering whether he's talking about his dad or someone else entirely. Before I can ask, he leads us across the street toward enemy territory. Box Inc stays open a little later than GymCon, another of its draws, but with Coach getting older and Hayden always busy with Maddie, keeping the gym open longer isn't an option right now.

The moment we walk into the reception, I tense. It feels weird just being here, like my very presence is a betrayal to GymCon, but I convince myself this is important. Watching Nico fight will only make me better, and that means winning my fight. If that means spending an hour at Box Inc, so be it.

Nico heads straight for the scanner and thumb-prints us through. I force myself to recoil in disgust and not be impressed by such sleekness and grandeur, but it's hard. As I pass, Nico lowers his head a little and positions his mouth near my ear. "You can enjoy it," he says with the tiniest smirk, "I won't tell anyone."

Despite his proximity, I manage to keep my voice even. "That's like telling someone to enjoy hell," I say, stepping away from him, "and I'm no sinner." Without looking back, I lead the way upstairs to the floor, leaving Nico to trail after me.

Jealousy swirls in my stomach the second I reach the top step. The boxing ring stands proud in the center: ropes taut, canvas pristine, and the padding plush and new. In my head, a small voice screams traitor, traitor, traitor.

Nico half turns to me, sees the shame written all over my face, and suppresses a smile. "I'm heading to the ring," he says, then starts to head over before looking over his shoulder. "Try to stay out of trouble."

He says it like it's hard for me to do, but I'm determined to prove him wrong. I lean against the far wall, watching as Nico walks up to a guy by the heavy bags. The pair exchange words before making their way to the ring.

After peeling off their t-shirts, they slip through the ropes. My eyes involuntarily take Nico in, skimming his hard, defined abs. I shouldn't be looking – I've watched him in various states of undress during training – but somehow, this is different. He turns to his opponent, eyes bright, and I'm reminded of the first night he fought against Hayden. Arrogant, determined, with a confidence that's almost magnetic; I can't look away.

The other one, while large and impressive, seems to lack that same confidence. His demeanor is aggressive, over the top in a way that suggests he lacks faith in his abilities, and already I know: this is Nico's fight.

As the coach on duty says something to them, I look across the room and spot my soon-to-be opponent, Katarina, talking to one of the gym-goers. She looks lither than before, her golden skin taut with well-defined muscles, making me nervous about my fight. If I don't put in some serious work between now and my fight, I won't just embarrass myself but the gym.

The ringing of the bell draws my attention to the ring. Light as a feather, Nico encircles his burly opponent, moving with the grace and fluidity of a dancer. His breathing is steady, each movement calculated as he keeps his hands low. I used to think him winning his fight against Hayden was luck – or sheer recklessness – but it's not; it's dedication.

Nico steps back and lets his opponent come forward. He throws a left hook and then a powerful uppercut, sending his opponent stumbling. Sweat glistens his muscles already, sheening under the harsh fluorescent light and highlighting every tendon.

Jealousy cuts through me when I glance at Katarina and see she's watching him too. She's beautiful in every sense of the word, the kind of girl Auden told me was Nico's type, and the cynic in mean can't help but wonder if maybe there's something between them. If Nico offering to train me is less about him helping me and more about helping her.

I'm obsessing so much that I almost miss Nico's combo. The opponent stumbles back, caught off guard by the sudden attack. Nico takes advantage of the moment and moves forward, delivering a swift punch to the opponent's midsection. The opponent doubles over as Nico follows up with a strike to the face.

Nico grins, the same grin I'd seen that first night in GymCon. I'm drawn by it, glued to him as if he's the only one fighting. It's not his technique that makes him so compelling, it's the spirit he possesses, the heart he puts into the fight.

He's fighting for greatness.

Barely able to keep his balance, the opponent throws a lousy jab, which is met by another blow to his cheek. The opponent sways back and forth from the impact, dropping to his knees, and just like that, it's over.

The coach calls the fight, and Nico makes his way to the corner of the ring, where someone awaits him with a towel and a water bottle. He takes a sip and wipes the sweat from his face, taking a moment to catch his breath. His opponent is helped to his feet, and the two fighters embrace in a show of mutual respect.

My heart thuds faster with excitement. Nico exits the ring, and I think he's about to walk over to me, but he doesn't; he walks to Katarina. The pair exchange words – about what, I can't tell – but Katarina grins like he's said something funny.

Heat strikes my chest. Even though it's ridiculous – even though I have no reason to care – jealousy turns into anger. Nico is supposed to be my coach, and he's busy talking to my competitor. I push myself off the wall and make my way to the exit.

Nico looks over, watching me carefully as I cross the room. "Cassie," he calls, but I keep walking. He says something to Katarina and follows me out, matching my pace as we head down the steps. As we cross the street back to Gymcon, the corner of his mouth drops. "Did someone say something to you?"

I look over, surprised by his protectiveness. "No one said anything." I push open the door, barely about to reach the first step Nico grabs my wrist and spins me. As the door clicks behind him, we're thrown into darkness, but a sliver of light pools in through the small, square window above us, lighting a fraction of his face.

"Given that I'm not a mind reader," he says, "are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

I stare into those bright eyes of his, surprised to see there's not a single mark on his otherwise handsome face. "You and Katarina looked pretty friendly." I don't mean to say it, but somehow the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. He stares down at me, the furrow in his brow easing slightly, replaced with amusement.

He leans in a little, so close that I can see the faint hint of stubble on his chin. "Relax, Cassandra. I'm not her type."

I scowl and snap, "Don't call me that." But the truth is, hearing him say my name excites me. "And forgive me for being a little concerned that my coach and competitor are friendly." I pause and then, "What do you mean you're not her type?"

"I mean," he says, unable to stop the twitch of his mouth, "you're more her type."

My mouth forms the perfect 'O'.

"I guess you don't know everything, after all," he says and leans into my ear. "Cassandra."

Heat lashes my stomach as I raise my gaze to his. Between my dad, my mom, and the fact that I've disappointed Coach, it feels like I'm teetering on the edge of sanity, and Nico is the catalyst to drive me over the edge. "If you weren't my coach, I'd punch you."

His eyes grow black as he takes a step closer. "If I weren't your coach, I'd do a lot of things I shouldn't."

I swallow hard. What things? And why, more than I've ever wanted anything, do I want to find out? I step forward, to do what, I don't know, but before I can decide, the door swings open.

Maddie walks in, about to head up the steps, when she spots us and screams. Her fist flies out, catching the side of Nico's jaw, who yelps in surprise. I scream too, which does little to help the chaos but makes me feel better.

"What," Maddie says as she looks between the two of us, "the hell. I thought you were burglars."

Nico is silent as he rubs at his jaw, so I take the lead. "Sorry, we didn't mean to scare you."

"Uh-huh," she says, deadpan. "So, what exactly is happening here in this darkened staircase after closing?"

I'm still wracking my brain for a reasonable excuse when Nico straightens up, still rubbing his jaw, and says, "I took her over to Box Inc to watch me fight. I was dropping her back."

"Right," Maddie says, glancing at me. "Interesting."

When it's clear she doesn't believe us, I add, "Considering I won't be fighting for a while, I figured I should at least watch other people fight. Um, what are you doing here?" Deflect, deflect, deflect.

She sighs and rubs her temples like a migraine is coming on. "Hayden and I got into a little argument. I came here to blow off some steam. I didn't expect to see you two skulking around in the shadows."

Hearing this surprises me. I figured she and Hayden were the perfect couple. "Well, we'll be out of your way as soon as I get my stuff," I say. Nico's bag is upstairs, along with his jacket, which means there's no way I can grab them without Maddie knowing he was up there. I give him a Sorry, you're not getting your stuff tonight look and start to head upstairs.

"Cassie?" Maddie calls.

I stop halfway and turn back around. "Yeah?"

She takes a small breath. "I'll fight you."

A/N

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