Unleashed: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Part 9

His voice bounces out from the tiled changing room walls: "The good kind of trouble?"

"The jail-time kind of trouble!"

"Can't hear you."

I'm standing at the doorway to the boy's changing room, hands on my hips, determined to get the last word in.

Coach is still on the other side of the gym, in the practice cage, picking up stuff.

Argh!

I step into the changing room, shouting: "The jail-time kind of trouble!"

But when I round the corner of a corridor, I see him totally naked from behind, his tight, bare a.s.s facing me. His broad back tapers into a small but muscular waist. His thighs look thicker like this; it's obvious he's a wrestler.

He looks at me over his shoulder, the sharp line of his jaw's profile striking.

"No girls allowed. Can't you read?"

I'm rooted to the spot, can't move, can't believe that I just burst in here like this.

The smell of him reaches my nose again, and I feel a surge in my temperature, b.u.t.terflies in my stomach.

He just starts to turn around when Coach's voice booms through the doorway: "Young lady, you get out here right now!"

I jolt, shaken by the aggression in the voice, and instantly spin on my heel just as Chance turns to face me.

I only barely get a glimpse at his lower half, but it fades quickly. All I can remember is the deep lines of his Adonis belt pointing downward toward his- "Now!" Coach yells, and I hurry out of the changing room, cheeks burning, fiddling with my hair.

"Sorry, Coach Daniels," I say.

"Jesus H Christ!" he cries, throwing his hands up. "Teenagers these days!"

He clucks his tongue at me, gestures for me to follow him, and so I do, but not before looking over my shoulder back at the changing room door.

Chance is there, a towel wrapped around his waist, leaning on the door frame, watching me. He adjusts his towel right above his crotch, just like he did his belt at the bus stop.

I roll my eyes and look away, but not quick enough to miss his growing grin.

He makes me act out of character, and I wish I knew why.

"Now what is it you want, Ms. Shannon?"

"Um," I stall, forgetting for a moment. "A reference letter from you."

"Why? From what I hear you already got into some top-ten college in England?"

I straighten up. "Aren't I ent.i.tled to a reference?"

"You are."

"And don't you have to highlight my good qualities?"

He sighs, evidently not liking being told what his obligations are. "Yes."

"Then I'll take every reference I can get."

"Banking them, are you?"

"You never know," I tell him. "Better to be prepared."

"There is such a thing as over-preparing."

"In sports, maybe."

"In life, young lady," he says. "Come up to my office, I'll print it out for you."

"Um, Coach Daniels?" I say as he's just about to turn around.

He puts his hands on his hips, and faces me again. "Yes?"

"Would you mind if I read it first?"

"Now, that you are not ent.i.tled to," he informs me.

d.a.m.n! It was worth a shot, though, the chance that he might be open to suggestion on changes or phrasing.

He's about to turn again when I stop him. "Coach."

"Yes?" he asks me impatiently.

I grind my teeth together nervously. My mood's changed in an instant, and now my footing feels loose.

On school grounds, talking with teachers, I've always felt so confident, so comfortable. I've always known where I stood, always known the boundaries as a student, what I was and was not ent.i.tled to, what my responsibilities and duties were, not just to myself, but to my teachers.

But now I'm not comfortable because I'm not talking about my reference letters, or what kind of method of citation I should use, or whether I can organize a school charity event.

Now, I'm going to ask something I'm entirely not comfortable about, especially to a teacher.

I'm about to show him my hand.

I'm about to put myself at a disadvantage.

"What is it, Ms. Shannon?"

My stomach churns, my fingers tremble, and I barely get the question out.

"Could I get the address to your new gym?"

Chapter Eleven.

The gym is absolutely packed, and mostly by guys.

I see Chance's coach walking around the cage, inspecting the metal chain-link fencing. The cage is set in the center of this large floor s.p.a.ce that reminds me, for some reason, of a place where they might store mannequins.

Lining the room are weight machines, free weights, treadmills, stationary bikes, punching bags, and various other fitness related things.

It's a pretty big gym made to seem tiny by the sheer amount of people currently standing in it.

There's no seating, and all the guys mill about, excitedly chattering over the series of fights they're going to see.

I walk to a scoreboard, and see the fight lineup. Chance fights in the first round, has a bye in the second, and then fights in the final round.

I thread my way through the people, and that's when I see a group of girls from our school, all the popular ones. They're dressed-up as if they're going out, miniskirts and heels and make up and the like. It's Alice Ortiz, Nicole Stansfeld, and all their cronies.

Yuck. I avoid them.

I see in front of me a guy with a pony tail taking down notes on a pad. He's going around taking money from various people.

But at that moment Chance's coach comes storming out of the cage, and hauls pony tail out, barking at him, "No betting in my gym!"

d.a.m.n, I think to myself. These fights definitely attract a certain type.

That's when I spot Chance on a bike at the back of the gym, pedaling. I walk to him, but he's got his back to me so he doesn't see me.

"Hey," I say, feeling a little nervous, a little unsure of what I'm even doing here, of what to say to him.

He looks at me over his shoulder, smirks. "So you did get that address from Coach."

"I was curious," I say in as nonchalant way as possible. "I've never seen a real fight."

A bell dings, and I swivel around to see Coach Daniels standing in the cage. Chance gets up off the bike, guides me to walk with him, a hand at the small of my back.

"You like the idea of fighting?"

"Not really," I tell him. "But I don't dislike it."

Chance threads our way through the crowd. People offer him encouragement and compliments. He's basically a rockstar in here.

He walks me closer toward the group of girls from school, but I don't really want to go near them.

That's when he seems to sense my discomfort, and so he grips my hand, pulls me into him, and kisses me hard in plain view of them.

My whole body goes limp in his arms, and he holds me tight against him, and eventually our kiss fades to a break, and he grins at me.

Then he leaves me, walks into the cage.

The girls are all staring at me in disbelief.

I can't help but smile.

Chance's opponent enters the cage, and Coach starts the fight. It's lightning fast, I don't even really pa.r.s.e what I see, but all I know is Chance goes left first, then right. He fakes a kick, his opponent bites, and then Chance kicks out his leg, sends him cras.h.i.+ng to the mat.

Chance locks him up, and his opponent taps out.

Boom. Fight over in under twenty seconds.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I whisper, my voice adding to the rising murmuring. That's what fights are like? That quick?

Chance steps out of the cage, takes my hand, and then leads me right back to the bikes at the back of the gym. He hops on one, starts pedaling.

"Won't that tire you out?"

"Tire me?" he balks. "No, I've got too much energy. I need to burn some off. It also keeps me warm."

"That was kind of a quick fight."

"Chang's a good fighter," he says. "He's fast, so you got to go hard and early or he'll tire you out, dance around you for days. I gave him a left-right stutter, kicked his leg, locked him up."

"It's that mechanical, huh? Just a sequence of events?"

"Everything is a sequence of events," Chance says to me.

"You know what I mean."

"We practice these techniques for a reason. They work."

"Why'd you ask me to come down here, anyway?"

"Because I like you, and you don't have anything better to do."

"Uh," I sound, making a face. "Yeah, I do."

"Like what?"

"Like none of your business."

"Plus you also get to see me topless again."

"I'd need more than that just to come all the way down here," I tell him.