Logan
The rope slices the air.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
I continue jumping at a steady rhythm, swinging the rope over my head, one second after the next.
The scene from the sushi restaurant keeps replaying in my mind.
Hunter. Natalie. The two of them leaving together.
Thwack. Fuck Hunter. Thwack.
Sweat trickles down my biceps.
I've never been so angry in my entire life. And this isn't like me. Not normally. But I can't help it. The one man who has been my rival for over a decade—Hunter—has bested me. And that isn't all. He's taken off with the one woman I'm interested in.
Natalie. Na-ta-lie … three syllables that have come to symbolize a drop-dead sexy, funny, and whip smart woman.
True, she unexpectedly appeared in my life, but I'm glad she did, and there's no way I'm letting her slip out of it now, just to be taken away by Hunter.
Again.
This isn't the first woman Hunter has taken from me.
I let go of the jump rope and drop to the ground, pumping my arms and performing quick pushups. Maybe that will clear my mind.
One. Two. Three. Inhale. Exhale.
I need to stay focused. There's a Japanese proverb that says, "After victory, tighten your helmet chord." That's exactly what I plan to do.
Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine.
Sweat's now dripping into my eyes. I'm trying to stay focused on my training, but no matter what I do, I can't stop thinking about Natalie.
I slide my hands into a pair of boxing gloves and hit a weighted bag.
Bwap! Bwap! Bwap!
I bounce on the balls of my feet. I jab, hook, and cross until my muscles burn, completely spent, and my breathing is ragged.
I can't ignore this. I can't get Natalie out of my mind.
There's only one solution. I need to see her.
I need to see Natalie now, at her office.
I grab a hand towel and drag it across my forehead, wiping the sweat from my face.
"Finished already, boss?" a voice says.
I turn around and see one of my sparring partners gearing up for the ring, securing padding across his abdomen.
"Something came up. Another time?" I'm so distracted that I forgot about our sparring session.
"Sure thing boss," he nods.
I can't tell if that's disappointment on his face, or relief, but I don't have time to wonder. I grab my car keys and leave the gym.
The second I step out of the gym's glass doors, the noonday sun is blinding. I blink back the brightness, and before I can even see where I'm heading, I walk straight into a man in a tailored suit and thick, horn-rimmed glasses.
"Excuse me," I say, stepping out of his way.
"Logan?"
I look up at the man and holding a hand cupped over my brow to shield my eyes from the harsh sun.
"Can I help you?"
"Your profile article in the Gazette is creating some buzz," he says. "Is it true about Hunter?"
As soon as he says this, I notice he's holding a pen and small pad of paper in his hands. He must be a fucking journalist.
"Sorry, I don't talk to journalists," I say.
"You talked to Natalie. I only want a moment of your time," he says.
I keep walking, ignoring him. I'm almost to my car when another reporter approaches me. She's a thin, frantic woman who seems to speak with her hands, gesticulating wildly.
"You and Hunter are the two best fighters the sport has seen in the last decade. Seeing both of you profiled at the same time is causing people to talk," she says, holding a voice recorder in my face.
"I don't have time for this."
"People aren't just talking," she continues. "Your article has created a media frenzy. Everyone is asking why the two of you have never fought each other?"
"We'll never fight each other," I say.
"Why not?"
"It's personal."
"But you two are the best in your divisions. People are saying the matchup would be the fight of the century," she says.
Finally, I place the key in my car door, open it, and slide inside. But before I can shut the door behind me, the woman continues, "There can only be one champion. What are you afraid of?"
"Afraid?"
I don't know why, but her accusation brings back the images of Hunter and Natalie together in my mind again. I'm willing myself to stay calm.
She shrugs. "Do you think he'd win and get the best of you? Is that it? Are you afraid to see what the outcome of that match would be?"
"If it's one thing I'm sure of, it's this: Hunter wouldn't stand a chance against me in a fight," I say. So much for staying calm. I can feel a rage building up behind my temples and my pulse is kicking into high gear.
"So why not fight? Why not show the world who's the best fighter?"
I think about the way Natalie and Hunter exited the sushi restaurant, hand in hand.
Enough is enough.
Hunter isn't going to dictate what or how I live my life. He doesn't get to step into my life and wreak havoc, or take women from me.
Fuck it. I'm tired of being cautious. Always playing by a safe set of rules.
I look up at the journalist. "If Hunter wants to fight me, I'm more than happy to oblige."
Maybe it's time for us to go into the ring.