Ben
“Interesting choice.” I follow her into a high-end gym a few blocks from our apartment building. A quick stop at the desk scores us each a set of workout clothing. In my fantasy she’d be in spandex, but when she returns in a black tank top and loose yoga pants I realize that works too. She is one kick-ass confident woman, and I would tell her if I didn’t think she’d knock out my teeth for saying it.
I shoot her a sidelong glance. Or at least try to. She’ good at deflecting anything I send her way.
She leads me to the back of the gym. Some men are put off by strong women, but I’ve always been close to my sisters, and I know the struggle they have with stereotypes. A man who speaks his mind is decisive, authoritative. A woman who does the same is labeled a bitch. According to my sisters, a woman has to be twice as good as a man to be considered his equal—if that admission is ever made.
I don’t know if Kylie is about to try to out-bench me or challenge me to a pull-up-a-thon, but I’m game for either. I work out. I’m not a muscle head, but I’m no slouch either.
A man who looks like he was born to kick my ass—tall, bald, and built like a truck—comes over to greet us. He shakes Kylie’s hand then steps away to talk to her for moment.
He says no about five times, looking over at me each time with a doubtful expression. He clearly doesn’t agree with whatever Kylie is asking for. I’m trying to imagine what he thinks I won’t be capable of beating her at.
He walks off, and Kylie returns to my side. Her hair is now swept up in a ponytail and it makes her look younger, more vulnerable. Her smile, however, is one hundred percent trouble.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Always,” I answer easily.
The man returns with two sets of boxing gloves and head protection for us. He opens a door to another room and beckons us to follow him inside.
As we enter a room dominated by a boxing ring, Kylie says, “Ben, this is my trainer, Jonny.”
I offer my hand to him. He doesn’t shake it, but instead hands me the gloves and helmet. “Ben,” I say.
He grunts. “You ever boxed?”
“Never.”
“Great,” he says with heavy sarcasm. “We’ll start with the bags. You need to learn basic jabs and blocks.” He turns his displeasure at Kylie. “This isn’t how I would teach anyone. Just so we’re clear—no shots to the head.”
“Of course,” I say.
His attention stays glued to Kylie. “Not one.”
Kylie puts her head gear on, and he helps her lace her gloves. She’s glowing with an excitement that gives me a distracting hard-on. “Not one,” she repeats obediently.
I feel like a naughty child as Jonny laces me into my own gloves. My heart is already working double-time. Kylie moves away and begins to punch a hanging bag with impressive power. She’s light on her feet, bold in her movements, and the aggression she unleashes on the bag is real.
I enjoy learning new things so I follow Jonny’s instructions without hesitation. He says it’s about learning to use my whole body and not just my hands. Block with my weaker hand. Strike with my stronger. Move. Hit harder. Hit faster. Don’t hold back; it’s a bag and won’t punch me back.
The adrenaline rush feels good. I’m not an angry person by nature, but I have to admit whatever frustration I have is melting away. I’m Stallone in his best years. I’m Ali taking someone down with one punch.
What part of this did Kylie think I wouldn’t like?
“Looks like you two are ready,” Jonny announces and chucks a thumb toward the ring. I’m not looking forward to feeling the power behind those fists, but I’m not afraid of it either. I climb into the ring.
Kylie does as well.
I look from her to Jonny. He doesn’t look like he’s coming in with us.
I shake my head. “I can’t hit you, Kylie.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?” she mocks as she circles me.
I appeal to Jonny for help. “Exactly, because you’re a woman.”
She takes her first jab at me. I block it. “I don’t want to be treated differently.”
I block another jab. “And I don’t want to hit a woman.”
She dances around me and takes another swipe. “If I were a man you wouldn’t hesitate. You think I’m weaker than you. I’m not.”
Her next jab fakes me out and leaves my stomach open. I feel the air whoosh out of me from the power of her blow.
I take a breath and raise my gloves defensively. “Don’t tell me what I think.”
She dances around me again. I take the stance Jonny taught me and keep my moves evasive. She strikes again, but this time I’m ready and block her. “I don’t like you.”
“You don’t know me.” I mimic her movements and decide boxing is actually a great workout.
“I know your type,” she growls and jabs again.
I weave out of her reach. Hey, this is actually fun. “And what is that?”
She dances closer. I see the wheels turning in her head. This fake-out doesn’t work on me either. It seems to work her up even more. “Weak. Unreliable. Happy with whatever comes your way.”
I strike her gloved hand with a pillow-fight strength jab. “Then why are we here?”
She comes back at me with a powerful jab. “You’re the one who asked me out. You want to know me? This is me.” She connects with my side. I stumble.
I counter with a series of more forceful blows, but I’m holding back. Nothing she can do will anger me enough to actually strike her. I’m not that man. But she needs to know I’m also not a man she can back into a corner. “Guess what? You’re fucking hot like this.”
She takes a swipe at my head and connects; Jonny blows his whistle. “Kylie. Corner.”
She walks off to face her trainer. This time their voices carry.
“What the hell are you doing, Kylie?”
“Okay. Okay.”
“No, it’s not okay, Kylie. Get out of my ring.”
“I got carried away, Jonny. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. You’re done for tonight. Get a water and go cool off.”
Kylie looks as if she wants to say more, but instead shoots me a glare and leaves the ring. I undo my helmet. “I goaded that swipe out of her,” I say in her defense as I step out of the ring.
Jonny unties my gloves. “She needs to learn to control her temper. Boxing is an art form more than a battle. You lose your perspective and advantage when you lose control.”
I nod even though I really have no idea what it takes to win in the ring. I respect that he does, though.
He accepts my gloves and helmet then says, “That said, I will fucking kill you if you ever hurt her. I mean, ‘six feet under send me back to jail’ kill.”
“Good to know,” I say, taking a step back.
He smiles suddenly. “I like you, though. You rattle her, and she needs that. You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thanks,” I say, offering my hand for him to shake. He doesn’t take it, but I feel like we’ve bonded so I let it slide.