“Take it easy!” my trainer, Colin, says as I attack the punching bag with everything that I’ve got. “You want to have a little energy left over for sparring.”

“Believe me, I’ve energy to burn today,” I tell him, because I can still feel her body pressed against mine, still enjoy the taste of her lip gloss, the scent of her hair. The kiss with Emma did not go as planned. No, it was far more than even I could have imagined. Much more.

I was surprised by how she responded, how ready she was. Surprised, and then mad with desire. I swear, if that mouthy little car hadn’t stuck its horn into our business, I might have taken her right there. Yes, right on the asphalt. I get the feeling Emma had a similar thought, and that the idea turned her on.

I can’t get aroused during a boxing session. Colin will send me to the showers.

Finally, I let the bag have a breather and wait for my heart rate to cool. It’s my lunch hour, but I found the idea of eating too bloody exciting. In a few hours, I’ll be eating dinner with Emma. Then, if all goes well, I’ll be eating—

I need to be a gentleman about this. And have a sandwich at some point.

“Rough day?” Colin walks with me to the mat, strapping on his gloves. “Or did you have too good of a night?” He grins at me, then jabs me in the shoulder. That one’s for free, pal.

“A gentleman never tells.” I put in my mouth guard, so I couldn’t tell even if I wanted to. Upon arriving in my long lost hometown, I wanted to keep up my training. After years of being the skinniest boy in class, I was determined to fill out. That I did, upon discovering a boxing club in Cambridge. Bit like Fight Club, but without the hallucinations and unintentional homoeroticism. It’s been something of a hobby of mine ever since.

Colin’s been in the ring with Mayweather before, and he told me when we started that I was the most natural and surprisingly advanced student he had. Said I’d missed my true calling. I believe that was all flattery to keep me coming back. Still gave him a massive tip, though.

We spar, jabbing and dodging about the place. This was exactly the right idea; there’s no thought of Emma while I’m trying to avoid getting a fist to the jaw. Because she would be too distracting. Distracting, with that dark blonde hair framing her face, her lips parted. Distracting in a low cut evening gown, so that I can glimpse those remarkable—

And I’m on the floor, Colin bending over me with a bemused expression of concern.

“Pretty sure you’ll be seeing stars after that one.” He helps me to my feet. Not stars. Breasts. Dancing, impeccable breasts.

I should have a concussion more often.

I take out the mouth guard, and laugh. There’s no real damage done; already the room’s quit shaking. “Slightly distracted today. Bit of a good night yesterday.”

Colin grins, and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Finally. I knew you’d get over being a tightass at some point.”

“Call me that again in five minutes. I need to give back as good as I get.” I stick the mouth guard back in as Colin laughs…and then someone else joins in.

The sound is enough to freeze my blood and kill any lightly stirring hard-on I might have. Gavin Walker has wandered into our private session, dressed for a workout. His teeth gleam, his shit-eating grin perfection. Of all the bloody high-end, exclusive gyms in Los Angeles, I have to pick the one with this bastard as a member?

“You still haven’t given it up, Fras?” Gavin keeps grinning. I assume he means boxing. Fuck, but I’d love to demonstrate all the hours I’ve spent training right now, right on his damned bloody face.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Colin grins and walks over to clasp hands with Gavin in that aggressive, grappling gesture I remember from my American childhood. “You forget the date, asshole?” Colin says this affectionately. “We’re not on until Saturday.”

Of course Gavin is still boxing. He looks over at me, that easy-going, boyish charm in full effect. He can make anyone see the best in him. He’s talented in that way.

“Popped in to say hi, but what a coincidence.” Gavin enters, his hand held out to me. “This man and I go way back. All the way to college.”

Yes, that one study abroad year at Cambridge. I was the one who introduced Gavin to boxing. Who introduced him to many things that I loved.

How I regret those introductions now.

“No shit?” Colin shakes his head, whistling. “You two assholes used to spar together?”

“All the time.” Gavin keeps smiling; now I’m the one who looks like a raging dickhead. As usual.

“Boxing is a passion we share.” I say it politely.

“Not the only thing we share.”

Now there’s some primal part of me that wants to grab this man by his shirt and throw him headfirst out the window, onto Olympic Boulevard. I clench my hands as best I can in these boxing gloves.

Emma. Could he be talking about Emma?

“You two want to spar, for old time’s sake?” Colin hands Gavin a pair of gloves and a mouth guard. At first, I consider saying no as neutrally as possible. But Gavin seems so eager to play. I nod in agreement, and within minutes we’re ready. Gavin moves back and forth with that lithe, easy grace of his. He was always the quicker of the two of us.

In more ways than one.

“Been too long, Fras.” He taps gloves against mine as we begin. Since he’s wearing a mouth guard, those weren’t the easiest words to catch, but catch them I did. A pressure builds behind my eyes.

Fras. The sound of friendship, of when it was only the three of us. Gavin, Gillian, and me. Closing down every pub in Cambridge. Studying blearily, well into the early morning hours. Gillian’s tears when he had to go back to America. And then he returned after graduation, to relive the old times.

And how we lived then.

I circle him, remembering that I’m not the one to land a fast blow. No, I have to draw him out. He needs to feel comfortable and confident. When I was younger, I made the mistake of feeling too much. I revealed the soft, vulnerable bits…and no, I don’t simply mean my balls.

I have had much time since then to protect myself—and safeguard my testicles.

Gavin jabs, and I let a few of his blows land. That draws him in closer. That gives him the taste of victory already. Gavin’s flaw is his ease: he believes himself to be better than everyone he meets. Faster. Quicker. Slyer.

People that confident can find they’ve underestimated their opponent.

I let him push me back, back to the edge of the mat…and then I send out a small jab, to catch him off guard. He doesn’t suspect it when I lean back and deliver a mean right hook across his face. Gavin’s head whips to the side, and the mouth guard goes flying. He collapses back onto the mat, coughing and touching at the swollen, tenderized point where my blow landed. Colin stands at the edge of the mat, one eyebrow cocked.

“Got some real power, Fraser. I haven’t seen that before.”

That’s because I don’t have a reason to want to murder you, Colin. Gavin looks up at me from his place on the mat, and for one instant I get to see that mask of his fall. The charming, grinning, easygoing fellow disappears and a raw, cold intensity breaks through. Gavin never liked it when things didn’t go his way. Not when we were young, and not now.

Then, probably for Colin’s benefit, that shit-eating grin reappears. Gavin extends a hand, a silent offer to be helped up. Like a pal. Like two good friends who enjoy beating the fuck out of each other.

I don’t extend a hand. Colin grunts, comes over and clasps Gavin’s hand. He helps his other pupil up, while looking at me with cool detachment. Of course, he’ll have found himself on Gavin’s particular team now. That’s the way it is with people.

The way it always has been.

“Take it easy, Fraser. No need to lose your fucking mind.” Colin walks back, giving Gavin time to excuse me. To make himself look saintly in comparison.

“Fras likes to play tough. It’s one thing I admire about him.” Gavin clasps my hand in that wrestling battle for domination we call a handshake in this country. He leans in a little closer, so that it’s hard for Colin to hear. “You got a firm grip, man. Of course, you know what they say about guys who hold on too tight?” He releases me at last. “Whatever they want slips through their fingers.”

And Gavin Walker is always so easy to let go whatever he doesn’t want.

“We should do this more often.” I still have the greater height, and this is my fucking session. Time for the extra man in the room to get the hell out. Gavin moves away for the door, and I think I’ll have the last word. Of course, I should learn at this point that that’s simply too much to hope for.

“Let’s call this round one,” Gavin says, grinning before he exits.

If I know anything about Gavin, it’s that he won’t give up a fight until it’s finished. And currently, the one battleground we share is Emma.