“I’m not going to hurt him. I’ll let him burn off some steam and hopefully get this stupid-as-fuck idea out of his head.”
“What’s with that? Surely he knows Bryson isn’t going to let him fight? He’s barely out of diapers.”
Kye snickered at that, but I rolled my eyes. “He’s sixteen, Z. Remember us at that age?”
“Nix is right. We were cocky little punks, thinking we always knew best. And Nix was already fighting by then.”
“That’s different. It’s Nix. This is…” Zane glanced over at Max and ground his teeth together. “He’s one of them.”
“Yeah, it’s weird as fuck, but he isn’t going to quit until he gets his five minutes in the ring, so why not let him have it?” I shrugged, retrieving some wrap off the sideboard running one length of the wall.
“I thought we had to wear gloves?” Max said over my shoulder.
“No, I said you had to wear gloves. Ever had a bare fist come at you before?” He rolled his lips together in a half-snarl, and I added, “Where’s your helmet?”
“Come on, Wilder. I’m not a total pussy. I’ll go easy on you.”
A couple of guys nearby heard Max’s taunt and snickered. I shot them a hard look that soon had them quieting down.
“Last chance to back out?” I said.
“No fucking way.”
“Just tell me one thing,” I said, lowering my voice. “Why? Why come here at all? Surely, your side of town has somewhere you can work out?”
Hell, I bet he had his own personal gym at home.
He dropped his head a little and I was sure he said, “Because I need it to hurt.”
But when he looked back at me, it was like the words were never there.
“You’re hesitating,” I baited Max as we danced around one another in circles. We’d drawn a crowd, but then, I usually did when I stepped into Bryson’s sparring ring.
“Just getting a feel for you, Wilder. Don’t worry, I’ll ruin that pretty face of yours soon enough.” His lips twisted with amusement.
“You talk a good talk, Maxy boy,” I teased, darting forward and jabbing his face. He ducked, rolling away from my punch. The little fucker was quick.
Really damn quick.
“Get him, Nix,” someone yelled. “Teach the little punk a lesson.”
I glanced over at Zane and Kye. Wrong fucking move. Max came at me with lightning speed, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone as they smashed into my face.
“Fuck,” I grunted, leaping backward. “That was a sly move.”
“Boo hoo.” He chuckled.
Oh, it was on now.
We circled each other again, trying to learn the other’s weaknesses. I hadn’t actually expected him to know what the fuck he was doing, but it was all there in his posture: the way he bounced lightly on his feet, and held his hands up to protect his face.
Max Rowe knew how to fight, and it had me all kinds of curious.
He lunged again, his fist crunching against my shoulder as I dodged his uppercut. “I won’t fall for that again, asshole,” I drawled, baiting him.
It worked and he came at me harder, faster, growing sloppy. I deflected most of his shots, only a couple making contact. But my body was used to the flash and spark of pain, it reveled in it.
“You have skill, kid. But you’re overconfident.”