Tristan glares at his best friend. "Hardly," he says drily. "Consider it a check-in so I know what's going on with you." He rubs his lower back and grumbles, "And so I know when to prepare myself for your alpha moods."
I shake my head with a chuckle. People often assume fighters are just barbarians that want to beat up everyone they can get their hands on, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
Most fighters hate sparring hard. Punching others in the face meansgettingpunched in the face. No one ever thinks of that part.
Or of getting thrown across the mat.
"Alright, first person to three takedowns buys lunch," Tristan growls, crouching into a wrestling stance and starting to circle the still-grinning Jax.
"You're on, asshole."
When I leave them to make my way to the other end of the gym, and by the time I push the door to the locker rooms open, all I hear is Tristan's shout of surprise, followed by Jax's raucous laughter.
"Fucking children," I hear a female voice mutter from the hallway.
I'm still laughing under my breath when the door opens again. A massive, tattooed stranger steps into the changing room, someone I've never seen and that definitely doesn't seem like he's been to this gym before. His hair is buzzed and his lips are turned down into a scowl, making him the epitome of unapproachable.
Still, it's not in my nature to ignore anyone. "Hey," I offer, lifting my chin at the new guy.
He only glares in my direction as he rips one of the lockers open.
Mentally shrugging off the interaction, I turn toward my own locker. God knows we've had enough people pass through here that don't stick, I'm hardly going to give more of my energy to the ones that clearly don't mesh with the gym vibe. I simply grab the equipment I need for today's workout and throw the rest of my gym bag into the locker.
When I eventually leave angry boy in the locker room, everyone's already gathered on the mat for today's jiu-jitsu lesson. Tristan and Jax in particular are already sweating as they wait for Coach to start class.
"So who's buying lunch?" I whisper with a grin as I approach the two of them.
Tristan aims a glare at his best friend. Jax simply lets a shameless grin slide onto his face, looking every bit the gleeful winner as he says, "I feel like going to Huda for lunch today. I'm in the mood for a good sandwich."
"You're lucky I like Jehuda's food enough to take you there," Tristan grumbles.
We go through a warmup like normal, our noon class filled with the pro fighters as it usually is, and then we're working jiu-jitsu drills with our partners.
I give Max my usualwe're partnerslook, and grab him for the exercise that we're starting with. It only takes a few reps to get the hang of the move, to get comfortable enough that I start chatting.
"So what're we doing this weekend? Want to go to Maxi's?" I grin when I realize something. "I want to go to Maxi's with Max."
My best friend rolls his eyes at the same time that he throws my legs over his shoulder and passes to my side. "Since when are you so dead set on partying on Temple's campus?"
"I like the music," I mumble half-heartedly.
"Liar," he accuses. Then he's resetting us to the starting position and starting all over again. "You're searching for that chick you met last week on campus."
At the reminder of Dani, my limbs go stiff. Yes, I've been hoping to run into her, but I'm not consciously trying to see her again. That would be insane. I'm a 22-year-old guy, for God's sake. It’s practically required of me to be young and single.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I grit out, combating his move and flipping us into a different position. "I just like the vibe over there."
I don't miss the eye roll that my best friend gives me. It's his usualI'm over your shitlook that he gives me whenever I'm pushing one of my schemes too far.
"Dude, if she wanted to see you again, she would've given you her number," he says, resetting us to the original position.
And as much as I want to smash him, I also know he's right.
"You would be doing the same thing if a chick had blown your mind," I grumble.
"Aiden and Max," a voice barks from the other side of the mat. We turn to our coach, a guilty look already on our faces. "Anything you'd like to share with the class?"
"No, sir," we mumble, properly chastised.