Physical Communication

Chapter 6

I wipe the sweat from my face with my shirt. It’s been a long day at the gym. There is another fight coming up; a small low key beginner’s level type, but Scout was still pushing a few guys hard because to him a fight is a fight no matter the title. I tried to get Adam to put his name on the roster but he opted out. I just shrug it off, his choice. 

I down my water bottle and watch Adam finish his sparring. He has gotten better but I need to up his leg training. I knew from the beginning he was initially only trained in boxing. But if he wants to make it in MMA he will need to work on his feet and kicks. I walk to the locker room to change and start cleaning up for the night. 

When I walk out of the locker room I find the place has thinned out a lot. It’s not a big surprise only the real fighters stick around this late on a Saturday. Those who use the gym for only fitness reasons are long gone. I am a little surprised to find Adam still going at one of the heavy bags. I smile to myself when I see him practice a spinning back-kick. He hits his mark but the bag barely moves. As much as I would love to watch him I know I can’t fixate on him too much and I have work to do. 

Everything is put away and cleaned up. I lock up. I don’t want to go home. I walked to work today because the weather was nice. So I decide to walk over to the bar. It’s our usual place to go mainly because of its location so close to the gym and our apartments. I’d rather sit here, have a bite to eat and a drink, than go home to my quiet apartment. I reach for the door handle but stop when my eyes catch something through the window. Blair and Adam sitting at the bar together. I drop my hand as my feet keep moving, carrying me away. 

I walk…I walk for a while. I internally debate whether I need to go back to the gym and let off some steam or just go home. Why do I want to hit something? I’m not mad…I  shouldn’t be mad. I can’t be mad. They are both good, single people. Why shouldn’t they hang out? Neither one knows how I feel about him. Even if they did I have no claim on him. Right? If they like each other, good for them. My feet finally bring me home and I go straight to bed. I am done with this day. 

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I walk into the gym and smile at Scout. I look around and find Adam already warmed up and starting to spar with one of the other fighters. I’m a little surprised to see him so early. We technically don’t start for another twenty minutes. I watch him for a few minutes. He isn’t starting off easy; he dives right in. I hope he doesn’t use up all that energy before we start. I head to the locker room to get myself ready. Once I change and check my mailbox in the office, I sit down next to the ring so I can watch Adam while I wrap my own hands. 

It takes a moment but when he jabs and misses I see it. 

“Stop!”

Everyone close enough to me drops their gloves, except Adam. I'm about to yell again before I realize my stupid mistake. As I am climbing through the ropes he drops his hands, looking at his opponent with confusion. He turns to look at me. He gives me a dirty off look for disrupting his practice but I am way more pissed off. 

[Lockers Now!]

I don’t say or do anything else before turning and stomping off to the locker room. I don’t look back to see if he is following because God help me if he doesn’t he’s out the door. I take a deep breath and pace a couple of times before he walks in. 

[Sit.]

I know he isn’t happy and his posture is all defensive but I don’t give a shit. He hesitates but when he sees I’m not stepping down he sits on the bench. 

[Show me your hands]

He looks down and sees the blood soaking through his wraps. He just shrugs.

[It’s nothing.]

[Unwrap them! If it was nothing you wouldn't be bleeding.]

He doesn't move to unwrap his hands so I drop down in front of him and do it. He pulls his hand away and finally does it himself. Once I see the look of his first hand I stand to retrieve the first aid kit. 

[You're lucky Scout didn't see this or you'd be out]

[They are fine]

I grab his hand and start cleaning them before bandaging them up. I look up at him every once in a while but he won't make eye contact with me. When I'm done I close the kit and put it off to the side. 

[What happened?]

[Nothing]

I roll my eyes. I was fourteen when I got my first set of bloody knuckles and it doesn’t happen by nothing. It usually comes from the expense of someone else's face. 

[We have a strict no fighting outside of the ring policy here. Those are your money makers right now, not just a way of communicating anymore. Take better care of them.]

He stays quiet. His lack of guilt or really any emotion just pisses me off more. 

[Go home. We are not working today with your hands like this.]

[No, I'm fine]

[It’s not an option. Leave now, heal up, and come back. Or I tell Scout about your extracurricular activities and he kicks you out]

He gets up and storms to his locker, nearly breaking it in the process of cleaning it out, then leaves. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I won't lie we have been off all week, ever since I saw him at the bar with Blair, but this was a whole new level of pissed off at him. Thinking of Blair I pull out my cell phone and call her.

"Hello?" She answers.

"What the fuck happened to Adam last night?!" I shout at her.

I know she hasn't done anything wrong but my blood is still pumping.

"Excuse me. What do you mean?"

"I know you two went out again last night. Then today he shows up with busted up knuckles."

"Yes, we went out last night, but he was fine, his hands were fine, when we parted. Is he ok?"

"He's fine. So you have no idea what happened?'

"No, sorry. I can ask."

"No, I'll figure it out. Thanks."

I am so deep in thought I dont even say goodbye before hanging up. Well now I have some free time since Adam left. I should go work some of this steam off.