Heteronym

Chapter 4

My heart was pounding in my ears and in my veins, a constant thud in beat with the rap music in the background. The smell of rubber filled my nose. I always found it oddly comforting. I knew they didn't get you high, but the closest smell I could relate it to is huffing sharpies. It just felt like a good chemical smell; not that I go around huffing sharpies. Please, don't do that. It's dangerous.

But that's besides the point. I loved the smell of the rubber in weight rooms. I was bouncing on the balls of me feet on a red mat, black gloves on my hands to protect my knuckles. My fists were clenched and my knees bent with a black mouth guard in my mouth to prevent my teeth from getting knocked out. That wasn't an attractive look for anyone.

My eyes were zeroed in on Taylor, watching the man twice my size with focus so intense I could probably legitimately burn him with lasers radiating from my pupils. I saw his weight shift a millisecond before his foot swung up at my head. My body ducked low, popping back up with a jab to his jaw, keeping my fists high to protect my face. I faked a left hook, kicking Taylor in the side of the head with my right foot as he went to dodge it.

The move caught him off guard. I took the slight stall in his movements to turn and sweep a kick under his left leg. Taylor was so much bigger than me that I had to turn halfway around to get enough momentum. It knocked Taylor on his ass, all one hundred ninety pounds of him. His body thudded against the mat as I scrambled swiftly to straddle his waist, force jolting down my right arm as I punched his fists over his face.

Taylor's long legs wrapped around my waist under my arms, surprising me as he used the force to slam my lighter body down onto the mat, air leaving my lungs in a huff on impact. I was so stunned from the suddenly slamming of my back that Taylor was able to get up off the ground but not before I swung both my legs around and knocked the back of both of his knees.

Taylor fell forwards, leading on his knees while I got up, punching him in the side of the head but not hard enough to hurt him; that wasn't the point of sparing. His arms wrapped around my waist and throw me back on the ground before I could kick him. I put my hands on his shoulders with all my force and rolled over while sweeping his knees out from under him, pinning his arms to the mat with my knees as I delivered two swift punches to his face before Taylor tapped out on the mat three times.

I exhaled, climbing off of him and offering a hand to help the captain up. He took it with a grateful look on his face. I was too gullible to realize it before it happened, but I'd set myself up for Taylor's strong arms to pull my body to the ground. Jokes on him though; I landed right in his stomach with a thud. I grunt left his lips as I laughed. "You're and idiot, Nowak." I only partially meant it; he was a genius when it came to hockey.

"And you're a fat ass," he groaned as we both got up off the floor. My breath was heaving as I took a water bottle and squirted the cold liquid in my mouth. I much rather preferred this cardio to running, that was for sure.

"Lets go again," I nodded at Tyler who was already shaking his head, his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

"No. I'm meant to punch people in the face not dodge a midget with feet of furry."

"I kicked you twice."

"Three times," he corrected before looking around the gym filled with hockey players. When his mahogany eyes settled on Beck at a red punching bag, taking out all his anger from this morning with his powerful jabs as Luka held the bag. We had both chosen fighting over running for what I assume to be the same reasons; frustration and anger, just like the time we went to that rock concert. "Sampson!" Taylor called through his cupped hands.

My boyfriend paused, turning around and raking his fingers through his black hair, wearing the same gloves we were. All the guys practiced shirtless but I couldn't help but ogle Beck's perfectly symmetrically and glistening abs, looking like he was straight out of a magazine. They weren't bulging disgustingly, but they were definitely defined and very aesthetically pleasing without looking unnatural. God, I could stare at Beck's body all day. It was a shame his V-line was covered by his black shorts.