One of the Boys ✔️

XXV

Hit. Hit. Hit.

I was at the boxing gym. The advanced class finished about twenty minutes ago, but I hadn't wanted to go home yet. Instead, I chose to wrap my hands, don my gloves and tackle one of the boxing bags lining the wall of the gym.

David was right when he said that the advanced class was more difficult. If I thought that I'd been sweating before, it was nothing compared to now. There had actually been rivulets of sweat flowing between my breasts, and every inch of skin was soaked. But I'd loved every second of it; the burning in my muscles, the pride and success I felt when I pushed through the mental resistance and completed a round.

Now, all I could feel was the pounding of my heart against my ribcage as I threw punch after punch at the bag in front of me.

Double jab.

Cross.

Short upper.

Cross.

"Good," David said from behind me. "Good focus. Good power."

David had been wandering through the gym, commenting on people's progress and giving advice where it was needed. He'd already reminded me several times to use my hips, keep my feet moving and pivot my back foot whenever I threw a cross.

It was easy to get sucked into the monotonous rhythm of boxing. I wasn't focused on training as much as I was directing all of my efforts into the next punch. I'd been repeating the same nine movements over and over. It was what we'd focused on during the session, and now I was cementing it in my memory.

Double jab.

Cross.

Short upper.

Cross.

Duck, weave, and hook.

Hook.

Uppercut.

Uppercut.

Sweat beaded on my upper lip as I powered through the movements again, and again, and again.

"Alright, that's enough for today." David stepped up from behind me to halt the bag's progress mid-swing. "You've been at the bag for almost an hour."

I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, cringing internally at the wetness I found there. "That long?"

David nodded, inspecting me. "Got something on your mind, kiddo?"

I shook my head, averting my eyes. "I guess I just zoned out."

I refused to admit, even to myself, that I was anxious about Ethan. He hadn't made a reappearance, and it was leaving me more frazzled than I'd care to admit. I winced as I unwrapped my hands, and David tutted in front of me before gently grabbing my hand and inspecting it himself.

"You're hitting with the wrong knuckles," he said, slowly parting my fingers to look at the raw skin between my ring and pinky fingers. My skin was dotted with small beads of blood from where it had been rubbed raw. "You need to angle your wrist a bit more, like this. That way you're punching with your index and middle fingers instead of these two."

I nodded, grateful for the advice. I had learned so much already and I'd been here barely a week. I said goodbye to David and Kesha and chucked my jumper over my head before beginning the walk home. I savoured the cool night air on my flushed skin. It felt heavenly. While the intermediate class ran in the morning, the advanced class didn't start until 6 pm, meaning the sun had almost always set by the time I finally emerged from the gym.