Win.
“Shaun O’Shaughnessy?” Lucky’s full on laughing now.
“And let’s not forget about Donal McDougall.”
“Jesus.” Lucky shakes his head, still laughing. “You’re crazy, Becklyn.”
“Crazy like afox.” I punch my hands together again and bounce from foot to foot. Gah! I can’t wait to hit something. “Ooh,” I say with a gleam. “That could be my boxing name. The Irish Fox.”
Tapping the top of my head with his boxing glove, he says, “Alright, Foxy. Show me what you’ve got.”
Lucky takes me to the back of the large, open gym space to a boxing bag that’s suspended from the ceiling. He demonstrates how to stand, with my feet apart, one of them back a little bit to give me support. I do as he instructs. “Like this?”
“Yeah, but…” He leans down and taps my right knee with his glove. “Move this one back a little.” Once I’m set up, he shows me how to jab. He starts off slow but speeds up until his fists move so fast you hardly see his movements. “Now you.”
“Okay.” I sigh. Stepping closer to the bag, I check my feet again, hold the gloves up in front of my face like he did, and I punch the bag. Hard.
“Good job,” Lucky says with a smile. “Now, do it again three times in a row, like this.” Bam-bam-bam. I hear his glove make contact with the bag in rapid succession.
Getting back into position, I do it. I hit the bag three times as fast as I can.
“Slow down. Form is more important than speed. You don’t want to hit the bag the wrong way; you could hurt yourself.” He nods at the bag. “Try it again.”
I do as he says, I punch the bag. Once he’s satisfied with my form, he moves over to his own bag, while I hit mine about a million times with my right hand—after which he tells me to do the same with my left.
By the time I’m done, I’m sweaty and certain I’m going to be sore tomorrow, but it was fun. Actually, it was the most fun I’ve ever had working out. Pulling off the gloves, I take a seat on a bench not far from where Lucky is working out. He’s punching his own bag, but his workout is nothing like mine, because he’s punching and moving around the bag like he’s dancing with the thing. It’s incredible.
When he sees me, he stops suddenly and smiles. At me. A big smile like the one earlier. I take a moment to stare at his teeth. I’ve always thought he had the best smile. It’s not perfect, mind you. He’s got one tooth on the top that’s a little crooked, which only makes his smile more endearing.
“You done?”
I’m jerked from my thoughts at his question. Shrugging, I say, “I guess.”
His expression changes to something expectant. “You like it?”
“I did. I really liked it.” Standing up, I move closer to his bag. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had working up a sweat.”
Lucky’s face suddenly morphs. His eyes get round, and I swear he’s blushing.
What?
What’d I say?
“Maybe I can come again?”
Lucky suddenly turns and walks over to his gym bag.
What?
What’d I say?
“Lucky?”
“Yeah?” he’s bent over, reaching for his water bottle.
What was I going to say?Think of something, Becklyn.“Are you finished?”
He chokes on the water, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what his deal is.
