“I’m Naomi’s trainer. We… I mean, Naomi is participating in this year’s amateur tournaments. She's building her reputation. We hope next year she can go pro.” He looks over at Boris, smirking. “And since you two are the same weight, we thought this would be a good fit.”
I cross my arms in front of me. “Aren’t there any other prospects for you to pick from? Why me?”
“The tournament starts next month, and I want her to train with as many other opponents as she can. Since we’re here in town for a week, I reached out to Boris and asked if he has a fighter ready for a fight.”
It’s like she can read my mind. Her voice slices straight through my thoughts. “It’s just a friendly fight.” Naomi’s blue eyes narrow, and I think I see resentment in them, but it's gone before I can be sure.
“Boris?” I call his name so he can look at me and maybe help me with whatever this is.
“I think…” He clears his throat. “I think this could work, and it would be good for you to get experience.”
I nod, even though I have a bad feeling about this. “If you say so.”
“Great.” Victor rubs his hands together. “Naomi will go change so she can warm up before we start.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Now?”
“Yes, why not? We don’t have much time.”
Naomi says nothing as she turns around and walks toward the changing room, swaying her hips.
“You should keep on warming up. Don’t cool off,” Boris says before he turns and walks toward his office, leaving me with Victor.
I try to ignore Victor staring at me, and how I want to punch him in the face because every time his eyes roam my body, a sickening crawl moves under my skin.
“So, how long have you been training?”
“Here or in general?” I pick up a rope in an attempt to get him away from me, thinking he will get a clue.
“In general. I know from Boris that you have been here for just a few months.”
“Eight years,” I say, leaving out the fact that I trained alone for most of those years.
He smiles. “You don’t look that old. You started early, I assume.”
I smile tightly. “Something like that.” He doesn’t need to know my past. I just need to stay polite enough to get this over with, even if my gut is telling me that something stinks in this whole situation.
The corners of his lips lift in a smile. “So, how old are you?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Does it matter?”
“Don’t get offended; I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“I don’t feel like talking. So, if you don’t mind, I will keep myself warm.” I don’t wait for his answer and walk to the opposite side of the room, where I can jump rope, ignore Victor, and focus on my strategy.
I slip aside and hook Naomi in the ribs as her long arm snaps a jab toward me. Her eyes narrow, and I smirk when I see her anger. This is just a start. I shouldn’t be smirking, but there is something about her I can’t figure out.
She lunges at me and lands a clean punch with her elbow in my face.
“Keep it clean. There’s no one here for the show,” Boris shouts. Naomi smirks.
I clench my jaw, feeling the burn on my cheek. A warm line of blood cuts down my face. So, she's playing dirty. I focus on my footing, letting her cheer her dirty move. If she thinks I’m going to play like her, she's going to be disappointed.
I focus on every kick, every dirty trick she throws, headbutts, shoves, and even when hit, I answer with sharper counters. After four rounds, I’m still holding on, ignoring the look in Naomi's eyes like I’m dirt under her shoe. I catch her sneer that matches the desperation in her eyes as she drives her shoulder into my ribs, leaving me out of breath. I exhale sharply, keeping my ribstight to prevent collapse. I pivot slightly onto the hit, shrugging my shoulder to catch part of the blow. I twist my body just enough so that my ribs don’t take the full impact. While Naomi is still in her momentum, I roll out, cover my ribs with my elbow, and fire back with an uppercut.
Boris steps between us. His back is to me as he speaks to Victor and Naomi. “That’s it. I didn’t agree to your playing dirty and hurting my fighter.”
“Oh, don’t be mad, Boris. This is just a friendly play.”
