Then looked across the ring at me.
“You ready to talk,” he said calmly, locking the straps of his gloves, “or are you just trying to kill something tonight?”
I clicked my two gloves together as if that were the answer to his question, then gestured him forward with the crook of one glove.I was in no mood to talk.
“If I wanted to talk about it,” I said flatly, “we wouldn’t be here.”
Benji’s mouth curved into a crooked smirk.
“Oh,” he said lightly.“So this isn’t your way of saying you miss getting your ass kicked in the ring?”
I scoffed and lifted my fists into position.“Keep talking.”
Benji grinned.“Same rules apply.”
And then he launched at me.
His first punch came fast.I barely blocked it before his second one followed, and just like that, the gym filled with the sharp smack of gloves against forearms and ribs.
Round one was brutal.
Benji was faster tonight.
Or maybe my head wasn’t fully in it yet.
Either way, he caught me twice in the ribs and once along the jaw before the timer on his watch beeped.
“Round,” he said calmly, stepping back.
I wiped the sweat starting to gather on my forehead and rolled my neck.
Round two started a few seconds later.
This time I went in harder.
Anger finally found an outlet.
My punches landed heavier, faster, driving Benji back a step as I caught him across the shoulder and then square in the chest.
He grunted.
“Better.”
I took the second round.
By the third, the rhythm of it had taken over.
Punch.
Block.
Slip.
Strike.
The sound of hard plastic echoed through the empty gym as we circled each other.Benji caught me with a clean hit to the side of my ribs that made me suck in a breath.
He took round three.
