“Tell me you’re in town,” I say. “I need to clear my head, man.”
I’ve already hit the weights in my home gym, but it didn’t do shit. I still need to hit something, or at least talk to someone.
“You’re in luck. Gym in thirty?”
I glance at my watch, calculating the drive.
“Bet.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling up in front of the boxing gym where we usually spar. It’s been shut down for renovations for the past few weeks, but since Justin owns the place, he’s got the keys, and I know he’ll let us in.
“Dun dun da-dunnn…”
I stop cold.
This fucker.
“You’re not serious.”
Sure enough, Justin’s right behind me, humming the wedding march like an idiot, smirk already locked and loaded like he’s been waiting all day for this. My engagement caught them all off guard, and I know they’re calling bullshit in their heads. They just haven’t said it out loud yet, which I’m grateful for because if they do, I’ll have to lie straight to their faces.
“Really?” I deadpan, arching a brow.
He throws an arm around my shoulder, all charm and zero shame.
“C’mon, fiancé. Gotta keep you loose for the big day. If you freeze on that aisle, you’re going to end up a meme. A tragic one.”
“Keep talking and I’ll forget to pull my punches,” I say, the threat empty but satisfying.
“Hey, I’m just saying, you might want to rehearse that walk. Wouldn’t want you tripping in front of the entire guest list,” he says, laughing as he pulls a key from his pocket.
He unlocks the gym door with a practiced flick of his wrist, and the place creaks open like it’s been waiting for us. The air inside smells faintly of fresh paint and vinyl.
“After you, bridezilla,” he adds with a mock bow.
I roll my eyes and walk in, already pulling off my gym bag.
“Keep it up, asshole. Let’s see who’s laughing after a few rounds.”
“Bring it,” he fires back, dropping his bag and starting to wrap his hands.
The gym is modern with state-of-the-art facilities with a gritty, authentic atmosphere that pays homage to the sport’s roots. Upon entering, you’re greeted by a spacious, well-lit area with high ceilings and industrial-style exposed beams. The floors are polished concrete, easy to clean, and durable enough to withstand the toughest training sessions.
To the left, a row of high-tech treadmills and stationary bikes lines the wall, equipped with digital screens for tracking progress and streaming motivational content. Adjacent to this cardio zone, a series of sleek, adjustable weight machines and free weights cater to strength training needs. The gym’s centerpiece, however, is the full-sized boxing ring, elevated on a platform with reinforced ropes and cushioned flooring, ready for intense sparring sessions.
Surrounding the ring, multiple heavy bags, speed bags, and double-end bags hang from sturdy steel frames. Each bag is crafted from high-quality, tear-resistant material, ensuring longevity and consistent performance. The walls are adorned with large mirrors, allowing boxers to perfect their form and technique, while motivational posters and historic fight photos provide inspiration.
In the back, you’ll find well-maintained locker rooms with sleek showers, digital lockers, and amenities like fresh towels and toiletries.
“Ready to go, man?” Justin asks, tightening the laces on his gloves with a sly grin.
I return the grin, feeling that familiar rush of competitive fire. “Always.”
We step into the ring, a pristine square bordered by red and white ropes, the floor marked with years of wear but sturdy beneath our feet. The high ceilings and exposed beams of the gym add a rugged, industrial vibe, while bright lights shine down, illuminating every inch of the space. It’s the perfect place to settle into the rhythm of a good fight.
We tap gloves, eyes locked in a silent promise of a battle to come. Justin moves first, throwing a couple of testing jabs. I block them easily, my arms absorbing the impact like it’s nothing. I counter with a quick hook, just to see if he’s awake, and sure enough, he dodges it with his usual practiced finesse. We’re circling each other, our bodies moving in sync, both knowing every step of this dance from years of practice.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you, or do I need to beat it out of you?” he asks. His tone is light, but there’s that edge of curiosity underneath.
