I woke up like I always did, but something was...off. Before I even opened my eyes I could already tell it was going to be a shit day. I tried to talk myself out of it; how could I possibly know that? I wasn't psychic. Yet even that was irking me, the fact that I was forcing myself to be calm and collected.

I opened my eyes, alarmed to find it was ten AM already. I lurched out of bed and was furious. Not bothering to get dressed I stormed out of my room in my grey flannel pants, old grey t-shirt, and with my hair pointing every direction I was sure.

"Ma!" I barked out.

"I'm in the kitchen sweetie!"

I was like a bull in a China shop. The second ma honed her eyes on me, she froze. I pointed at the clock that hung above the kitchen sink.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I demanded.

"I wanted to let you sleep as much as you wanted. I didn't want to wake you, given today-"

I point at her. "Don't," I tell her and then turn on my heel and leave.

Taking a cold shower didn't make me feel better. I tried switching to a hot shower, but that only pissed me off, going from one extreme to the other. Instead of feeling rejuvenated and relaxed, I was agitated and annoyed.

I got dressed, slipped on my jeans jacket, and grabbed my board. Without saying a word I left, slamming the front door behind me. I was off as soon as my skateboard hit the ground.

I went to the skateboard park and became even more annoyed. There were kids here. What the fuck, shouldn't they be in school? So after skating around awhile, just becoming angrier and angrier, I decided to leave.

Aimlessly I skated around town. Frankly even that was bothering me. I didn't know what to do with myself; all my friends were either working or at school. I briefly considered going to the shop and helping out my dad, but I feared I'd end up lobbing a wrench at his head with the mood I was in.

A jolt of frightened panic hit me. What if Jon had lied? What if he wasn't really going to Oxford? Suddenly the thought made me grin. If he was here, I'd like nothing more than to beat the shit out of him. Might make me feel a bit better, anyway.

So, my aimless wandering around town turned into a hunt. I went to all the places I knew he hung out. I even went so far as to go to his house. Apparently he really had left, because a realtor sign had been staked in front. I should have felt relieved. My one-time abusive ex was out of the country-and my life-for good. Yet all it did was disappoint me.

Logically I knew I was being irrational. I knew that, deep down in my core, this was not me. This anger that was coming at me from every angle, well...While I wasn't exactly surprised by it, it just made me livid that I was having difficulty managing it today.

I needed to blow off some major steam. Twenty minutes later I was at the local gym, my board at home, and I was dressed in a exercise outfit.

"Hey Tristan!" the guy who ran the shop, Billy, greeted me. "I heard you were in town!"

"Yeah," I grumble, not even having it in me to attempt niceties.

Billy looks a little confused when I walk past him. "Well, good seeing you..."

Usually when I come here I'll do some cardio. They had a really nice, smooth, three-lane indoor track. If I wasn't feeling that, I would go for a swim. Whenever those options never felt good to me, I would head upstairs usually to the dance rooms. Here I would either, well, dance obviously, or do some yoga.

None of that appealed to me. Instead I went to a section I rarely went to-the back. Here was where there were weights and gym equipment. It also was where they have kickboxing lessons and had a wrestling/boxing ring.

I did some simple stretches, making sure I was limber. Then I took up a jump rope, doing that until I had worked up a good, clean sweat. Finally, I started doing what I had set out to do. I wrapped my hands while positioning myself in front of a punching bag.

I didn't know much about fighting. I knew how to throw a punch, but that was about it, really. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I took a few jabs. I always forgot how absolutely heavy these things were. I squat down a moment, making sure my groin area wasn't stiff, and then I kicked the bag lightly.

After some warm up, I start beating the bag harder and harder. As I do, my mind races. I can taste the sweat in my mouth, feel the back of my hair become damp and then soaked. I'm barely aware of these sensations, wrapped up in my thoughts, enslaved to them.

Why was I so angry? Gee, let's see.

The boyfriend that I loved dearly had tried to commit suicide.

Punch

My jackass first boyfriend showed up punch and grabbed me again. Punch punch

My mom was quickly becoming an alcoholic punch punch if she wasn't already. Kick

My dad punch punch kick hadn't spoken to me punch punch punch punch punch outside of the fucking shop punch punch punch kick punch since that first night home. Hard punch

I pause, shaking my hand out. That last one hurt. I flex my fingers, reminding myself that I don't actually know what I'm doing, so I have to be careful. After sucking on my knuckle a second, I go right back to it.

I'm leading on punch a really sweet guy punch punch who I knew would never compare to Orion. punch kick kick kick

What the fuck was I doing with my life? Why the fuck was I back in Texas? My friends were busy with their own lives punch I hated my parents punch (and the feeling was mutual I'm sure, punch punch) there wasn't anything here for me in this stupid city growl punch punch punch punch punch punch punch except a gravestone with my brother's name on it!

I didn't mean to scream, but I did. I pulled my arm back, ready to punch the sand out of the bag. But I never make contact. Instead I'm shocked when someone grabs my fist and holds it, inches away from the bag.

I look over. Lee is looking at me evenly. For a minute we just stand there like that, me panting and sweating, Lee holding my fist.

"Had I let you make contact with the bag, you would've broken something, for sure."

Lee lets go of my hand. I blink sweat out of my eyes and merely look at my friend.

"You could have called," he tells me finally, quietly, his voice deep.

"I thought you were in school," I pant. "Why the fuck aren't you in school?"

"Incase this happened," he replies, gesturing up and down at me and the bag.

I roll my eyes. "I don't need a God damned babysitter."

I try to walk away, but Lee stops me with his body. He smirks a little. "No, but you definitely could use a kickboxing instructor."

I raise my eyebrow. "Wait-for real?"

Lee slings his arm around my shoulders, guiding me over to the drinking fountains. "I'd love to teach you kickboxing. With how easily you pick up every other sport, you'll be good to go in no time."

As I drink great gulps of water, Lee waits for me. He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed. When I'm done I stand, wiping my mouth off against my hand. I look him up and down. When I speak, I let my eyes drop.

"You remembered?"

"It's not every day your best friend's brother dies. Of course I'm going to remember the date."

For awhile all I can do is stand there awkwardly. I don't know what to do, or what to say. I kinda don't want to say anything at all. So, Lee does the talking for me.

"Are you okay? No, that was stupid, it's the anniversary of losing your brother. Can I do anything?"

And just like that, knowing that I had someone who cared about me, who remembered to check in on me...Someone who hadn't gone to their college courses incase I needed them...Just like that, my anger evaporated, and I grinned.

"Yeah-teach me kickboxing."