"SEE YOU ALL next time, and make sure to check your emails for the assignment, " The professor finally concluded after his never ending talks since the beginning of class. I gathered my things and got to my feet, following the rest of the students out of the lecture hall.

Since that morning, I had been moody- riding on a rollercoaster of moods- and Bella wasn't with me in my three lectures. The audacity to punch something was on a very high level and that's when I knew I had to find a gym soon enough so I don't destroy things when I feel like that.

I thought of going out to find one since I didn't have any other lectures for the day. College life had been really uneventful- attending classes and studying non-stop- I barely had time for anything else.

As I stormed out of the campus parking lot, my mind was fixated on one thing: finding a boxing gym to unleash my pent-up frustration. The scorching sun beat down on me, but I pressed on, my feet carrying me towards the sound of grunting and heavy breathing. The sign "SCHOOL'S GYM" loomed before me, and I pushed open the glass door, slipping inside. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and worn leather, and I breathed it in, feeling a sense of solace.

Through the window, I spotted him - the boxer guy - his eyes cast downward, his eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. His nose and plump lips were set in a determined expression, and I could sense the tension emanating from him. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead like diamonds, and his red boxing gloves seemed to glow with an inner fire.

In my peripheral vision, he did look fierce and as powerful as the red color of his gloves. Not only his face but he's but body was a sign that he really was a boxer. The determination in his eyes was crystal clear as he stood in front of the punching bag, ready to throw his perfect punch- and he did.

There was this jealousy that bubbled in my chest at the sight. I should be the one punching a bag-I was in need of it- but finding a boxing gym seemed difficult. I remembered back then how I always went to the gym to pour out my anger whenever my dad—

I snapped out of my thoughts immediately and closed my eyes in frustration- my past did always found a way to connect with my present. I needed my past to be right behind me-far behind- because if they found a way to untangle themselves and connect with my present, I'll be hopeless.

Glancing at the boxer guy one last time, I backed away and made my way out of the campus with great determination.

▬▬▬✰✯✰▬▬▬

Turned out finding a boxing gym wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It only took me ten minutes, and then, I found myself standing in front of a sleek, modern gym, its glass window panes glinting like a beacon. The sign above the door read "RED GLOVE GYM" in bold, crimson letters. I pushed open the door, and a bell above it rang out, announcing my arrival. The air inside was cool and crisp, a welcome respite from the sweltering heat outside.

Mr. John, the person in charge, greeted me with a warm smile, and I explained my desire to join the gym. He nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and told me I was welcome to use the facilities anytime. I thanked him and made my way to an empty boxing ring, eyes scanning around the room; Different training items were scattered around the gym in an organized manner and it seemed enough for fifty people at least. The ropes creaked softly as I climbed into the ring. The punching bag hung before me, a formidable opponent, and I began to circle it, my fists clenched.

I got into business with the punching bag, repeating the steps in my head- in case I had forgotten- as I thrusted my hand forward to make a hard contact with the heavy, thick bag. It did sway a bit, but I wasn't satisfied. I repeated the move over and over, more added force each time.

Punching the bag took me back to the time I was a little younger. An image of my dad flashed and my anger was unstoppable- even though I had ran away from home, his images still hurts me. I threw punches at the bag, a little bit faster than before- erratic breathing, boiling blood and of course the color red- that's all that proved how angry I really was.

It hurt when I punched the bad so hard but I chose to ignore it because my past hurt the more. I kept throwing punches, my breathing getting heavier.

"Jeez, you need to be careful or you'll get hurt," the saccharine voice I unfortunately became used to spoke. "Besides, your elbow isn't bent in the right way."

What?

I turned around to see the boxer guy- Golden boy infact had appeared besides me. He was no longer wearing the short I saw him wear in the boxing room, rather, he was pulling off a T-shirt over a pair of blue jeans.

Hot-- pull it together Carl.

"Excuse me?"

"Your elbow wasn't bent correctly."

I took offense in that. "What's your business with my elbow?"

"The angle at which your elbow is bent determines how well you throw a punch."

I became frustrated, slightly exasperated even. "Well sorry, I didn't know I would be having a trigonometry class today, I would have brought a protractor along to measure the stupid angle of my elbow."

He found humour in that. I was actually starting to think he was going insane- his actions didn't justify him- the same guy I met in the parking lot.

"Just throw the punch." he turned me around to face the punching bag again, standing way too close for my liking.

I could feel his hard chest pressing against my back, his right hand gently gripping my forearm. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, shivers running down my spine. I couldn't speak as I had suddenly lost my tongue. What the hell is happening? My body was reacting strangely to his and I was growing greatly uncomfortable.

His chin rested on my shoulder as he positioned my elbow accurately and then grabbed my left hand, moving it in front of my face. "Now, do it."

For some reason my brain went dumb and I became confused- I needed him to back away from me- I didn't like the way tingles went up and down my spine.

"Well, what are you waiting for frosty? Give the punch."

Frosty?! What the actual hell.

I decided to let the name slide since he actually didn't know my name. "Step back."

Yes, I did order him.

He didn't argue, he muttered a 'sorry' and stepped back. Strange. As I threw the punch, I felt his eyes on me- that wasn't going to distract me.

"Again."

He ordered and I surprisingly followed- I guess the gym was the only place I could listen to him. He repeatedly told me to keep punching the bag, so I could get used to it. My whole body was burning like it had been lit on fire, and sweat rolled down my forehead, making me feel uncomfortable- I was exhausted beyond words.

I stopped.

"Tired?"

I turned around to face him, a small frown falling on my lips. "Yes."

He didn't say anything. I walked over to the edge of the ring and grabbed my water bottle. While I drowned the water like I had been thirsty for years, Mr Golden boy decided to speak.

"What brought you here?"

I rolled my eyes at his question but twisted the cap of my water bottle back on, then gave him an answer, "To get all my frustrations out."

He quirked a brow. "When I came here you seemed angry. Why?"

My teeth came together in a tight grit. This guy did get on every nerve endings of mine. "None of your business." I rolled my eyes. "What brought you here?"

"It isn't a new thing," he shrugged like it was a normal thing and I grew confused.

"Pardon?"

"As I said before, I'm a boxer,-"

"I already got that much Mr," I added with an eye roll before drinking from my water bottle.

He smirked at me, mischievously. "I meant professionally, and I fight in this gym. As a matter of fact, my dad owns it."

The moment the words fell out of his plump lips, I spat the water I was drinking out of my mouth. "What?!"

He chuckled softly. "This is where I do all my fights, and well, both my dad and I own it."

My heart dropped down into my stomach, and in the way I could decipher, my mind paralyzed. He just had to be the damn owner of the only gym I could find.

"But. . . Mr John-"

"He's just here to assist and keep an eye out because my dad is really busy."

This cannot be fuckin' serious!

"You can't be fuckin' serious!" I said it, hands thrown in the air.

He shrugged slightly. "It is frosty."

I had enough of that name he called me. "Can you stop calling me that? It would be really nice." I was really frustrated and angry in a way that I could slam a door in his face.

"Why? It really suits yo-"

"Don't," I interjected, my glare piercing straight through his soul. Why am I even here talking to this arrogant prick?

His attitude was out of place, and that was the more reason I wanted to leave. I walked straight to where my bad was placed and grabbed it without uttering a word. He watched me in confusion and then I walked past him with the sour words out of my mouth, "Good bye, see you never."

"Wait!" he called out to me and I stopped dead in my track. "You're free to use the gym anytime you feel frustrated."

Was he- mocking me?

With clenched fist and gritted teeth, I turned around to face him and wished I had broken his nose. "Fuck off!"

With that, I marched out of the gym- having it in mind to never return.

HEY! Your girl's back.

This chapter turned out kinda shorter than the other ones but it's okay. I hope you enjoyed it though.

»QUESTION:- Have you ever been in a situation where the person you least expected is the owner of the place you love going to? {Like a restaurant}

I really don't know. . . Damn it felt awkward.

Hope to see you in the comments<3