Gray's hands pummel the punching bag with a fierceness she sometimes forgets. But, that's why she comes here; to remind herself that she's strong. Her whole body feels painfully present, but her mind drifts far above her. She finally stops for a break, flexing her hands, looking at the bruises with a smile. As she drinks her water, she notices a figure come through the door. He looks familiar despite the dark hood pulled over his head. He's broad shouldered and strong; he doesn't need to do a thing to prove it, it's just there. This guy is strong.
He slips off his hoody and begins wrapping his hands. As he turns, he makes eye contact with her and that's when Gray realizes who he is; Tommy Riordan. His face had been plastered across every gym across the country for awhile. He'd competed in a large competition a few months ago against his older brother. The story had been greatly dramatized and she remembered how sorry she'd felt that Tommy's personal life was being spilled across the headlines of every news station. Tommy's gaze lingered on her momentarily before he turned and began throwing punches at the hanging bag before him. Gray returned to her own punching bag, trying not to stare.
Just before Gray leaves, Tommy approaches her, shoulders rolled and head down like he's curling in on himself. A toothpick sits between his full lips, tongue rolling it as he looks up at her. He's incredibly handsome, she thinks, even though his hair is damp with sweat and his cheeks are flushed from exertion. She furrows her eyebrows as they make eye contact and he raises his.
"Your, uh, your punches are weak." He says, smirking a little, pulling on his hat and gloves, about to go out into the cold darkness of night. His voice is deep and rough.
"Really now?" Gray responds, her eyes narrowing. She suddenly feels self conscious. "I'm not weak. You don't know me well enough to make that assessment."
"Nah, nah. Not you." Tommy says, grinning a little. That grin is enough to make a girl's knees go weak. "You're definitely not weak. You're anything but weak. You go at that bag over there like it's your worst enemy. But, your punches aren't landing with any force. You ever sparred before?"
"No. I just practice here sometimes." Gray says. "Not all of us want to get in the cage."
Tommy's grin falters a little and she feels unnecessary guilt. "Well, uh, you move with too much aggression. You don't let your body take over. You're too tense."
"Well, I appreciate your input." Gray said, looking down at her things. She grabs her sweatshirt and pulls it over her head. She feels like she's under a microscope and Tommy's the scientist. Can he see why she's angry when she practices? Can her sense her fear?
"Thought you could lose a little help. I don't usually just go up to people and shit."
"So, why am I different?"
"You look like boxing actually means something to you .Not for a fucking title or some shit. I don't know why, but if you want to get better, I'm willing to give some pointers." Tommy says. He looks away, pulling the toothpick from his mouth. "Doesn't hurt that you're cute."
This elicits a laugh from Gray. "Right, well...um." She ponders Tommy for a moment before deciding. "Yeah, I think some pointers would be really nice."
"Yeah, alright. Well, uh.." Tommy says looking around with a smile his eyebrows raised. "When you want to start?"
"How about next week? I'll be in after work on Monday. That work for you?"
"I'll see what I can do." Tommy says. He holds his hand out and she shakes it. "I'm Tommy, by the way."
"I'm Gray." She answers. He nods his head and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"I'll see you Monday, Gray."
Monday arrives and Gray finds herself feeling nervous. He's just a guy she tells herself, but her stomach rolls. He's a nice guy. Gray leans her head back against the wall behind the bench and closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing.
She only waits a few minutes before Tommy walks in, cheeks red from the cold. He drags his hand across his nose and mouth, popping a toothpick in before he walks over to Gray, looking apprehensive, but when she smiles at him, her green eyes bright, her dark hair framing her soft porcelain face, he can't help but relax.
"I don't normally do this sort of thing." He says, not looking at her. She follows him over to the bags, but stops when he veers off to the side.
"What? Teach people? You're one of the best boxers in the country! Maybe you should start." Gray says, scrunching her nose at him. He seems baffled at her reaction. "I saw you at Sparta. You were awesome."
"Oh...uh, thanks. Yeah, that was a while ago now." Tommy responds, his voice hard. He dismisses the topic and moves towards a stack of pads. "Alright, look, you gotta start usin' stuff like this. You can't just punch at a bag, see? That's good for strength and practice, but if you box, you're gonna have to hit a moving target."
Gray nodded her head. "I don't intend to get in the ring. I told you that."
Tommy looked at her, hard. Then he said, "Why'd you choose to box, huh?"
It was Gray's turn to shut the topic down. "No offense, but that's my business." She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to shake off the dread that creeps into her gut.
Tommy looks at her, his eyes dark, his expression serious. It sends a shiver down Gray's spine, but of fear or something kinder, she can't tell. He tugs off his sweatshirt, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt.
Gray tries not to stare and tugs off her own sweatshirt. Tommy doesn't flinch at the sudden sight of her bare stomach; she wear nothing but a sports bra beneath her hoodie. Gray wraps her hands and slips the gloves on, wiggling her fingers, Tommy slipping the pads over his hands.
"Okay….We're gonna try a couple of things…."
Gray begins to hit the pads, hard, and sweat drips from her body. Tommy stops her to adjust her stance or her motions patiently. For a guy so muscular, quiet, and intimidating, he's wonderfully gentle with her, strength behind every movement, restraint working at his muscles.
Gray and Tommy go on like this, meeting a couple times a week, trying new techniques, practicing the basics. Gray's hands are bruised, her body aches, but when she falls into bed at night she feels accomplished and strong. She's able to fall asleep without dreaming, without fear.
One night, as Gray begins to head out of the gym, Tommy turns, scratching his head and rolling that damn toothpick between his lips again. Gray's decided that they're her favorite feature today, full, soft, and red. Something about the way he licks them makes her flush and she feels silly for thinking about what they'd feel like against hers. She's zipping up her hoodie, dark hair falling over her shoulder when he asks, "You wanna get a bite?"
Gray looks up at him, trying to stop her heart from pounding, afraid that he'll hear the noise. It's part excitement, part fear. But, having spent weeks training with Tommy, she feels oddly comfortable with him. She nods her head in response. "Yeah, I'd like that."
The air outside is bitingly cold, the wind whipping at their exposed faces. Tommy walks on the outside of the sidewalk, a solid barrier between Gray and the outside world and something about it makes her look at him and smile. He's looking ahead, so she lets her gaze linger, trying to understand the feeling that arises in her gut. The streetlight throws half of his face in shadow and for a fleeting moment he looks menacing, but when he looks at her, his face is nothing but sweet.
The burger place they choose is nearly empty. Tommy holds the door open and she ducks under his arm, walking inside. Once they settle down and eat Tommy orders a beer and Gray gets a water. As soon at the beer hits Tommy's tongue, he feels the pull for more and grits his teeth.
"Soooo, if you don't teach people at the gym, where do you work?" Gray asks, popping a fry in her delicate mouth.
Tommy shrugs. "I do different jobs. Mostly boxing at different places. Gets me a decent amount of money fast."
Gray nods her head, looking at the table. "You're good enough. I'm sure you make a lot of money." Tommy doesn't respond so she plows on. "I work at a doggy day care center."
"You babysit dogs?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Exactly. It's called dogsitting you goob."
He throws a fry at her, but she ducks. "Hey! Don't throw shit at me." Gray snarls, but then she laughs and it makes his heart stop for a moment.
"Fuck…" He says with a soft laugh.
Gray chews on her lip, feeling torn and odd. One minute she was laughing, the next she felt her body begin to fold in on itself. "I should probably get home. It's getting late."
"Yeah, no problem." Tommy says. He takes the check when the waitress brings it.
"What is this? A date?" She teases, but she doesn't wait for his answer. "Thanks, Tommy."
"Mm." Is all he says in response. Something inside him is shutting itself away.
They walk out the door together and stand on the sidewalk, blue moonlight clashing against the orange glow of the streetlights. Tommy looks out at the street and sighs a little. Unconsciously he shoves his large hands into his pockets again. He looks angry or sad and Gray can't tell which and she doesn't ask. Something makes her want to hug him, but she doesn't know if that's okay, so instead she gives him a little smile and another 'thank you.'
"Yeah yeah, it's nothing. Uh, I'll see you later." He says, not meeting her eyes.
"Yeah, okay. Sounds good. Goodnight, Tommy." Gray responds, then she turns and walks away, leaving him standing alone, watching her go.
"Goodnight, Gray." He mutters into the cold air, steam billowing up around his words.
He stays for a moment, looking at her as she walks away from him, hating himself. A girl like Gray is never going to like me. She's too good for me. She's too fucking good. His fist clenches in his pocket and he turns to walk away, something dark settling into the pit of his stomach. Something that feels like dread and hopelessness. It settles deep into his bones and leaves him aching as he makes his way home.