Well helloooo.
Oh look, my reviewers are still with me. Glad to know I'm not completely alone and abandoned.
REVIEW REPLY TIME! (Damn, I missed this too :( so sad.)
isigrace - Hello my Red-needs-more-of-a-role-in-stories buddy! I finally found someone who agrees with me! So happy.
As for the Grimm family/Everafter connection thing, no, the whole family doesn't know about them, not even Relda. Let's just say that Everafters were never trapped inside a magical barrier and are free to live and travel around the world as they please, but they all pass as humans in the normal world. Nope, Willhelm Grimm is unidentified.
Also, what's a mercenary? I considered asking Google for help, but I'm too lazy right now. I'm guessing it's something to do with the army? Correct me if I'm wrong. You'll find out who Puck is in this chapter, by the way.
Amy Grimm - Well hello to you too. Hmph. Just kidding, I MISSED YOU, BUDDY! I will update my other stories, only because you asked. Soon.
Annie Carter - HIIIIIII! I've missed you too, more than necessary, perhaps. Don't worry, you did not do anything wrong. I just haven't been around. (Again, BLAME THE INTERNET).
But Sabrina likes exercise, Annie. Leave the poor girl (woman?) alone. Exercise is very good. Speaking of which, I need to do mine in five hours. Oh, goody.
DelusionalApple - Thank you! I'm still not convinced about HL, but I guess praise is always appreciated. Do you really think I did a good job on the POV? It's better than last time's, but I'm still not one-hundred-percent.
Oakex - I know, right?! I like re-reading my old work, but that story was a complete put-off. Yuegh! Oh, and I hope you do find the tragic plot twist interesting, along with the rest of the story (hopefully)!
:) (Smiley faces are BACK, PEOPLE!)
Also, don't blame me if Red is a bit too flirty/clingy in the story. All of the fighter-romance stories I've read so far include a girly best friend who likes using people and who has way too many boyfriends and ex-boyfriends than she could count. I like Red, but she needs to be more outgoing. Shyness is not accepted in my stories.
...
"Oh. My. God."
Oh my God was right. This place was spectacular. Amazing. Rich. Luxurious. If I didn't know any better, I'd think this was some famous hot-shots private training gym. That's what it looked like on the inside. On one side of the gym was a huge wall lined with any training machine you could think of. Cross trainers, treadmills, ab crunchers, leg press machines, and about a dozen other different types I couldn't name. On the other side was around ten to twenty training mats, along with a whole row of punching bags and speed balls. On the far wall were three doors, two leading off to the men's and women's showers and toilets, and another which looked very much like an elevator. In fact, it was an elevator.
But the best thing of all was in the middle of the gym. A humongous boxing ring stood for all to see, right in the center of the room. Around fifty people were crowded around it, and straight away I knew they weren't there to marvel at the amazing ring. They were there because of the man fighting inside it.
With a squeal, Red dragged me over to join the crowd (mostly made up of females) and clung tightly to my arm. There were shouts and cheers from almost everyone around the room, and more than a few naughty comments which I shall not repeat. Woman tend to get a bit excited in the presence of attractive men, and to say these woman were excited was an understatement of extreme proportions.
But that was an exception, given that the man fighting in the ring was not only attractive, but downright sexy.
He was one of those fighter types, like those men you see on billboards and posters advertising protein shakes or deodorants, only packed with ten times more muscle. Short cropped blond hair which still managed to have a shaggy and care-free look to it, piercing hazel green eyes, and muscles, muscles, muscles all round.
"You're so hot, Robin!"
And now begins shame by best friend.
"Red, would you please shut up? That's really embarrassing."
Red turns to me, her face the very definition of her name. "Oh come on, Sabrina. You know every woman in this place is thinking it, as well as you. Just admit it."
I roll my eyes at her. "I am not. And how do you know his name, anyway?"
She grins, as if she's just won a ton of cash. "Everyone knows who he is. Robin Goodfellow, otherwise know as Puck, is one of the best MMA slash boxing fighters around. Sadly, "Midnight" is retired, and he no longer fights publicly. There have been rumors about him going underground, but no one knows for sure if he's actually willing to do something that risky. He could risk losing the rest of his money, which, let's just say, adds up to a few million."
I snort. "'Midnight'? What kind of name is that?"
Red shrugs, turning back to the ring and watching 'Puck' demonstrate how to hit an opponent in the jaw. His movements are smooth, precise, and it's not so much violent, more like graceful. It's almost as if he's performing, or dancing. He makes it look easy.
"Apparently he chose that name because of Shakespeare. 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' or something like that. Inspirational, I guess. Didn't you see the announcement on the screen outside? They had his name and everything. He's the reason I dragged you here today."
"No, I guessed that 'Midnight' meant they would be open until midnight. I didn't know people named themselves after the time of day."
Red laughs and starts cheering again with the crowd as Puck announces that he will be giving live demonstrations to people in the gym.
"If you manage to knock me out, you get free membership for a year! Get me to tap out, and I'll give you and one of your friends both a free membership! You look like a capable bunch, so let's give you a challenge!"
He has that kind of voice that makes most woman want to crawl between the ropes and lick the sweat off his six pack. Most woman though, not all. Luckily, the Sabrina Grimm express won't be stopping at Hot-Guy station.
Puck calls up a tough looking man from the front of the crowd. The guy gets geared up, and the two get into position. Puck smirks, and instantly I realize something.
Daphne says I have this thing called "Person-Analysis". According to her, I like to judge people, and take pleasure in predicting other people personalities. I guess in a way she's right, but it's not so much about pleasure than trying to determine whether the person is good or bad.
That smirk instantly tells me everything I need to know about Robin 'Puck' Goodfellow. He's a playboy, one of those Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Maam type of guys. A player, someone who probably has more girlfriends than he can count on his fingers and toes.
He strikes, and that single jab reveals more than intended. He's cocky; over-confident in his abilities. Arrogant, head-strong and probably could do with an ego that's not the size of a hot-air balloon. He thinks he's better than most, and most likely won't settle for 'second-best'.
The challenger goes down after one blow, and Puck smirks. Sweat glistens all over his evenly tanned skin, and it's clear what's going through the woman's heads right now, because the gym is now packed with about two hundred people, all crowding around the ring. Good thing this place is big.
Puck raises his arms above his head in a triumphant manner, and begins turning in a circle. The crowd screams and yells, and all I can do is roll my eyes. This guy probably didn't get the memo. This is a gym, buddy, not a freaking tournament.
He calls up another person, and another, and one by one the brave souls fall into the mats, half conscious and with their pride shattered.
Puck does one last turn in search for an opponent, and once he turns to our side of the ring, I freeze. He's not smiling anymore, and those hazel-green eyes are not twinkling anymore. Dammit, they're staring right at my blue ones.
I suck in a breathe an nudge Red nervously, silently praying for those eyes to move along, but they don't. Judging by Red's lack of response, she's noticed the stare-off.
"Sabrina, he's looking at you! Oh my god, he's smiling!"
She's right. That infuriatingly sexy mouth has curved upwards, but this time it's not a smirk, it's a smile. A full-on smile. My heart skips a beat.
"Sabrina! Sabrina! Shit, he's coming over!"
Right again. Puck is walking across the ring towards us, eyes locked with mine. Forget about sucking in breathes, I think I've stopped breathing altogether. Who needs oxygen, right?
Red is now currently shaking my arm none too gently, and I turn to her. "What?" I snap, irritated. She's distracting me from my none-breathing, and frankly, I'm pissed.
"He's looking at us! Why is he looking at us? Shit, Sabrina, I think I'm gonna vomit! I've had a crush on this guy, for, like, ever, and he's actually walking up to me in his gym! What am I going to do if he talks to me?"
I freeze. "Wait, did you say his gym? This guy owns the place?"
Red frowns. "Umm, yeah, duh! Why else do you think it's called Midsummer Workout?"
Before I can reply, a shadow falls over us. I will never forgive Red for dragging us all the way to the front of the crowd.
I look up, and, lo and behold, there stands Mister Goodfellow himself, all hot and I-look-so-good-in-sweat.
"How about you? You seem like a tough fighter. Want to fight the man himself?"
I glare at him, because not only is he making me uncomfortable, but he's putting us in the spotlight, which is somewhere I never want to be.
I start to shake my head, but before I can, Red piped up.
Oh, right, I forgot. Ever-present best friend by my side.
"I'll do it!" she all but screams, and I feel like dying. I'd give anything to get back to my no-breathing activities from earlier, but I don't think purple-in-the-face-and-nearly-dying is a very attractive look.
So I opt for burying my face in my hands.
"Alright then, what's your name?"
He sounds...disappointed? I look up, but all I see is Red climbing through the ropes, led by Mr Hotness himself. He turns away, but not before he catches my eye, and winks.
Oh god. Red and I should swap names. That way my face will match my name.
I hold my breath as Red straps up, head-gear and everything. She catches my eye as one of the assistants wraps her hands in a bandage and then slips on a glove. She waves at me, grinning, and I manage a nervous shake of the fingers back at her.
I turn to Puck, who's busy tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. His eyes wash over the crowd before they land on me, and my breath catches again. He shakes his head at me, and I don't know what he's trying to say. I frown, and all he does is shake his head again and grin.
I'm confused.
The announcer calls the fight, and I tense up immediately. Red has killer moves, thank to the martial arts lessons we've been taking since we were kids, but compared to Puck, she's got nothing. He could knock her out with one blow. He's almost a head taller than her, and packed full of muscle, not to mention that fighter brain he probably has in there, filled with fighting moves and techniques.
Red goes for a left hook, which Puck easily avoids. He manages a straight right, which catches Red in the chest and sends her falling backwards. The crowd cheers and whoops, and I have the overwhelming urge to jump through the ropes and help her out. My heart is beating loudly, and the atmosphere in the air has changed dramatically. All of a sudden, this isn't fun anymore. It's terrifying.
I grip the edge of the ring hard, my knuckles turning right, and struggle to focus on Red. She's dazed, but she's shaking off her nausea and grinning like an idiot again. Thank God.
She hops up and down, edging closer and closer towards Puck. Once she's about a foot away from him, I cringe, waiting in anticipation and fear for one of them to throw the first blow.
No one does.
Instead, Red leaps off her feet, using Puck's shoulders to boost herself up into the air. She flips backwards, landing behind him and wrapping her legs around his waist. Puck falls to his knees and Red somehow manages to get him in an arm bar.
I'm shocked.
It all happened so fast, and now Puck is laying on the floor with his arm between Red's knees, and I'm sure she's won.
But there's only one problem.
He's too relaxed.
He not even sweating! His face isn't red, and he doesn't seem puffed out. He looks calm, almost as if he expected all this to happen in the first place.
Almost as if he had it all planned out.
But that's impossible! He couldn't have. It's probably just my imagination. He is puffed out, and defeated, because if he wasn't, he wouldn't have tapped out right now.
But he did, so Red's won. She's won, and I'm dumbfounded.
No. Way.
