iGet My Bell Rung

Wendy felt sick to her stomach as she walked into this place. There were shirtless men pummeling each other everywhere she looked. Sure, she liked boys just fine, but boys were there for things like random lunch dates, or going shopping or to the movies. Boys were supposed to be like Freddie Benson. They were meant to be the best friends you've ever had. People like Shelby were meant for loving.

The Seattle Fight Club had originally been built in the thirties. There were all sorts of fight posters on the wall, including one celebrating the charity exhibition between Shelby Marx and Carly Shay. Wendy's heart filled with pride, because she knew that were it not for her friendship with Carly Shay and Sam Puckett, she would never have met and fallen in love with Shelby Marx.

She spotted her pretty lady in the main ring, sparring. She recognized Shelby's sparring partner as the number three ranked contender internationally, a thin, bleached blonde from Venezuela. She thought this girl was quite attractive. Then it happened.

A crossing right slammed into Shelby's temple, sending her reeling. A left hook slammed into the opposite side of Shelby's head, sending her to her knees.

Wendy wanted to throw up.

Shelby's trainer was immediately in the center of the ring, hovering over the champion, screaming in the face of the opposing fighter.

"TIME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT 'SPARRING' MEANS? IT MEANS YOU GO EASY!"

Shelby was now on her feet, still obviously dazed. She spat her mouth guard to the canvas and shook her head. Even with gloves on, she managed to remove the headgear.

"What the hell? I mean, unless my title's on the line and I didn't know it, I'd think you wanted to send me to the hospital!"

Shelby felt male hands around her naked stomach. Her trainer was holding her back.

"Relax, Champ… We're done for now… go cool down…"

In a display of temper Wendy had never seen before, Shelby picked up her headgear and whipped it out of the ring. Shelby Marx was whipped up. She stomped off.

Everyone in the gym knew not to screw with Shelby Marx. She was the champion for a reason. Male or female, she was perfectly capable of taking your head off. Wendy followed behind her at a discreet distance.

MOMENTS LATER, IN THE WOMEN'S LOCKER ROOM…

Shelby slumped in front of her locker. Her head hurt immensely, but what worried her more was the strange electrical feeling radiating from her temples throughout her skull. This wasn't like her previous concussions. Whatever this was, it was different.

"Shelby…?"

The fighter froze. She knew that voice. The champion turned her head as fast as the fuzzy, electric feeling inside her skull would allow.

"Wendy? What are you doing here?"

The redhead was hurt.

"I missed you…"

Shelby felt horrible. She didn't want Wendy to see her like this. She also didn't want to push her away.

"Wendy, I… I'm…"

Wendy knew that Shelby was hurt. She'd seen the hit she'd taken. She held her close.

"Shelby, I don't care about what your contract says or what fight you're training for… You are coming home with me and I'll take care of you as long as I need to…"

"Wendy, you didn't have to come here… It's an occupational hazard… I'll be okay… eventually…"

Wendy wanted to cry. She was absolutely sick inside.

"Eventually? Shelby, this isn't about your career… not anymore…"

The prizefighter didn't know what to say or do. She knew that Wendy cared for her, but she couldn't allow this girl to hurt because of her. Shelby thought she understood, but she was clearly mistaken.

"Wendy, eventually, I'm going to retire, and it won't be so interesting having me around…"

Wendy would have gotten violent if it was in her nature. She wanted to make Shelby understand that this was about something more than celebrity.

She took the fighter's taped hand gently. Shelby needed to know. She spoke quietly. This was about them and no one else.

"Shelby, look… this isn't about your title or fame or fortune or everything that goes with it… This is about us…"

Shelby's eyes went wide. She was afraid that that knock to her head had screwed up her vision. She felt the pressure behind her eyes that she knew led to tears.

"What do you mean, 'us'?"

Wendy summoned all the strength she had to say the words. She'd gone over them in her head a thousand times since things began getting… whatever they were, but Wendy knew that Shelby was the only one she wanted.

"Shelby, you're not just a fighter to me anymore… You're not just the girl I spend crazy money to watch on pay-per-view… the girl I argue with Sam Puckett about until three in the morning…"

Shelby shot her a cock-eyed look. Wendy wasn't sure if it was the head injury acting up or not, but she continued anyway.

"My point is, you beautiful, beautiful lady, with muscles rippling that make me go all weak in the knees… that I'm not going any damn place! I don't know what it is about you, but you make my life better simply by being in it, and, while I'm a fan, girlfriend me isn't really happy to see you get hit…"

Shelby chuckled.

"Girlfriend you?"

"Well, isn't that what I am?"

Shelby paused a long moment, staring into Wendy's eyes. Truth be told, Shelby's mind had been made up a long time ago, but she liked seeing Wendy twist in the wind, even for a split second.

"If you wanna be, Red…"

Shelby tried to look tough, but failed. It was impossible to be butch when the one you wanted had just seen you at your most fragile and vulnerable. She looked to Wendy with slightly dull eyes, evidence of the fact that Shelby's internal bell had been rung rather severely. She squeezed Wendy's hand in hers. There wasn't any need for further discussion. It was abundantly clear that Wendy belonged to Shelby Marx and vice-versa.