Oh look, another short chapter.

Ugh, sorry. The good news is that if they stay short, I can probably continue to manage to update once a week. So, a poll: shorter chapters and quicker updates, or longer chapters and slower updates? Keep in mind I'm also working on ANEN at the same time. Cumbersome, I know.

Review, favorite, follow, enjoy!

Chapter Two: Goddess of Fight

It wasn't until a month later that I saw Elsa for the first time.

I had come to the gym late one night, due to the fact that I had picked up a job in the last week which had me working most afternoons until late at night. I didn't mind the late hours, and I was actually excited to go to the gym so late. It got pretty busy during the day and I was anxious to see if it would be dead this late at night. Since it was dark out, however, I decided to take the subway, figuring that was probably safer than running through the park at night. I would need to ask Kristoff about that later.

Anyway, I get to the gym and walk in and am not the least bit surprised when I see no one at the front desk. Neither Ralph nor his young assistant I had met the other day, Vanellope, were present. I shrug; Ralph had said not to fret if no one was there. I glance at my phone for the time. It was nearly midnight; no wonder no one was at the front desk.

Swiping my card, I head towards the locker rooms on the first floor to change and store my stuff. I still hadn't run into anyone yet and I shamefully had to admit that it was beginning to creep me out.

I mean, I was seemingly alone in this huge building; don't tell me I wasn't allowed to be freaking out a bit. People really didn't work out this late? Surely I couldn't be the only one with a work schedule that only allowed for really early morning workouts or late night ones.

Trying to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling, I continue to go about my business. Confining my stuff to my self-designated locker, I head up to the second level to start out with a two mile run on the treadmills since I hadn't been able to run over.

I went about my usual routine—weights, rowing, a fifteen minute stretch and water break, and another mile run—before I decide to check out the room designated for boxing for the first time.

Yeah, I know, as big of a boxing nut as I am and I still hadn't checked out the room dedicated to boxing workouts? What kind of boxer am I, right?

Honestly, I was afraid.

Boxing isn't your typical sport like basketball, soccer, or football; it's rare to find a college or university with a boxing program let alone a high school with one. I really had only been competitively boxing my last two years of high school; it wasn't until then that I managed to scrounge up enough interested students and convince one of my teachers to sponsor us that we got a team.

We weren't much; barely five people strong, but I still loved it nonetheless. I hate to say this in fear of sounding narcissistic, but I was definitely the best on the team. "Coach"—who was basically my AP Calculus teacher junior year—even told me so, so I'm allowed to gloat, right? As an entire team, we never managed to bring home many prizes, but as an individual, I managed to win nearly all my matches. I was good at boxing, and now I was beginning to discover it. All that beating up on Kristoff growing up had really paid off.

Anyway, that's what made me move to New York City in the first place: the boxing scene. Two tournaments take place every year in the Fall; one for rookies and one for experienced boxers. Obviously when I sign up, I'll be signing up for the rookie tournament. I may think I'm good at boxing, but even my ego can restrain itself enough to realize I'm not near good enough to compete with real, legitimate boxers. After all, I'm just an eighteen year-old kid; I can't stand up to twenty-plus year-old men! I'd get slaughtered! I may have a good physique and a strong build, but even that can't and won't save me from the iron fists of giants!

Okay, maybe that's my mind just getting over-excited. I did say I have a brilliant imagination, right?

Thankfully, I am saved from even stranger thoughts developing by noises coming from a room down the hall. As I continue my approach, I realize they are coming from the boxing room. I feel my stomach flip. Someone else was here? And in the boxing room, no less? Great; now I was probably going to end up looking like an idiot somehow.

I come so close to turning around and saving my discovery of that room for another night, but the grunts and grumbles that continue to escape the room have my interest piqued.

"Damn it!" I hear come from the room, followed swiftly by the sound of a bag being punched. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

So, not only was someone at the gym this late, in my boxing room, and cursing, but they also seemed to be very self-deprecating.

"Fuck it," I grumble, deciding to continue my approach.

Curiosity killed the cat; and in this case, the cat had red hair and teal eyes.

Right outside the door now, I carefully peer around the frame and into the room. Forgetting I was attempting to discreetly spy on someone, my eyes immediately light up at the sight of all the equipment and have to hold in an excited gasp.

This room was awesome! Everything I had dreamed of using back in high school was at my disposal! There was even a mock ring in the middle of the room!

Another grunt and 'fuck!' remind me I'm not alone.

My eyes travel across the room until they settle on the lone figure in a corner, beating the literal stuffing out of a punching bag.

Hot damn! is all I can coherently get my mind to think.

This "lone figure" is a girl; and a hot girl at that.

Oh yeah, might have forgotten to mention I'm hella gay; although that should have been easily assumed from my introduction. Why would I lust over and eventually fall in love with a girl if I was straight?

Okay, off target yet again. Back to the hot girl.

Okay, so yeah, I was only staring at her back for the moment, but I'd be damned if it wasn't the sexiest back I'd ever seen.

Is that weird?

From what I could immediately observe, she was built a lot like me. Long, slim—delicious—legs, her skin pulled so taut against her back that I could literally see her spine moving in accordance to her exertion from across the room, even through her clothing. Her hair was a very light blonde and was pulled back into a braid, which was quickly becoming mussed from her frustration. She was wearing yoga shorts and a slim-fitting tank which easily allowed me to drool over her milky shoulders. I could only imagine what she looked like from the front.

I had to find out.

Before I reveal myself, I pull back out of the room in order to catch my breath and plan some sort of speech so I don't go in there blabbing like an idiot. Even though I probably would end up doing so anyway, I had to at least act like I wasn't a mesmerized, gay, fool.

So, maybe the lust developed before the interest, but, come on, if anyone else had been there, I know they would have been in the same boat as me.

This girl was flawless. She was a goddess. Forget the fact that I had only seen her backside thus far, she was beautiful nonetheless.

I peer back in as I hear her deliver another blow to the bag. I watch as a hand clenches into a tight fist, black fingerless gloves covering what I am sure are perfect hands. I cock an eyebrow in curiosity at the long, black arm brace covering her right arm from her wrist to her shoulder.

Swallowing a lump in my throat and praying my eyes don't look as star-struck as I think they do, I make myself known.

"I was sure I was the only one who worked out this late," I say as I enter.

I watch in amusement as she spins around, braid flying over her shoulder, eyes wide as saucers.

My amusement quickly dies, however, when I notice the look of fear and self-loathing shimmering in her beautiful blue irises.

"Stressful day?" I inquire, hoping to hear her voice.

Her mouth forms a tight line as she frowns, immediately looking away from me and to the floor.

"You could say that," she grumbles.

My god, I was smitten. Even though she was practically growling while silently seething, she had the most sublime voice. It was lofty, yet smooth.

I had been correct when I said she was a goddess.

"I'm sure the bag's hoping tomorrow turns out better," I say in my most chipper voice, wanting to cheer this goddess up before me.

I'm still not to this day exactly sure, but I could have sworn I saw the ends of her lips twitch up in the briefest of smirks at my quip. Regardless of whether it was there or not, my chest swells with pride. I had gotten this ethereal beauty to smile.

Sort of. Maybe.

I take a few hesitant steps closer, approaching her like you would a cornered puppy; slow and careful, but with what you hope is the warmest look you can muster.

"Working out is the best way to relieve stress," I try again.

"Unless it's the cause," is her curt reply.

Okay, so she isn't a woman of many words. I can work with that. For her, I would work with anything.

"Why?" I can't help but ask.

She shoots me a glare that freezes me in my advance. Damn; if looks could kill…

"I don't even know who the hell you are; what makes you think I have anything to say to you?"

I frown. "I'm just trying to help."

She continues to glower as she replies, "Well stop trying. I don't need any help."

Then, without sparing me another glance, she strides from the room with an air of elegance and regality surrounding her.

I stand there for a good five minutes just running through the conversation—if you could even call it that—in my head.

Who was that girl? Why did she seem so familiar?

It wasn't until I awake with a start at six in the morning that I remembered.

Elsa Arendelle.

Holy shit, that was actually her! I exclaim in my mind. The Elsa!

For anyone who doesn't know, Elsa Arendelle is, like, the boxing prodigy of today. Most—including me—consider her the best female boxer this side of the globe—hell, maybe even the world! She had been seventeen when she made the Olympic team, and her first year there she brought home a silver medal. Like, that's a big fucking deal! Then, four years later, now just twenty-one, she made the team again and brought home the fucking gold! Like, are you shitting me?

Ugh, sorry; I have a tendency to curse a lot when I get riled up.

Anyway, so she wins the silver and gold and everyone's expecting her to announce whether she will be competing in the next Olympics when suddenly…

She goes off the grid.

Literally, no one had seen hide nor hair of her since two months following the last Olympic Games. Now it's been a year and she still hasn't resurfaced.

Until tonight.

I saw Elsa Arendelle. She lives in the same city as me. She goes to the same gym as me.

I have to see her again.