Hayden continues to ignore me at school. On Friday, a day when we would usually train, I decide I am going to seize the day and head to the gym, getting there for half seven so I can catch him before he locks up.
I stand inside, scanning the gym. When I can't find him, I walk over to the far side and sit on a bench, waiting for him to show. The others in the gym briefly take notice of me before resuming their training, except for Wiley, who walks over and sits down next to me, flashing a grin.
"I admire you, you know," he says, wiping his glistening face with a towel. "I don't know of any girl who would risk their face for boxing, especially if they were as pretty as you."
"Then you must not know many girls," I say shortly. "Besides, I doubt I'll ever actually get to fight. All we ever do is warm-up."
"Well, he probably just doesn't want you getting hurt," Wiley says. "He knows first hand how brutal it can be."
I tighten my ponytail, wishing Hayden would hurry up. "Yeah, I saw him fight the other week. I guess it's pretty brutal."
"That wasn't even his best," Wiley says, taking a drink of his water. "Hayden used to fight in competitions until about six months ago. You should have seen him back then. They used to call him the machine. It was like he'd been programmed to win."
I raise an eyebrow at hearing this. "Really? At his age?"
Wiley smiles. "Yeah, his dad had him training since the time he could walk." He grows really quiet, and I know there must be more to the story.
"So, what happened?" I ask.
Wiley shrugs. "There was an incident and a guy got seriously hurt. Hayden didn't–"
"Wiley."
I jerk in my seat. I'd been so immersed in the story of Hayden's life that I didn't notice him standing before us. I look up guiltily, jumping to my feet. "Hi."
Hayden locks his gaze on Wiley, who is looking between the two of us curiously but showing no signs of moving.
"Wiley." The warning in Hayden's voice is sharp, causing Wiley to jump. "Take a walk." Wiley winks at me before slinking away. Hayden steps forward until he is firmly inside of my personal space bubble. "Go home, Maddison."
For a second, I'm confused. "But you said you would train me again."
Now he looks confused. "I did?"
"Well, you were drunk," I admit, "but a promise is a promise." He continues to stare at me until finally, I sigh. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said to you. I was just having a really bad day and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have done that."
He towers over me, his expression unreadable. He's wearing a white vest top and grey sweatpants, which only accentuate his muscular physique. "While I appreciate the sentiment," he says, "this isn't going to work."
I clench my jaw. Why do those words make me feel like I'm suffocating? "Whoa, are you breaking up with me?"
He raises his eyebrows like I'm a few cards short of a deck.
"Look, I already said I was sorry," I say. "What more do you want? I promise I will leave my issues at home. Deal?"
The muscle in his neck contracts. He looks at the ceiling, an action that makes his jaw look even more pronounced. "You got your stuff?"
When I nod, he tilts his head in the direction of his office. I run off, changing into my gear before meeting him by the mat.
The training session is one of the best we've ever had. We start slow with some breathing techniques and weights before he finally shows me a self-defense move. He practices on me a few times, allowing me to see how it should be performed before he lets me practice on him.
After the session, Hayden puts everything away and locks up before following me down the steps. Once we're out into the cold, I flick up my hood and turn to face him.
"You need a ride?" he asks.
I shake my head. A few tendrils of hair fall out from my hood, and I'm about to push them back when Hayden does it for me. My breath hitches. After a lingering second, he drops his hand.
"It's okay," I say quickly. "I live kind of far from here."
"How far?" he asks.
"Um, Riverly."
He raises an eyebrow. "Riverly, huh?" But he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he nods in the direction of his car. "Come on."
I follow him over and climb into the passenger seat. "What happened to your bike?"
He smiles a little like he thinks I'm naive. "This isn't exactly the kind of neighborhood I want to park it in."
I nod and put on my seatbelt. He turns on the engine and I give him my address before he pulls onto the main road. The first half of the journey we are mostly sat in silence. Eventually, I feel the need to fill it. "So how did you end up running a gym?"
"It used to be my dad's," he says, his eyes fixed on the road.
"Used to?" I probe.
A second or two passes. "Before he died."
My eyes soften. "I'm sorry."
"It was a while ago," Hayden says. "He'd had the gym before I was born. Boxing was his life. My mom was going to sell it, but I agreed to take it over."
A few minutes pass before I'm ready to speak. "Why did you stop boxing?"
He doesn't answer right away, so I assume he isn't going to. Then finally, in the quietest voice, he says, "I let my emotions get in the way."
Now I'm intrigued. "What happened?"
He doesn't answer.
"Do you ever miss it?" I ask instead.
"Every day."
My phone suddenly buzzes in my lap. It's like I'm jolted back to reality, and I glance at the caller ID at the same time as Hayden.
Jamie.
Hayden smirks slightly. "How long have you been together, anyway?"
I send Jamie a quick text to let him know I'm nearly home. "Three years."
Hayden's eyebrows knit together. He clearly hadn't been expecting that. "And you're still a virgin?"
I look at him in horror, my cheeks instantly flooding with warmth.
He looks at me before looking back at the road. "What?" he says. "You can ask me personal questions about my life but I can't ask you about yours?"
I scoff at this. "Your question is hardly on the same level as mine."
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. He shakes his head. "Do the poor guy a favor and cut him loose."
I swivel in my seat to face him. "What are you talking about?"
He gives me a knowing look. "It's been three years and you still haven't had sex. He's clearly not doing it for you."
It feels like the heat in my cheeks drops all the way to my stomach. I am mortified, speechless, and for a moment I just stare at him, surprised those words have left his mouth.
"You don't know anything about me or my relationship."
"Like I said at the party," he says. "You're playing it safe."
I fold my arms. "I thought you were too drunk to remember what you said at the party?"
He glances over and flashes a grin. I'm saved from having to hear his response when he pulls up to my house.
"From now on," I say, "I'd appreciate it if you kept your opinions on my relationship to yourself."
"Sure thing, Maddison."
I undo my seatbelt and throw open the door, spinning on my heel to look at him. "Thank you for the ride," I say. Then I slam the door in his face.