Fight Like a Girl

r i n g

❝ Rhythm is everything in boxing. Every move you make starts with your heart, and that’s in rhythm or you’re in trouble.❞

-Sugar Ray Robinson

The trouble started with Everett Wesley.

Everett was a rich asshole with no filter- and a face sculpted by the Gods. I know it’s cliche to fall for the bad boy, but I knew the second I saw him that it was meant to be true love. He could change for me, right?

I’m just kidding. I had no feelings besides complete hatred for this boy.

Was I attracted to him physically? Sure. But there was no way in hell that I would fall for I guy that I had absolutely no emotional attraction to.

I had heard about him from one of my old friends, who went to private school with him.

“He’s nothing but trouble, L. He might look like one of those nice boxer boys, but remember that non-douchebag boxer boys don’t exist. Everett sails to the top in douchebaggery.”

Two days after I qualified for sectionals, Everett Wesley entered my life. He catches my attention with a catcall, one of my least favorite ways to try and get a girls’ attention. I’m just tending the front garden, dirt all over me. He’s obviously just horny, because I’m not even close to attractive at the moment

“Hey, good looking.” He begins to walk to toward me, a smirk on his face. I turn away from him, rolling my eyes. “Why so shy?”

I turn back around.

“Oh, I’m not shy. I’m just allergic to idiots like you.”  I give him a fake smile and return to my garden. There are more important things to get done.

“Woah, woah! Can’t a guy just have someone to talk to around here?”

“Sure.” I rip out a weed. “Next time, try giving a handshake instead of using a sex call.”

He reaches his hand out, obviously attempting to shake my hand. I give him the weed instead.

“Thanks! Care to help some more?”

He drops the weed in the grass, instead of the bag, which is standing about 10 feet away from him.

“Nah, gardening is more of a girl thing.”

I’m above the point of scolding him. I just laugh at his stupidity. He sits in the grass beside me.

“I’m Everett Wesley.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“You’ve heard of me?” I can’t help but chuckle.

“Not good things, Wesley. Not good things.”

“Wait a minute- you’re Lane Davis.”

I nod, shocked that he’s even heard of me. Friendless, unsociable me. Though, he was a boxer, and most boxers liked to get dirt on their competitors.

“You’re going against my girlfriend in the state qualifier!”

“Really?”

“Well, she’s not my girlfriend. I just like to make fun of her, ‘cos she’s so freakin’ weird. No offense, but girls’ boxing is so weird. It’s like… fat pigs trying to kill each other. Weak, fat pigs.”

I stop what I’m doing just to give him a look of pure confusion.

“What the hell? How did you think I would not take offense to that?”

“Well, you’re pretty, so…”

“So I’m not a girl? Get out of my yard. Go back to wherever you came from. Where did you even come from?”

He got up and started walking across the street.

“I’ve just moved in! Howdy, neighbor!”

**of course a BRIEF AN**

holy cow. #65 in chicklit. can you say: woah. okay, I don't like this chapter. but everett needs to be introduced. hehe, he's a butthole.

OKAY, A NOTE ON COACH: I've gotten a lot of "ew, I hate him. Why is he even there?" Well, you better wait and see! Everett- you're gonna learn to hate him. Yep. Lol. Thanks guys!