Alchemized (Michael Jackson Fan fiction)

Interested

Sorry for the extra long wait. I had a baby back in March and it has been extremely challenging to make the time to update. I'm trying my best to find a new norm. Please be patient with me. 

(Brielle)

I walked out of the women's locker room and he was the first person I saw when I made it onto the giant mat.

He was in his usual spot near the back doing his own thing. Eyes sharp and focused on his target as he gave his punchbag deadly jabs and crosses.

I told myself I was just going to ignore him after the way he stood me up at the bar. I sat down on the mat and spread my legs for some deep stretches. As I leaned forward to touch my left foot, I stole a glance in his direction.

The man was gorgeous as ever and it irked me a little. His muscles flexed with every move he made and thanks to his cut-off sleeve tank I had a perfect visual. He was already coated in sweat, making me wonder how long he'd been here. The rest of us were just arriving. I shook my head at him even though he hadn't seem to notice me yet. Although, I had a feeling deep down that he knew I was watching him. That could explain why his workout suddenly got more intense as if he was starting to show out for some reason. Was he playing games with me?

The more annoyed I got with him, the more I realized that he owed me an explanation. I had a few minutes before my class started. So, I got back on my feet and made my way over to him. I stopped a couple of feet away, making sure I gave him enough room for all the fighting combos he was doing. I crossed my arms as I waited for him to notice he wasn't alone. When he kept on throwing punches, I cleared my throat. That was how I got him to smirk and finally leave his punching bag alone. "I was wondering how long you were just going to stand there watching me." He turned to look at me. He wasn't smiling anymore but humor still lingered in his eyes.

"I'm only here to give you a chance to explain," I retorted curtly.

He quirked an eyebrow, but I could see he knew exactly what I was talking about.

I elaborated anyway. "Why ask me to meet you somewhere if you weren't going to show?"

"Who said I didn't show?"

I was getting irritated again. "Are you playing games with me?"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't do games, Purple."

"Oh, really?" I wasn't convinced. "Then what's with this nickname game we keep playing? You haven't bothered to ask for my real name."

"Brielle Moore." He uttered my name to my surprise. "I don't ask questions I already know the answer to. I call you Purple because it's your favorite color, I'm assuming." He gestured at my purple highlights with his boxing glove.

I was taken aback for a moment. "So, how did you find out my name then? Did you ask someone?"

"Didn't have to," was his only response.

"Okay. So, are you going to tell me yours?"

He came closer and leaned in. I held my breath and kept my eyes on his glistening neck since I was eye level with it. His smell was enticing, musky and almost spicy. "Why? You interested?" he asked seductively.

I swallowed but didn't back away. "Depends."

"On?" he probed.

"What kind of person you are?"

He watched me closely. All traces of a smile gone from his lips. "Hmph," he uttered thoughtfully and then went back to his swinging bag.

"I mean, do you normally ask girls out for a drink and then leave them high and dry?"