Sparring Partners [18+]

BONUS: CHAPTER 1

(Markus)

She looked fucking miserable.

I'd never seen her outside of the gym before; I'd never even see her interacting with anyone other than Dev or Shivanya. It wasn't as if I knew her well, or at all. I didn't know her last name for fuck's sake, so seeing her look so depressed shouldn't have been so surprising. My bloody guts shouldn't rearrange themselves at the sight of such a sullen expression. Maybe she always looked like this. Maybe she always sat at the edge of her group, barely paying attention, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere else but there. Maybe she was simply a dull person. Maybe this is what she looked like when she was happy. How the hell would I know?

Except, as the blonde haired guy next to her leaned in to whisper something in her ear, it was a fierce, undeniable anger that overcame her expression. She flicked his hand away from her as if it were dirt and pushed the man away with a look on her face that burned so ferocious it should have cremated him in his seat.

No, someone who looked like that couldn't be considered dull.

Her glare now directed at her poor drink, I found myself still staring, unable to look away, fucking mesmerised by her presence. Part of me - the most insanely stupid part that completely lacked any sense of self-preservation or common sense - longed for her to turn towards me. For months I'd tried to summon enough confidence to approach her, to introduce myself to her. Hell, Dev had even offered to do it for me and I had still been too damn terrified to do anything about it. Usually my palms would sweat at the mere thought of her.

I'm just watching for her safety, I lied to myself as I continued to stare like a man who had never seen a woman in his Goddamn life. Though, the shit-head beside her hadn't yet seemed to get the fucking hint as one of meaty paws grabbed the back of her and he dared to place his filthy fucking mouth against her when she so obviously didn't want anything to do with him.

Before I could react, before I could do anything other than be a useless witness to her being terrorised so openly in a public setting, she'd already grabbed at his hair, pulling so hard that the guy looked as if he were about to start fucking bawling.

And then I noticed her eyes were on me. How long had she been looking at me? I'd been too busy glaring at the shit-head to notice.

I was tense, so very fucking tense as she continued to stare. Eye contact was not something that came natural to me, and it was certainly not something I enjoyed. But the few pints I'd had, had done well to ease the usual tightness of my chest.

Finally, she yanked the shit-head's face away. He winced and I almost grinned. But she was still watching me, and I was trapped in her gaze. Until Lynch's voice behind me drew me back to reality, tearing me away from the hypnotic charm of her attention.

I felt sick as I turned away from her. Like I had just wasted an opportunity I would never get again. But I was used to that feeling. It often felt as if I were constantly making the worst choices in life, thanks to the anxiety that gripped my heart every second of the day.

I was vaguely aware of her leaving her group, and sitting by herself at the bar. She looked miserable again. That sullen fucking look on her face that was just about the most agonising thing I'd ever seen.

I shouldn't follow her to the bar. I won't follow her, I told myself. For she would surely reject any of my advances. She'd already had one idiot to deal with tonight, she wouldn't want to deal with another. But, that shit-head was still staring after her, looking as if he were five seconds away from following her when she so obviously didn't want to be anywhere near him.

Despite my determination to stay in my fucking seat and mind my own damn business, I found myself downing the rest of my pint and stumbling to my feet, shifting through the drunken crowds of students and locals until I was right beside her at the bar.

Tom, the bartender and a close friend of mine, noticed me immediately but I avoided his eyes as I ordered another round of drinks for our table. Instead, I stared at Daisy out of the corner of my eye like a shy schoolboy with a crush. My throat was tight, my voice uneven, as I asked, "Grown bored already?"

Fucking smooth.

She scoffed, and my throat tightened. It was too late to run away now. She'd heard me. I was here. At the bar. Talking to her.

"You want a drink?" I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could even make sense of them. I was doing this, wasn't I? Trying to flirt with her as if unaware that her imminent rejection was going to crush every inch of my soul.

She was watching me, her eyes on my mouth.

"If your plan is to hit on me, I'm going to have to decline; I'm not really in the mood."

"Wouldn't say I had a plan, but I wanted to make sure he didn't follow you over here. He looks stupid enough to try." I was grinning; grinning through the pain in my chest and the crippling sense of embarrassment to have been rejected so quickly.

"Oh," she breathed, tension in her shoulders easing. And then she smiled at me, and it felt as if I had just been slapped in the fucking face. The alcohol in my system had me relaxed - as relaxed as I could ever get - and yet that fucking smile of hers had me feeling as if I had just been electrocuted. I'd suddenly forgotten how to even breathe in her presence.

I couldn't look away from her, afraid that if I did she would be gone by the time I turned back around. So I continued to stare, grin wide on my face as I added another drink for her onto my tab.

"You friends with the bartender? How often do you come here?"

"Often enough lately that I'm questioning why I haven't seen you here before. I'd definitely remember someone like you." I hadn't meant to lie. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

"I tend to stay away from the run down bars with creepy guys praying on you women," she teased, and it took me wholly by surprise. Deep laughter tumbled from me, and when she ducked her head away, a blush seeping across her cheeks, I felt myself taken aback.

Was she actually interested in me? Was she enjoying my company? Surely not?

"I'm Markus," I introduced, my voice suddenly too deep as I wrestled with the elation welling up within me.

"Daisy."