Zane Cyrus is a moody boxer from England. He hates small talk, fake politeness, happiness and most of all he hates it when people can't mind their own business.
Calista-Mae is the epitome of sweet. She cares deeply for those around her and will go...
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ZANE
I DID something that I hate the other night. I got drunk because of how I felt and it's a habit that I'm trying to break. I'm not an alcoholic but I do have unhealthy coping mechanisms.
The alcohol didn't make me feel better. Shocker. And Callie ended up seeing me in my most vulnerable state. I knew instantly that I couldn't let that happen ever again. I don't cry often, not in front of people and certainly not in front of strangers.
I freaked and I pulled back. Part of me thinks that it's unfair to be so hot and cold with Callie but it's less scary than letting her close to me and so I fall back on it constantly. I wish Callie wasn't so nice to me because it makes me feel guilty treating her like this.
Wow, did I really just?
How about not being a dickhead to her? Then I won't have anything to feel guilty about.
I continue playing subway surfers on my phone, it's a pre match ritual at this point and I don't even remember how it started.
I go through the motions before my match, I warm up, listen to music and then walk out. For some annoying reason even though Callie isn't here and I haven't seen her in a week, she's the only thing occupying my mind. Usually my mind is pretty clear when I fight but not this time, not since meeting her.
She's messing with my fucking head.
What I should be focusing on is the six foot something guy in front of me, who looks ready to knock me out. He's Latvian and he's big and he's angry. I hate angry fighters, this is not an emotional sport it's a logical one.
What I am focusing on is the five foot six, copper haired doll who fixes me up when I'm hurt and makes incredible pancakes. The one that made my sisters day and sparked a flame of self-confidence in her that I'm trying desperately to keep alive. The one that's way too fucking nice to me and the one I'm way too fucking nice to.
The guy lands a heavy punch on my face.
Oh shit, have we started?
I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts and refocus my attention. For the most part of the fight I'm focused but it's slips a couple times and I end up letting a few shots through. I get to a point where I'm no longer sure that I'm going to win but then cringe at the thought of losing.
That's embarassing and not happening.
I end up winning the fight but I honestly look a lot worse than the other guy. "You were the better fighter out here, good fight." I tap his glove and he gives me a respectful nod as I exit the ring.
"What's up with you?" Mikey asks as we walk down to the changing rooms.
"I don't know, I'm just distracted." We part ways before he can reply and I change as fast as I can.
