The Traitors

Chapter 11 - Fi

I hated running, but I couldn't deny the tension melting from my shoulders the faster I ran. I upped the pace of the treadmill a few minutes ago, but it hadn't stop me from trying to figure out the designed tattoo on Logan's back. I could see it peaking out from the collar of his beater, but I kept getting lost in his flexing muscles. The man was eye candy when he wasn't hiding his body under gigantic hoodies. The more I drooled over him, the more I realized it was best if he did conceal himself. We had just become friends so the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it.

Still, he was hot.

Focus.

How could I? I was completely enthralled in watching him like a hawk. I admired how skilled he was at boxing, but it seemed like he practiced every day. He said he picked up the hobby a few years ago, but he punched like he had been doing it his whole life. His arms reflected the dedication he put into this. I never thought muscles were the most attractive thing about a guy, but I'd beg to differ now. Perhaps, it wasn't the muscles which drew me in, but the man who had them.

Jesus, Fi. Focus.

This had been my problem all week. I honestly thought keeping myself distracted was the solution to my Trait problem, but it seemed the only thing I had been was distracted. I was irritable from my lack of sleep. I was having strange dreams, but could never seem to remember them once I was awake. Then I'd have trouble going back to sleep due to thoughts of the man in front of me racing through my mind. I caught myself a few times with my hand wedged passed the elastic band of my underwear before I stopped my self indulgence. I wasn't sure what he was doing to me, but was I crazy for liking it?

"This isn't working," I whined as I shut off the treadmill and rested my hands on my hips. Logan whipped around to face me, letting the jostled punching bag slow to a stop.

"Then get in the ring," he pointed to the cheap boxing ring at the center of the room.

That was his answer to everything.

"I don't want to," I groaned, hopping off the treadmill and heading for the ring anyway.

"All you've done is complain since you got here," Logan joked, rolling his eyes as he met me in the center of the ring. 

"I'm in a bad mood," I grumbled folding my arms across my chest. He batted at my arms so I would ready them to fight.

Logan and I had met up a couple times over the course of the past two weeks. No matter what we tried, we couldn't get my Trait to emerge. Instead, he took every opportunity he could to spar with me since he was absolutely fascinated with my mimicking Trait and how quickly I learned skills. We had spent most of our time in the ring last week as I learned how to fight from watching him. 

I was doing well enough, but I wasn't improving. Logan disagreed, but I think he was more excited to face a person instead of a dangling, squishy bag. I could hit back; the bag couldn't. He instructed me to not hold back on my punches while he tapped spots which would be considered hits.

"Aww," Logan cooed, "what's wrong, sunshine?" The nickname was a diversion as he lifted his hands and swung. I barely dodged his fist and narrowed my eyes at him avoiding another hit.

 I felt trapped under his spell as I was becoming infatuated with him, but I couldn't tell him that.

"I'm frustrated," I stepped forward matching his energy and swung. He blocked with his left arm and retaliated with his right. I grunted taking a weak, unexpected punch to the stomach. 

"Pay attention to my movements," he instructed, but that's all I had been doing. "Why are you frustrated?"

Because I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was my favorite distraction and I had a hard time admitting it to myself, let alone him. He was just so...genuine and raw. I would replay our interactions over and over in my head, remembering his conscientious subtleties and gentleness.