Spitfire

Chapter 1

One thing I absolutely despised about visiting my brother: he lived in a big city.

Not the big city, but something close enough in my opinion.

I was used to walking down the street and having an open conversation with people I knew and cared for. Here, in Minneapolis, if I walked down the street and said “hi” to someone there would be a high possibility that I would get shanked or shot.

And don’t even get me started on the driving here.

I chuckled to myself as I walked up to my destination.

What am I saying? You can’t drive here without losing either 1) your sanity, or 2) your life. Whatever one came first.

There is one good thing about visiting this place though. I thought with a smile as I walked into the tall, multi-windowed building.

The gym area was expansive-cement floors extending to tall cement walls. The beams on the ceiling were high and rounded. There was no decoration, just posters for different types of athletic clubs.

I smiled and hauled my heavy black bag over my shoulder as I walked over to the front desk.

There was a guy there filling out what looked like appointment forms. His dark, almost black eyes were focused on the papers in his possession and his dusty grey hair was falling into his eyes. He didn’t even look up when I approached him.

“Hello.” I called, dinging the bell on the counter just to make sure he knew I was there.

His eyes flashed to my face and then immediately back down, a small grin playing on his mouth as he spoke.

“Sorry miss. Women’s yoga isn’t until five o’clock this evening.”

I huffed, bending over the counter and ripping the papers from the guy’s hands.

“Now that you don’t have any distractions I would like a pair of your best boxing gloves.” I said sweetly and flicked my brother’s gym pass at his surprised face.

There was a chuckling behind me and I turned around halfway, sharing a smirk with another male. This one had deep brown eyes, a kind smile, and hairs that were shaved to the scalp.

I twisted back to the guy at the front desk, reaching for my gloves and card before walking towards the locker room. It was practically empty on the girl’s side except for two other bags that were sat on the benches. I grabbed the closest locker, eager to get my gear on and start moving.

I could feel something inside me stir in anticipation.

Thanks to the lack of wooded area in this city, my exercise has been limited the past few days. The only type of exertion I had undergone was when I unpacked my clothes at my brother’s apartment.

Needless to say; this was a much needed trip.

I practically ran back to the gym, eyeing the boxing ring with my cool grey eyes. There was a group of people surrounding the area, shouting incoherently at the two people in the middle.

I pushed to the front and was surprised to see the same guy that was behind me by the front desk. I decided to call him brown eyes.

Brown eyes was expertly dodging his opponent’s punches; weaving in and out of reach with a concentrated look over masking his features.

How the hell had he checked in, went to the lockers, put on his gear and already found a sparring partner in the same time that I had simply changed my clothes? It must be a guy thing.

There was a shout and I tuned into the match, watching each faint, each hook and jab, each combination followed by a counterpunch.

I frowned as I continued to watch brown eyes and his opponent clinch.