Broken Beautiful Hearts

17. Against the Ropes

Owen stands on the opposite side of the ropes, his eyes still glued to the mat. He's shirtless and barefoot, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His black shorts hang low on his hips, and my gaze flickers to a set of perfect abs he has the kind of body you see on twenty-five-year-old underwear models, not high school guys.

Heat spreads through my chest. Less than twenty minutes ago, I was in the pool drooling over his body.

Owen's body.

He finally raises his head and our eyes lock. A crease forms between his brows and he looks miserable, like he'd rather scrub the place down with a toothbrush than spend three afternoons a week working with me.

I turn away first, which gives me a ridiculous amount of satisfaction. This whole situation feels like a giant bitch-slap from the universe. My hand tightens on the plastic water bottle I'm holding and I shake my head.

"What?" Owen leans on the ropes, his shoulders tense.

"Your a fighter?" I spit out the word. Now I know where he got the bruises on his arms.

"Yeah." He stands straighter. "But unlike your boyfriend, Titan, who starts fights with anybody who looks at him in the wrong way, I try to keep my fights in the cage."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Without thinking, I chuck the plastic water bottle at him.

Owen's eyes widen and he pivots out of the way but the bottle pegs him in the side.

Lazarus winces and makes a hissing sound between his teeth. "Ouch."

"That must have hurt," Cutter says smirking at Lazarus as he tries not to laugh. "I guess they already know each other."

The boxers in the back corner of the gym take a break to watch us. "There's nothing wrong with her arm, that's for sure," Lazarus says.

Owen rubs the spot where the bottle hit him. "What's your problem?"

"You first."

He swipes a gray hoodie off the mat, shoves his arms in the sleeves, and yanks it over his head. Then he ducks between the ropes and jumps down from the ring. "What's that supposed to mean?"

My pulse pounds and the air feels heavy as if the room is getting hotter. Why did I make a fool myself and throw that stupid bottle at him? Who cares if Owen gave me crap about Titan?

I want to get out of here. I walk towards the glass doors that lead out of the gym. Owen rushes ahead of me and plants himself in front of the door, blocking my path.

I could probably squeeze by him, but that would involve touching him - something I'm not doing after I just spent thirty minutes gawking at his body from the pool.

"Please move." I lower my voice. We're far enough from the ring that no one can over here our conversation unless we raise our voices.

Owen looks down at me. "You can't leave. What about physical therapy?" He's watching me and I look anywhere but at him.

"Not your problem."

"It is if you walk out of here and Cutter gets pissed at me." he says.

"And that's not my problem." I avoid his eyes.

"What did you mean by 'you first'? I never said I had a problem with you."

I snort. "You made it pretty clear in English."

Owen clasps his hands behind his neck and stairs up at the ceiling. "I just didn't think you were the kind of girl who would get mixed up with Titan."

"I'm not mixed up with anyone. You're making lots of assumptions. Titan is friends with my cousins and he offered to help me find my classroom. I didn't ask him to pick me up and make a big scene. But even if I did, that doesn't make him my boyfriend."