Jessie Kensington thought she had escaped her troubled past when she faked her death and started a new life as Violet Arrowood. But three years later, she finds herself at Vanguard University on a scholarship, trying to build the future she always d...
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We are piled in Ty's car, the radio humming softly as we roll into an empty parking lot. The place is eerily empty, and it sends a shiver down my spine. A large, rundown building looms at the end of the lot, its banged-up sign barely legible in the fading light. I squint, trying to make out the name, but the whole atmosphere screams "Jessie's hometown." This place looks dodgy and my nerves are on edge.
"Lenny's?" Clara reads, clearly better at deciphering the graffiti-style lettering than I am.
The name is spray-painted neatly on the sign, with black and red boxing gloves crossed beneath it. Ty gets out of the car, leaving us alone and more than a little confused.
"Is this just a pit stop, or—" Bang, bang! Clara and I jump as Ty suddenly knocks on the car window. I release Clara's arm, which I instinctively grabbed.
"You two better hurry up," Ty smirks. "Two pretty girls alone in a place like this? That's just asking for trouble." Clara and I exchange looks before scrambling out of the car, jogging to catch up with him. I push down the flutter in my stomach at the thought of him calling me pretty.
It smells like chemicals and something else that I can't place— feet, it smells like feet. This is the first time I have set foot in a gym. Sure, I've walked past them, wondering what it might be like inside, but I could never afford one—and I didn't need one. Running was always enough. But lately, I've found myself googling self-defence classes and eyeing the advertisement boards at uni. I thought if I ever did join a gym, there would be some kind of empowerment that went with it, but now that I'm here, I don't feel empowered; instead, I feel small. The boxing bags hanging from heavy chains, the fighting rings in the corners—they all make me shrink inside myself.
Ty drops his bag onto the blue, cushioned ground, pulling out gloves and wraps that I vaguely recognise from hanging on Mikey's garage wall near a makeshift punching bag. Clara, unfazed, plops down and starts fiddling with his stuff until he shoots her a dirty look. She throws her hands up in mock surrender.
"What's the deal, Ty? You beat all the guys at the gym, so now you want a real challenge?" She winks at me, and I appreciate the return of her usual confident humour.
Ty doesn't answer. Instead, he tosses some stuff from his bag onto the ground between us just as the gym doors swing open.
"Ty, you fucker." A guy I don't recognise strides in, towering over Ty— which is saying something. Tattoos cover his sleeveless arms, his white tank clinging to bulging muscles. He's intimidating, to say the least. They approach each other, and for a second, I think they're going to fight, but then they do that universal bro hug thing, laughing. I have to look away; seeing Ty laugh feels too intimate, too close. My cheeks burn.
"Girl, you are so screwed," Clara whispers beside me.
I'm about to ask her what she means, but the ground dips near me as Ty and the guy, who I assume is the gym owner, steps in front of us.
