KNOCKOUT

Chapter 9

We walk back toward the locker room, and I let myself glance back one time at Eli. He's watching us like I knew he would be, but I'm happy that he's sitting in his seat looking miserable. I'm sure watching Holden fight was one of his reasons for coming tonight, but I think his biggest reason had more to do with me. This was the one place he knew I would be.

I feel Holden's arm wrap around my waist and I keep my head down from the journalists and photographers surrounding us. They're shouting questions to Holden, most of them about his past fight with Eli and how it felt to be back in the ring today. He smiles once for a photographer before leaning down to press closer to me. Eventually, he may have to talk to some reporters to get himself back out there completely, but right now he just wants to be left alone.

We enter the hallway with the locker rooms, all of the reporters getting stopped by security behind us.

Holden sighs in relief when the camera flashes finally stop, leading me into his locker room.

Once we've all entered the room, the door closes with a loud bang behind us, shutting us off from all the screaming and cheering still ensuing in the arena. The quiet is nice; it's like the calm after a storm. The air is silent, fresh with whatever the rain has left, and the only desire is to crawl into bed and take a nap.

Holden tugs me closer to him, ignoring the hyped men in the room, "We did it, T."

"You did it, Samuels."

"Nope," he shakes his head. "I never would've gone back out there if you weren't in my life."

I want to point out there's a chance he never would've had a reason to walk away from boxing in the first place if I wasn't in his life. However, I know that will upset him, so I keep my mouth shut about it.

"Well, how do you feel then, H?"

"Like I'm on top of the world, my love."

The nickname sends my heart fluttering, a big smile permanently etched onto my face from it.

"The cut above your eye doesn't need stitches," I mention. "Which is a good thing."

He shrugs, "It'll just be a little bit sore, I'm okay."

I ignore the dried blood smeared across Holden's forehead, placing a gentle kiss into his hair.

"Mate, you wanna go out to celebrate?" Nathan asks. "My brother just said he could get us into Strive. It's the most popular club in New York, can't pass it up."

Holden laughs, shaking his head, "I can get into Strive without your brother, I'm Holden Samuels."

Alex's voice carries across the room, "Always the narcissistic wanker, Mr. Big Shot."

Holden releases me, crossing the room to roughhouse with Alex. I watch the men fumble around for a few minutes, finally stopping them when Holden traps Alex's neck, forcing him into a headlock.

"Oi!" I shout. "You're a boxer, not a wrestler, Samuels."

"Did you just say 'Oi'?"

I shrug, "What's wrong with it?"

Holden covers his mouth to stifle his laughter, desperately trying to ignore the other boys' chuckles.

"Nothing's wrong with it, you're just American," he explains.

"And you're British."

"Exactly," he chuckles. "It's normal when I say it because everybody in the UK says it, baby. It's not so popular here."