𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡

Ch.13 - The First Fist

"Patience, Don't look at anyone. Don't talk to anyone. And don't go anywhere unless you're with me."

Maybe it's just me, but I get the feeling that the building with large letters, spelling out Buff's Gym, above the entrance, isn't exactly on the good side of the law.

And we happen to be standing right outside of said building.

All in all, the structure itself didn't look as bad as the neighborhood around it did. A bit rundown to say the most. But I'm thinking the source of my ominous feeling is coming from shady-looking figures around us. Men were all resting in various places. Leaning against walls, sitting on car hoods, you name it. Every single one had tattoos and looked threatening. Like, hide yo wife, hide yo kids kind of threatening. More men and their buddies came and went up the street, occasionally one had a girlfriend latched to his arm.

I've seen five police cars since I arrived here. I'll take that as a sign we're on the bad side of town...

Dean had called the house this morning to tell remind me to meet him here. How he got my home phone number is beyond me.

"Patience..." Dean said slowly, anger lacing his tone. He's been talking to me the whole time, hasn't he?

"No interaction with the human race. Got it." I vaguely confirmed while nodding, pretending to have heard his earlier directions. Dean's jaw ticked in irritation.

"Kill the sarcasm, Phillips. I'm serious."

"I'm listening," I said flatly.

We both turned and walked across the street into the gym. The second we walked through the doors, I was almost knocked out by the amount of testosterone flooding the air.

I am in no way exaggerating. Shirtless and sweaty men with herculean-like bodies were lifting weights, sparring in rings, or going at it on various styles of punching bags. Even the air itself was cloudy with manly musk. I wouldn't be surprised if I went home with a prostate from all this male exposure.

This place is also bigger inside than it appeared initially. The layout seemed to be split into two large parts. One had a metal caged ring with intimidating men pretty much-putting karate masters to shame, while the other had a boxing ring with even scarier guys pounding the crap out of each other's faces. The building also consisted of two floors. The second being a small office with a window that overlooked the entire gym. No doubt that's for the owner to keep an eye on everything.

Speaking of eyes, there is a guy in the corner shamelessly gawking at my body.

Don't make eye contact Patience. Don't make eye contact...

I began feeling very exposed in my own clothes. My white t-shirt is over-washed, so it hugs my figure much too closely for my liking, and these gym shorts happen to be volleyball shorts. So they give everybody an open view of my legs. Probably note the smartest wardrobe choice for tonight.

For the wrong person, I look like high school lunch, if you get my point. I nervously fumbled with the hem of my shirt. If Dean noticed my discomfort, he gave no indication of it. He only turned around and motioned for me to speed up.

I wonder if these men can smell fear?

Dean brought us over to an area with mats on the floors and walls.

"You might want to put your hair up. It'll get in the way." He suggested, noticing the length of my curls.

Being the obedient little Patience I am, my arms went halfway up to make the ponytail, but I came to a dead halt when I remembered why my hair was down in the first place.