‣ friday

214 28 52
                                    

    ❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂❂   

D A Y 1 5 

monday, morning after

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

monday, morning after

  ↓  


   ❝SUCCESS IS THE ONLY 
MOTHERF*CKING OPTION,

FAILURE'S NOT.❞

 The music blasts through my ear phones as I exercise to what Sara Amato calls a basic warm up just to enter the ring. As my face continuously grows warmer, I feel my breath come in so labored I wonder if my lungs could possibly burst.

   And if they do, I wonder if I'll be morbidly pleased or in more pain? Sara may have the best interest for the women in NXT, but what she calls easy routine workouts, I call torture.

   Being one of the last to complete my set, a few of the girls throw me dirty side eyed glances as I approach one of the practice rings. I keep a straight face, only focusing on Adrienne whom stands in the center of the ring with Matt Bloom and Amato.

   ❝That was❞ Rami begins as he steps onto my right. ❝INTENSE.❞ Fergal heavily exhales as he tries catching his breath. With the Irishman on my left and that red-headed Canadian I apparently made a great tag-team lap dance partner with on my right ... I feel a bit encumbered to say the least.

   Glancing at the labored state of Devitt, my eyes helplessly wander onto his god-like abs that are concealed by his tight shirt, but still noticeable. 

   ❝How the hell were you one of the last to finish?❞ I blurt out as he catches me so blatantly staring. I look away like a shy school girl, refusing to let that insanely good looking devil to think I'm having fantasies about him being shirtless, his marble pale flesh and chiseled abs writhing in pleasures as —

❝It's not about how fast you finish. It's about how much effort you put into it.❞ Fergal explains as I blink, definitely having lost my train of thoughts to his perfect everything.

   ❝But look at you.❞ I still argue, cursing my traitorous mind that just speaks its thoughts with zero filters. ❝What about me?❞ Devitt innocently questions as I shut my eyes, lovingly hating that bloke.

   I would love to argue that he knows just how damn attractive he is, but truth of the matter is, he really doesn't know. Better said, he doesn't relish in it. Never once had I caught him flexing in front of a reflective surface, and in a room full of women and men who constantly took full body selfies all for the purpose of showing their goods, that was relieving as hell.

   Unlike some of the vain superstar's I've had the displeasure of meeting, Fergal couldn't be more of an oblivious child-like, adult. 

❝I'd just thought that with your physique ... you'd be a little faster. That's all.❞ I shrug as he nods once, thoughtfully. ❝Just because I'm smaller than most guys, doesn't mean I'll be lightning fast. It's a bad stereotype.❞ Fergal then responds with his arm tucked onto the small of his back.

PIECE(S) ˎˊ˗Where stories live. Discover now