The First Punch [t.h.]

Chapter 3 - Hold Your Breath

Tom is almost visibly holding his breath. He's just waiting for SJ to say something snarky, pushy him away from her just something but she does nothing. She says nothing. The only sounds surrounding them were those of the city and club. Tom barely knows her name, and by barely, he doesn't even know what the hell her name stands for so it really isn't his wisest decision to be sitting outside in the middle of the night with his competition. 

He shouldn't be doing it because he doesn't know what she'll do or say, or worse, what Arthur will do or say if he sees them. Arthur hasn't said anything about Tom getting to know other boxers or dating or messing around with people but by the man's demeanor and strictness on where Tom can even train, Tom can bet Arthur wouldn't be happy.

So why is he even bothering?

"Hey." Tom finally breaks the silence.

SJ looks away from him, leaning her head against the brick wall. "Hey."

"You alright?" Tom asks and SJ swears his accent is stronger than it was earlier.

She looks to him and he looks tired. Damp hair, curls popping from under his hood, blue and yellow decorating his face, and traces of blood stains near his nose. He looks tired.

"I'm fine." SJ says, looking away from him.

"Are you sure? You can-"

"What?" SJ scoffs. "Tell you about whatever may or may not be wrong?"

SJ's quick response and suddenly snappy tone catches him off guard. "Well...yeah. If you wanted."

"Competition." SJ mumbles. "Wouldn't tell you anyway, how I am, just for the record."

Tom sighs. "Why's it matter that we're competition?"

SJ resituates, crossing her legs and looking Tom up and down. "Underarmor hoodie, what're those? Hunder'd dollar NIKE's, right?" Tom looks down to his shoes with her words before she continues. "Your hair still lays pretty nice which means you probably use decent product. That means you're in the beauty industry which is doubtful or you spend some nice money on it. American Crew? Woody's? Big Sexy? Those are at least the professional ones that aren't insanely expensive. Your pants look to be brand new, three strips, Adidas, right? Your accent is still incredibly thick which means you probably haven't lived here very long."

"Okay." Tom shakes his head, a knot forming in his stomach as he senses where she's headed with this, looking over her own attire.

A plain black hoodie that's clearly a bit faded and a little too big, track pants with a few paint stains and a brand logo Tom doesn't recognize. Her hair has the blue stripes but he's not sure the cost. Her nails aren't done and maybe that's just because it'd be hard to keep up with her boxing or maybe she can't afford to have them done. She has on a pair of NIKEs but they look like she's been wearing them for years. Their financial standpoints are very different.