How to Be a Bad Girl ✔

Chapter Sixteen - Consequences

That fucking jerk.

I punch the heavy bag with my left hand. How dare he? My right hand delivers a strong jab to the bag. How dare he twisted the story and said that I was the one coming onto him? I bounce up and down on my toes before launching five alternating straight punches with both hands.

Worse, how dare he said I punched him because he rejected me?

Clenching my jaw, I continue channeling my frustration and anger by throwing a string of hard punches towards the heavy bag. Everything that happens, starting from last night until this morning, plays back in my mind like some kind of a broken TV: his mockery, the punch that landed on his face – which was a very good punch, by the way – and Angela's phone call.

I stop moving in an instant. My chest rises up and down as sweat falls down my temple. The thought of losing my job makes my head burns. I swallow hard, trying to contain the tears that are starting to form behind my eyes and focusing on my anger instead.

Dragging my right leg backward and assuming a fighting stance, I throw a rear hook to the swinging bag. I can't believe Angela fired me because of that jerk.

How could she believe him more than me?

Trading the disappointment with anger, my punches get faster and harder. Dull, throbbing pain begins to spread on my fists, yet I keep on punching, imagining it to be that jerk's face instead of a heavy bag.

Die, you bastard, die!

"Ow!" I scream out loud as a sudden, sharp pain shoots through my left wrist. I try to untie the laces on my gloves by using my teeth, but it only tightens the knots instead. Right now, the only thing I can do is bite my inner lips to try and muffle my pained cry. "Fuck!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" a boy's slightly nasal voice says. I glance to my right, Dylan is now running towards me, concern fills his green eyes as he stares at my pink leather gloves. "Are you okay?"

"If I'm okay, would I scream?" I retort.

He sneers at my remarks and shrugs. "Well, it looks like you don't need any of my help. Good luck, then." He flashes a wide, mocking grin.

The pale boy turns around and walks away from me, taking each step very, very slowly – as if waiting for me to yield and say the magic word. I glance around me in search for anyone else who might be able to help me, but Lady Luck is clearly not on my side today. A quick look at the clock on the wall tells me it's almost 9 P.M. Considering this is a Monday night, it makes sense we're the only people working out here right now. But, where the heck is Lizzie?

When I first got here today, she offered to help me with my training. But, stupid me refused, thinking I needed some alone time to 'unleash my wrath'. I try to recall what happened next and that's when I remember her approaching me sometime after that. I was too angry to pay attention to what she was saying, but... I think she said something about an emergency and leaving the keys to... Dylan?

Oh, crap.

In the meantime, the pain keeps on throbbing around my wrist. Why did I work out in this shitty gym again? My gaze is then drawn to the tall boy before me. I guess I don't have any other choice, huh?

My eyes roll up before I exclaim, "Wait!"

Dylan stops moving and looks over his shoulder, his fine brows arch. A victorious yet mischievous smile is lurking at the edges of his mouth.

Dammit! I take a long, deep breath, before I say with a heavy, heavy, heart, "Sorry."

His smile grows even bigger and more contented as he turns around, making my lips form a disgruntled pout. A teasing look is in his eyes as he puts his hand behind his back and swings his shoulders playfully.