5 Rounds: An Enemies to Lovers Sports Romance (The Fight Game Book 1)

by Nikki Castle

  I smile as I watch people approach him with eager fist bumps and claps on the shoulder. The biggest testament to our gym's family feel is everyone's reactions to a fighter's performance. If they put on the performance of their lives and win a belt, we celebrate as if we were the ones that won—and if they suffer a horrible loss, we drown our sorrows at the bar right there next to them. We train as a family; we fight as a family.

  "Overhands for days, baby," I grin when I finally reach the man of the hour. He squeezes me in an excited hug, keeping his arm around my shoulders even after he lets me go.

  "That is the greatest fucking feeling ever," he says excitedly. "It was so insane, Remy. I actually watched his eyes roll in the back of his skull. I don't think even a good fuck can compare to that feeling." He looks around the bar with a grin. “Not that I wouldn’t love one of those tonight, too.”

  A loud, happy laugh bursts out of me. "Let's get you a beer, hotshot."

  I order Max his favorite IPA and then stand quietly next to him at the bar while he regales his fight to our teammates. Even people that we don't know are listening to him, all of them fascinated by our excitement and interested in hearing about fighting. I smile into my beer, content to watch Max bask in his glory.

  After a while I let my gaze wander around the rest of the bar. Hailey is still locked into her conversation with Lucy, and most of the other guys are still glued to Max.

  My attention snags on Tristan in the far corner of the bar. He's leaning on a high top, his gaze focused on the cute brunette in front of him. I can't see her face, but I have a perfect view of Tristan's. He’s wearing his trademark bad boy smirk and blatantly looking over her body, and I can tell it's having the intended effect because I see the girl giggle and touch his arm, pressing even closer to him. His grin grows.

  I turn my attention back to Max, not wanting to stare at Tristan's pickup attempt. I try to focus on whatever weight cut story Max is entertaining the group with.

  Barely a minute later, I see Tristan's companion turn away from him out of the corner of my eye. She starts to walk toward the back of the bar, seemingly heading for the restroom. When she turns, I get a look at her for the first time.

  She's short, and undoubtedly cute, but only one thing catches my attention: she's got dark red lips.

  I can't stop my startled glance toward Tristan. I find him staring at me, eyebrow quirked in question. My own eyebrows shoot to my hairline in surprise.

  He grins and finishes the last of his beer, at which point I hurriedly turn away from him and back to my own group. I force myself not to look over at him again.

  But when I sneak a glance back a few minutes later, Tristan is gone. I sigh in relief.

  Although the feeling of relief is short-lived, because it's not long before I hear Hailey yell, "Remy, come get your man. He's one shot away from once again trying to prove he can shotgun a beer bottle."

  I sigh into my beer. Downing the last of it, I leave the bottle on the bar and step into my role of Jax's babysitter.

  I groan as I blink my eyes open. Despite only having a few drinks last night, I've always been susceptible to headaches the morning after a night out. I press my hands to my forehead with a wince.

  I hear a resounding groan from next to me and turn to see Jax emulating my hands-in-face position.

  "The next time you grumble about me taking the tequila from you during the pregame, I'm going to remind you of this very moment," I growl at him. He only grunts and pulls the covers over his head.

  I unwind myself from the sheets and slowly stand upright. When my headache doesn't intensify, I pull my sweatshirt over my head and quietly walk out of the bedroom.

  I've lost track of the amount of times people have reacted in disbelief when Jax and I have admitted to sleeping in the same bed. Like they can't believe a guy and girl could possibly sleep together without sleeping together.

  The thought always makes Jax and I cringe.

  It doesn't happen as much anymore—only occasionally when Jax gets too drunk, and I want to be sure he makes it to his bed. But it was a frequent occurrence when we were in college. Since we attended separate schools, we wanted to spend as much time together as we could when we actually did meet up, so I often stayed the night at his house. Not once did it ever feel weird or like we wanted to do anything other than sleep.

  Sometimes we would joke about how that wouldn't have been possible without the awkward—and cringe-worthy—kiss we shared when we were seventeen.

  It probably helps, too, that Jax doesn't have any problem finding a girl to actually sleep with if he wants to. Girls flock to his massive muscular form and charming personality.

  I make my way downstairs to the kitchen for a bottle of water. As I turn the corner, I see Tristan straightening from where he's pulling something from the fridge. I balk when I realize he's only wearing boxers.

  "Christ, it's too early for this," I squeak, covering my eyes. "Can we tone down the bachelor pad for just long enough for me to get out of here? My eyes are burning."

  When I peek through my fingers, Tristan is staring at me with an amused look on his face.

  "You know, I'm still not entirely convinced you're not a virgin," he drawls.

  "Trust me, I'm no virgin," I mutter under my breath. I see Tristan's eyebrow quirk in response. "I just don't feel like being accosted by borderline nudity from anyone I don't want to fuck."

  "Oh, honey, you don't know what you're missing," someone purrs from behind me. I see a self-satisfied smirk stretch across Tristan's face just before I spin around.

  And come face to face with the cute brunette from the bar last night.

  My eyes widen as I take her in. She's dressed in the same outfit as last night, but her hair is rumpled and there's no sign of the dark lipstick she was wearing. Ignoring my speechlessness, she walks over to Tristan and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. "Call me," she says with a smile, before turning around and walking out the front door.

  Tristan's grin seems to grow as my silence stretches on.

  "Are you kidding me?!" I finally explode. "You were at the bar for like, fifteen minutes. You actually managed to pick her up?"

  Tristan's smile doesn't waver as he shrugs.

  I shake my head in disbelief. "Unbelievable," I mumble. "I will never understand what women are thinking."

  Finally, Tristan turns away with a chuckle. He grabs his water bottle and steps around me to head back up the stairs. "Regardless, you better get used to it. If you and I are going to be roommates, then you're going to be seeing a lot of it."

  I glare at his retreating back. "About that. We still need to set our ground rules. I don't want to deal with a revolving door of women while I'm here." He doesn't respond, which only annoys me further. "Tristan. Tristan! I'm serious!"

  His chuckle floats down the hallway.

  4

  Remy

  I'm surrounded by bubble wrap and moving boxes when Hailey walks into my apartment later that day. She stands in the doorway and looks around in shock.

  "How do you have so much kitchenware for someone that can barely make a grilled cheese?"

  I glower at her as I clear yet another drawer. "Very funny. We can't all be Gordon Ramseys, you ass. And I'm perfectly capable of following any intermediate recipe, hence the many kitchen appliances. Now grab some bubble wrap and make yourself useful."

  She rolls her eyes and takes her sweatshirt off. She grabs a box and helps me pack the last few drawers in my kitchen.

  "How was Jax feeling this morning?" Hailey asks me as we move to the cabinets.

  I roll my eyes. "How do you think? He didn't leave his bed until 2:00, and even then, it was just to pay the Chinese delivery guy." I shake my head, remembering the image of an ogre-sized Jax hidden under a blanket opening the door to a wide-eyed Chinese restaurant employee. "I will never understand how he's so bad at drinking when he does so much of it at work conferences and happy hours. How does he keep his shit together for work
the day after a bad party night?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine," Hailey chuckles.

  I reach for the mugs in my designated coffee cabinet. "You seemed pretty buddy-buddy with Lucy last night," I comment. "What were you guys talking about?"

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hailey's flinch. I straighten with a frown and turn my full attention toward her.

  Recognizing that I'm now expecting a real answer, she starts to fidget with the bubble wrap in her hands, avoiding making eye contact with me. After a long few moments, she takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. "We were talking about long term relationships," she mumbles.

  My frown deepens. "What about them?"

  Hailey turns back to look at what's in her hands again. "Just about what changes are normal when you've been with someone for a long time. Lucy's been in long term relationships and has seen both good ones and bad ones, so I picked her brain for most of the night." She pauses. "There have been a few things that feel different with Steve lately, and I just wanted to get her opinion on whether or not I should be worried."

  I grimace, turning back to the cabinets in an effort to hide my reaction from her. We've always been close to each other and have never hesitated to share something, so the fact that she's talking to someone else hurts me a little. But I want to be sensitive about this, so I don't want my discomfort to make her feel guilty about going to someone else.

  Still, I can't help but ask, "Why didn't you want to talk to me about it?"

  She finally looks at me, the guilt clearly showing in her eyes, and I've already decided I can't be mad at her. For anything. "It's not that I didn't want to talk to you, I just… Lucy has experience with this kind of stuff. And you… I know you say you can know everything about your compatibility with a guy in a few months but that doesn't exactly make them long-term relationships. I just didn't think you'd have anything to say. I'm sorry." She hangs her head in shame.

  I sigh and climb off the ladder so I can drop myself into the pile of bubble wrap next to her. We're not exactly an affectionate family, but we're open enough to give each other our undivided attention when we talk like this. I want her to know I'm here for her and that she can talk to me about anything, even if she thinks I'll have nothing to say. We know from watching our family that keeping shit bottled up only makes problems worse.

  "Do you want to talk about it now?" I ask her softly, punching her lightly in the leg. Mock violence is the extent of any affectionate contact in our family.

  She cringes but gives me an honest answer. "Not really," she says softly. After a moment she punches me back. "I'm just really confused and kind of embarrassed about the whole thing, so I didn't want to tell you. But I also don't want to keep you in the dark since I know it's not fair to talk to other people and not you."

  I don’t say anything. I just wait patiently, giving her time and space to share what she wants.

  "Things are just… weird right now," she explains, nervously wringing her hands in her lap. "I can’t really pinpoint why. That’s why I was talking to Lucy. I was trying to figure out what things are usually like after the honeymoon phase."

  I wince and pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. As much as I want to tell Hailey she should break up with the guy if she doesn’t want to be with him anymore, I also recognize that she's the only one that can make that decision. If I give her my honest opinion, she'll probably just interpret it as me doing my usual jump-ship routine.

  "Are you unhappy?" I finally ask her.

  She sighs and leans back against the cabinets. "That's the thing. Not really. I'm happy like 85% of the time. The other 15% I just feel kind of moody and uncomfortable. Which doesn't sound like a bad ratio when I say it out loud. I mean, no relationship is perfect, right?"

  "I don't know, Hailes," I tell her honestly. I tighten my arms around my legs and study her thoughtfully. "The only thing I know is that you deserve all the happiness in the world, so if he's not giving you a massive amount of that then he isn't good enough for you."

  I see her swallow roughly as she nods and looks down at her hands again. I can sense she wants the conversation to be over, so I try one last shot at honesty.

  "But what do I know, I'd jump ship the second Bennie the Bat entered my mind," I shrug.

  Hailey laughs and I swear that sound makes my heart happier than any other.

  Still chuckling, she reaches for the box that she’s been packing my kitchen utensils into. I take her cue and stand to finish my own boxing.

  "So, when are the movers coming?" Hailey asks as she tapes up the box, ending our heart to heart. I let her, knowing it's not the last we'll talk about it, but also that I won't push until she makes her own decision.

  I can't help the laugh that bursts out of me. "Movers? I practically live at a gym full of massive men. I have the pick of any muscle I want." I reach for the half-filled box of plates.

  She flashes a big grin at me. "Yes, you do."

  I glare at her over a stack of boxes. "Don't even start. Jax will lose his shit if he hears you’re ogling any of the guys again."

  "Trust me, I know," she mutters.

  "Plus, I'd rather just pay the guys," I continue. "Aiden and Dane are both college students so I know they could use the money. They're coming on Saturday to move most of my shit to a storage locker, and a few boxes over to Jax's place. Once I have the keys to the new apartment, I'll pay them another few hours to move it all." I roll my eyes, once again reminded how inconvenient this whole double-move thing is. "Again."

  Hailey winces when she has the same thought. "Hey, at least you got a great deal on your new apartment. Your new place is so cute, I'm actually jealous that you found it so cheap."

  I sigh, propping my hands on my hips and looking around my apartment. "Yeah, but I think I'm going to miss this place. This was the first apartment I ever got on my own. It's weird to think I've been here for almost three years. I feel like these walls have seen the biggest phases of my life: post-college existential crisis, moving from the arts to Corporate America, God knows how many shitty boys, all of it." In a moment of uncharacteristic emotion, I pout at the sudden sadness that overcomes me from reliving those memories. "Fuck, I really am going to miss this apartment. Goddamnit, Dan."

  Hailey stops wrapping bubble wrap around the mug in her hands and gives me a sympathetic look. "Just think of it as a new chapter. A better one. You've always said your life gets better with every year, maybe what comes next will be even better than the memories you have right now. Starting with that insane kitchen and the wall-to-wall windows in your new apartment."

  I sigh and drop my hands in defeat. "I hope so," I mutter.

  A week later, I'm parking in front of Jax's house and dragging my last suitcase behind me.

  I stop in front of the door and take a deep breath. "It's just ten days," I mutter to myself. "I can do this."

  When I finally push the door open and walk in, I immediately hear that the guys already have the fights on. They've also started drinking, which means they're both screaming at the TV.

  "Ah come on, I saw that head kick coming from a mile away! I can't believe you just got caught with that!" Jax throws a hand up in annoyance. He chugs the rest of his beer and slams it on the side table, which is littered with empty beer cans.

  I roll my eyes at their dramatics as I hang my jacket up and walk into the kitchen. "You want another one?" I ask Jax over my shoulder. For the first time in a while, it's only the three of us. Typically, there's a whole horde of fighters lounging on the couches.

  "Yeah, thanks," he mutters, distracted.

  "You're not going to ask me if I want one?" Tristan teases. "If we're gonna be roommates then we should at least be amicable."

  I glare at the back of his head as I grab two beers from the fridge. "As far as I'm concerned, you and I will live entirely separate lives for the next ten days and will try as hard as we possibly can to ignore the other's existence." I walk around the kitchen island and h
and Jax his beer. "Basically, every man for himself," I declare as I throw myself on the couch.

  Tristan grabs the beer from my hand. "I don't know if I can abide by those rules," he grins. "You're way too fun to infuriate." I try to take the drink back from his hand but he's too damn long for me to even come close to my target.

  I scowl and cross my arms over my chest. "How is it possible for you to be this much of a child?" I jump over the back of the couch with a huff and stomp into the kitchen for another beer.

  "I'm a child?" Tristan says, his hand placed mockingly over his heart. "I'm the one who's trying to put our differences aside and be civil to each other!"

  I hear Jax groan and drop his head into his hands. Honestly, I feel the same way. Both of us can see right through Tristan's charade. There’s not an ounce of him that actually wants to be friends, he's just enjoying pissing me off.

  "Sorry, asshole, that ship has long sailed," I snap as I drop back onto the couch—this time as far away from Tristan as I can be without actually sitting on the armrest. "You said goodbye to our friendship the second I walked into the gym and assumed that just because I was a girl, that I was lost."

  He chuckles, probably remembering how mad I had gotten. "In hindsight, I don't know what I was thinking. There's no way your body frame could be a ballerina."

  Jax yelps in surprise. "Tristan, are you kidding me?!" he yells at his best friend. "This is how you want to start with her? Dude, she's going to kill you!"

  I shrug off Tristan's comment. Weight and body type are common topics at martial arts gyms, since weight classes are a very large part of fighting. I'm not nearly as sensitive about my weight and muscular frame as I used to be. As it turns out, my ass and thighs are actually a benefit to my fighting style—especially when it comes to wrestling and jiu-jitsu.