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

by Nikki Castle

  Of course, Jax notices the change in my behavior. I can't see how hard he's analyzing me right now, but I can sense his hesitation. He's trying to decide if this is the time he needs to push me, or if he should back off.

  I can't decide which I want him to do, either.

  "That's not all, is it?" he finally asks softly. As soon as he asks, I realize I wish he hadn't opened that door.

  But even I can admit a partial truth. "No, it's not. But the rest of it I just need to get over. Nothing worth talking about."

  He nods, and for a second it appears like he won't push further, even though I can tell he wants the last word. In the end he can't stop from taking it. "Maybe you don't need to get over it," he mumbles before busying himself with the prep work in front of him.

  I stiffen at his words. I haven't been able to tell if he's figured out that my mood has to do with his best friend. Something obviously happened while he was gone, but at the same time I doubt Remy is moping in a corner somewhere. So Jax technically only has the timing and my change in mood to go on.

  But he's also the most observant fucker I know. And something about his words just now makes me think he knows more than even I do. I sneak a glance at where he's cutting up some vegetables.

  Maybe you don't need to get over it.

  Does that mean I can still salvage this thing with Remy? She made it pretty clear when she left that she had only been interested in me for sex. In that aspect she was obviously into me—you can't fake the kind of physical connection we had. But is it possible she wants more than that? Why would she say what she did if she wanted more?

  I shake the tempting thoughts from my head. I can't bring myself to really hope that Remy has feelings for me. If I do, and it turns out that she's telling the truth about only wanting me for sex, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Even now I'm only barely staying above water because I'm stuck in a place where I know I felt something between us, but I'm also not 100% certain she wasn’t just using me for my dick. I'm trying not to crash and burn but also trying to limit hope.

  I once again swallow every emotion swirling around in my heart and go back to faking my normal, stoic self.

  Another week goes by without seeing Remy. Eventually, I'm able to stop myself from checking the doorway every five minutes. My workouts are just as hard, I'm just as exhausted, and I'm even more confused than I was in the beginning.

  Part of me is beginning to wonder if those ten days even happened. Did I misread the situation so badly that I made up everything that I thought we felt while Remy was living in the house? It would explain how easily she was able to shove me under the rug and forget I exist.

  But the hole in my heart is still there, and it still aches. I still can't see a short brunette on the street without my breath catching. I still can't look at Jax's room—or sometimes even my own—without remembering Remy's presence in the house. I still can't wake up without a stab of pain that she's not there with me.

  It's Friday afternoon and I'm finishing up my last private lesson of the day. I have another hour before open mat starts where I’ll oversee the students that want to come in and train on their own. I decide to use the time the same way I've been using any free hour the past few weeks: I throw myself into a workout.

  Within minutes my gloves are laced up and I'm pounding on the heavy bag. The sound of my fists hitting the leather reverberate through the room, though it’s not loud enough to drown out my chaotic thoughts.

  The harder I hit, the more the chaos in my head dulls. There's something so primal, so honest, about fighting that I've realized in the past few weeks that it's hard to feel sad while you're doing it. The only things you can feel are determination or anger. Or sheer numbness, if you're exhausted enough.

  For the first time in weeks, my numbness melts to anger. Anger at these insane emotions that Remy stirred in me so suddenly. Anger at the confusion over our relationship—and lack thereof. Anger at the fact that I'm hung up on a woman that doesn't want me back.

  How can it possibly feel this bad? We didn’t spend that much time together. I shouldn’t be so depressed over her rejection or so obsessed with the thought of making her mine. I shouldn’t have reacted with anything but short-lived shock that she turned me down. How can wanting to explore the possibility of a relationship with someone cause this much of an ache in my body?

  I realize with a shock that I'm in the same position that every girl that's ever wanted to date me was in—wanting more but getting rejected because the other person is only interested in sex. When I would break up with a girl, I thought I was only hurting her idea of our potential. I was just stopping the fairytale before it could get started and inevitably run off the tracks. It's not like I was letting them fall in love with me and then breaking up with them.

  My eyes widen and I pull back from the punch I was about to throw.

  It's... not possible.

  I'm not that guy. That kind of thing doesn't happen to me—I’m too rational and too focused on my goals. It's impossible.

  ...isn't it?

  Did I fall in love with Remy?

  I have no idea what love feels like. My girlfriend in college was nice, and we got along great, but I knew I wasn't in love with her. I was too glad for time without her when we were busy, and not sad enough when she finally ended it. I wasn't sure I was even capable of feeling love. How could I when fighting was always #1 in my book? How could I say I love someone when I would pick my career over them any day of the week?

  Except… except that's not true.

  I know I need to be selfish if I want to be the best in the world but right now, in this moment, I feel like I would walk out of a packed arena with a title fight on the line if it would get me Remy. I would pick her every second of every day and every week.

  Because I'm completely, desperately in love with her.

  “FUCK!” I scream in frustration. I let loose a barrage of punches on the heavy bag.

  With every punch, I realize that’s exactly what happened. Somehow during her time at the house, I fell in love with her. I may have even felt that way before she moved in, if I’m being completely honest with myself. Even when she hated me, I always loved how feisty she was, how she would go toe to toe with me and never just roll over at my feet. Being in close proximity must’ve shed the veil between us and forced me to see what I never wanted to admit to myself: that Remy is my perfect match. The sex just opened the door to our chemistry.

  “Fuck,” I grit through my teeth, throwing each punch harder than the last. It's an outlet for an emotion that I don't want to feel. I don't want to love Remy. Not just because she clearly doesn’t want me back, but because love is a distraction I can’t afford in my life. Even if she wanted me, too, a relationship would affect my focus and fuck with my strict game plan for becoming a world champ. If I’m this messed up over one fallout with her, the potential for these kinds of emotions to ruin me is astronomical.

  I can’t pursue this thing with Remy. And more importantly, I need to get these thoughts and feelings out of my head. They’re already hurting my training.

  Even the hardest bag workout I've ever done can't stop the anger from coursing through my veins. It's like once I gave my body permission to feel it, I accidentally let it take over. I'm shaking—both from exhaustion and fury—when I finally unlace my gloves and throw them into my bag.

  On a whim, I grab my phone instead. I dial before I can second guess myself.

  Aiden answers on the first ring. "Tristan, what's up? Are you at open mat? I'm heading over there now."

  "Let's skip it," I tell him hastily. "I need a drink. I'll have Danny cover the gym for two hours. You in?"

  There's a pause on the other end of the line. I take a breath and let him have it, since I already know how crazy I sound right now. I've never been one to skip the gym—especially for a bar—and definitely not in the past few weeks. I've been gym-crazed and haven't been out with the guys at all.

  "Yeah, let's do
it," he finally answers. "I'll grab Max, too. Let's try out that new bar on 21st Street. Wanna meet us there in thirty minutes?"

  "Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you there."

  Twenty minutes later, I'm nursing my second whiskey at the bar and internally cursing Aiden for his location choice. It's 5:00 on a Friday and this place is not far from the Business District, which means it's packed with corporate assholes that are finishing a week of desk work and looking to lose themselves in a different life for the next three days.

  The alcohol muffles the hurt in my chest better than the workout did. I should've started drinking sooner. I realize now that this is probably the reason that drinking is a normal coping mechanism after a breakup.

  I shake my head to try to clear those thoughts from my head. It can't be a breakup if we were never together.

  With a growl I slam back the rest of my whiskey.

  Maybe Remy was right to shut us down. Maybe it's better if we were only having sex. I can't afford a distraction when I'm so close to the UFC, and she would've been a very big one. It didn’t take long at all for me to completely lose my head and my focus around her. If it’s this bad after less than two weeks, who knows how deep I would've gone with any more time with her.

  I'm glowering at the bar staff, waiting for another refill, when Aiden and Max find me. Aiden looks between me and the bartender with a questioning gaze. "What on earth did the nice man do to piss you off? He has liquor, we need to like him."

  I turn my glare toward my teammate, but he only offers a grin before taking a spot next to me on a barstool. Max sits on the far side.

  "So… what's up?" Max asks curiously. "We haven't seen you in weeks. Miss us?"

  I shoot another glower at the bartender who still hasn't acknowledged my silent signal. "I just punched you in the face yesterday. How could I miss you?"

  Aiden grins again. "Miss bonding with us over alcohol, then?"

  I sigh in defeat. "Something like that," I murmur. "What's going on with you guys? Outside of the gym, I mean."

  "It's funny you ask," Aiden chirps happily. I mentally groan my regret for starting this conversation, even as I'm subconsciously thankful for the distraction from my thoughts. "I think I've finally found a good work/school/gym balance. Gym is good, though you know that. Work is boring but easy. And school is great. I have one semester left and I'm stupidly excited for the criminal justice class I have to take for my thesis. Who knew I was actually smart with this liberal arts shit."

  "None of us," I hear Max mutter. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips for the first time in weeks.

  Aiden ignores the comment. "I'm also seeing this hot-as-fuck blonde that I met in my political science course this year. Hottest chick I've ever been with. Smart, too."

  I raise an eyebrow in question. "Smart? What, you like this girl?"

  Aiden chuckles and Max grins at the insanity of my question. I've been friends with these guys for long enough that I should know better than to ask that kind of question.

  "Nah, it's not going anywhere. She's just fun to hang out with every once in a while when the stress gets bad. She's the same way—she’s not looking for anything, thank god."

  I swallow against a suddenly dry throat. I try once again to flag down the bartender for another whiskey.

  "It's just better that way, you know? No pressure, no feelings, just great sex." Aidan lets out an exaggerated exhale and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. "God, the sex is so good. She's a total freak."

  Max nods his agreement and I find myself doing the same. Maybe it is better if it's just physical—God knows the emotional part of the past few weeks with Remy has sucked ass. There's a reason I never wanted more than sex with other girls. It's just so much easier than the chaos that comes with… everything else. It's probably a good thing that nothing came out of this thing with Remy and I.

  I feel the choking grip on my heart loosen a little at the realization.

  I look over at Max. "What about you? What's your love life look like?"

  He grins sheepishly. "I'm… kinda back with my ex. Not, like, dating, but we've been fucking lately." Aiden lets out a groan and drops his head to the bar.

  "Dude, you know she's going to start pushing for you to get back together again," Aiden mumbles into the wooden bar top.

  Max scowls at his friend's head. "I know that. But I've made it clear that's not happening."

  Aiden lifts his head so he can aim a glare at Max. "Yeah, because that worked out so well last time."

  I start chuckling as I listen to their banter. I should've leaned on these two a lot sooner. For just an hour, I can forget the pain that's been threatening to tear me apart for the past few weeks.

  The bartender finally slides another whiskey in front of me. As he turns to Max and Aiden to take their orders, I look beyond them to take in the rest of the bar.

  With one look, my blood freezes and my heart drops. All the pain I've been trying to drive away with exhaustion and distractions comes right back to the forefront of my brain and multiplies tenfold.

  Remy is sitting at the lounge section of the bar. With Jason.

  Even though I can only see her from the side, I'd have to be blind not to recognize her body and her mannerisms. I can't quite see her face, but I can see that whatever she's saying has Jason grinning like a madman. He's completely riveted by her.

  And why wouldn't he be? She's fucking gorgeous. She's wearing her work clothes and yet again looking like a sexy secretary with black heels, a tight black pencil skirt, and a white blouse. Her dark brown hair is lightly curled and hanging down to the curve of her ass, looking just as grabbable as her ass in that skirt. The outfit reminds me of the night I fucked her on the kitchen counter after I ripped off her work clothes and revealed the sexy red lingerie she wore underneath.

  I desperately try to shake the memory before it consumes me.

  At the sight of them together, the ache in my chest becomes an exploding bomb, piercing every corner of my soul with a pain so blinding that it feels like I can't breathe. I realize in this moment that I’ve been holding onto a false hope that she didn't mean what she said when she left. Like an idiot, I've subconsciously been trying to convince myself that she’d been lying, or trying to protect herself from me, and that's why she hasn't been around. It’s the whole reason I haven’t tried to contact her—I wasn’t ready to hear her confirm what my subconscious has been telling me for weeks.

  But at the sight of Jason next to her, I realize she really did only want me for sex. That's all I was good for to her. That’s the only way she could handle hating me and living in the same house as me. While I was falling in love with her, she was just using me to get off. And now that we're no longer under the same roof, she's free to move on to someone else. Maybe to Jason, who she has more in common with and who she's never hated.

  And I'm watching it happen.

  I fight the urge to vomit as I turn back to the bar. I slam half my drink in one gulp, ignoring the wide-eyed look of shock on Aiden's face. I don't miss that he turns to see what made me angry, or the look of understanding that appears on his face when he puts two and two together.

  All of the sadness inside me from the past few weeks suddenly morphs into furious pain. And I need an outlet before I explode and dump all of it on Remy.

  Without thinking about what I'm doing, acting solely because of the anger coursing through my veins and the heartbreak tearing my chest in half, I look around the bar for a distraction. If Remy is moving on, then so am I. I’ll be exactly the kind of manwhore she thinks I am.

  I plaster my trademark smirk on my face and turn toward the blonde sitting only a few seats down from me.

  21

  Remy

  It feels like I've run an ultra-marathon in the three weeks since I've seen Tristan.

  No matter what I say to myself or which one of my training partners calls me, I just can't bring myself to go to the gym. I can't handle seeing Tristan right now. Every time
I even think about him it feels like another little piece of my heart breaks off. So, I continue telling my friends that I'm busy with a work project and settling into my new apartment. Only Hailey knows the truth, though I suspect Jax knows that something is up.

  Instead of my usual workouts, I've taken to running miles and miles after work. I run as far as I can and as long as I can until I collapse from exhaustion. It's only then that I'm able to shut off my brain and manage a few hours of sleep without thoughts of Tristan's words to Jax echoing in my head.

  I can barely eat anything. Even with the immense calorie burn of my runs, I just don't have an appetite. I feel constantly nauseous when I think of Tristan with other women. It's a struggle to force food down my throat. Hailey has tried cooking me different meals in an effort to find something that I can keep down, but it's no use. I've lost ten pounds in the past three weeks.

  The weight loss is visible in my face—I can tell I look haggard from the way Hailey frowns with concern every time she comes over. My clothes hang on me, where before they were tight. My idiot salad-eating coworker badgers me every day about what I'm doing to lose the weight. I can't bring myself to tell her it's just a natural side effect of having your heart shattered into a million pieces.

  I also throw myself into work. I'm at the office by 7:30 every morning and rarely leave before 6:00. I really do have work projects lined up but in a normal week I'd have them done in only a few days. Now, I'm constantly re-reading, re-writing, second guessing all my work. I can barely focus on my computer screen half the time and end up zoning out for an hour before I realize I haven't typed a single word. I can't concentrate in any of my meetings, which only serves to aggravate the engineers when I meet with them. In the past three weeks they've all snapped at me more than once, scolding me for making them repeat themselves. I don't even have the energy to fight them on it. I just nod and make a note to figure it out myself.