The past few days had not gone quickly.

They had travelled past like an old woman driving a car, tedious! Slow as fuck!

The only actual break I had was going to the carnival, juvenile yes, but it took my mind off everything for a few hours. Or rather Blondie took my mind off things. She's got such a positive light and kind heart that just sucks you in, you can't help but be drawn to her. As much as I want to tell her to fuck off and stay as reclused as I am, I can't, she makes me... happier. Fuck that's so cliche, when did I turn into one of those guys?

She's smart and beautiful but she's concealed by this shyness and reluctance of trust. I've seen the little movements, how she flinches when anyone tries to touch her and her prominent lack of confidence. Her hair falls in front of her face when she's scared and she fiddles with the sapphire ring that sits around her right ring finger when she's nervous.

I want to know why, who or what made her so doubtful of herself? But she's still a mystery. One I shouldn't be bothered with. I don't need to be involved with something like this, I'm going to Alabama soon anyway which guarantees the possibility of not even seeing her again once senior year is over. I sometimes think about who the fuck I will stay in contact with, undeniably B since he's hopefully heading to the same place and he's... my best friend. But the other guys... I don't know.

When you see a do not push sign, you immediately want to push it, right? Well, Atlas Grove is a massive, red do not push sigh. How far can you push before her secrets come spilling out?

My phone rings bringing me out of my thoughts, I look down at the screen immediately throwing my phone under one of the throw pillows on Brady's couch.

I know it's him, every time I block one number he comes back on another or sends a letter. I just burn them taking enjoyment in the flames that carry the ashes into the atmosphere.

"Is it him again?" Brady looks back from the video game the boys are engrossed in on his giant flatscreen, the guys and I are all around his for the day. Brady played it off like we'd be doing homework and projects to please his mom who's at work but he already had the beers out of the fridge and on the counter waiting for us when we got here.

"Yeah, it's been constant recently," I mumble. Brady's the only one besides my mom who knows about everything that happened in New York.

"What are you going to do?" He leans back on the sofa and hands me a beer. I gratefully accept and down half the bottle in a few swigs.

"Ignore it." I sigh focusing on Rutherford's finger moving across the controller as he and Ethan start NBA 2K20.

"Maybe you could get a restraining order against him?" B suggests, piquing my interest, I'd had one for the past couple of years but when I turned eighteen it expired since I was an adult and would need to apply for a new one. I hadn't heard from him around the time it did expire, no contact at all, so I presumed he wasn't going to carry on harassing me and didn't bother renewing it, "My mom can help?" Brady places his controller on the couch next to me. His mom is a top-class lawyer which is why he's able to live in such a lavish place, she had her own firm in New York and was one of the most sought after for the government and important people. She wasn't best pleased when she had to move it all down to Atlanta when Bradys' dads' company expanded down here.

His house consists of nine bedrooms, five bathrooms, a gym room, a home cinema, a pool and a tennis court out back and several dated studies. He had the same back in New York but he's not one to brag about his wealth and I respect that, he's generous and kind with what he has, he always pays me gas money when he catches rides with me.

"Is it just your dad or is it the others too." He continues.

"Occasionally the others, the odd text, email, call, letter. They're usually just empty threats and manipulative messages but my dads' are just persistent now and it's annoying me. I'm trying to move on- focus on football and forget about all that shit."

Brady nods, "I get you, bro, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, the restraining order sounds like a good idea but it's a lot of hassle. I haven't told my mom either, I didn't want her to panic and pack up moving us halfway across the country again." I sigh, the last thing I want to do is upset my mom again and ruin things for Gemma, she's happy here, we all are or at least as happy as I can be.

"You should let her know Blaze, what if he turns up, he's dangerous." I don't know why his words piss me off so much but something nasty snaps inside of me. Something evil and vicious that filters everything around me red.

"You don't think I know that! Brady, I know that! I know I fucked up, I have a fucking criminal record to show it! I regret what happened every single day! I have to live with my past and the hurt I put my mom and sister through, the hurt I put you through!" I snap, shouting at him, Brady recoils slightly into the sofa, Ethan and Rutherford pause the game turning to look at the commotion unfolding behind them.

I can feel my anger fulling through my blood, I close my eyes taking a breath, trying to recall what my old therapist told me.

Ground myself, find the calm.

It takes a while and a lot of bullshit thoughts but my anger draws to a simmer deep down, guilt floods in taking its place.

"I'm sorry bro, I didn't mean to take it out on you." I sigh slipping back into the seat beside him. He sends me a reassuring smile, one I've seen too many times that I am so undeserving of.

"Hey, don't worry. I know how hard it is for you Blaze but I'm here for you okay? Trust me. You don't have to face this alone again." Brady smiles weakly at me, obviously concerned. I think he thinks I'm going to slip back into my old ways.

Everyone does, I know they do, I can see in their eyes the lack of trust. They're all walking on eggshells waiting for me to slip up. My mom especially. I don't blame her. I disappointed her and I hurt her.

Even I get worried I'm going to slip back into that fucking downward spiral.

That's why I shouldn't be making more friends. Especially fragile Blonde ones.

I left B's promptly after that, I just needed to be alone. It's dangerous to be alone with my thoughts but right now that's what I need.

I don't enjoy the torture of my mind but sometimes I just like to isolate myself with it. Listen to the destructive thoughts and shut everything else out. Sometimes it's what I deserve.

I go home quickly to change then jog downtown to the more worn-down, disadvantaged part of the city. The parts of town that were never developed like the newer shopping malls, they were just left to rot.

I jog past the small cafes, wooden tables with classic red and white checked tablecloths line the street, next to the gothic-looking tattoo shop I get all my work done in. I wave at the woman behind the counter filled with piercing jewellery as I pass, she blushes and flits her long lashes, her dark black hair falling in front of her face tattoos. I jog down to the end of the block until I see the weathered warehouse, the red letters falling off the side of the building, 'Colders Gym'.

I haven't been here in a while considering its football season, I've been busy with practice and school work but when I push open the spring back doors, immediately hit with that musty body odour smell I feel slightly more at ease- pretty gross I know but something about it is so familiar.

My eyes sweep around the room watching and listening to the force of fists hitting the tatted leather of the hanging bags. A few of the muscly menaces look up and give me a slight nod before returning to their workouts.

"Haven't seen you in a while kid." Jack hobbles up behind me, slapping me on the shoulder. Poor guy's nearing eighty-five now and still single handily runs this place, he bought it when he was twenty-one and it was just a storage place for old car parts, since then he's made it into an empire. His sons and nephews help out a lot but he'll never give it up, not yet anyway.

He walks around in a vest top and joggers, not the most appealing look for a guy sporting a beer belly but with his numerous white keloid scars from his prime he looks just as intimidating.

"Nah I've been busy, I just need to blow off a bit though."

"Bags all yours." He smiles gesturing to the hanging bag in the corner of the dusty warehouse.

The gym's old and could definitely do with a bit of TLC and big refurbishments but its got a rooted feeling to it, a community attached to it. Colders isn't just a normal gym you can turn up and fight, you have to pay your dues here and prove yourself. When I first moved here I was in the ring for nearly two hours 'proving' myself, I guess I do owe New York something, it did me well in this instance.

I drop my stuff at the edge of the room near my bag and breath deep through my nose before I unleash my fury into my fists.

It's always been the way I've worked. I use violence as a way of channelling my rage it wasn't until I moved here I learnt there were ways to release it safely, not fucking illegally.

I've seen many therapists about my anger but I always seem to scare them off, I can't blame them, If I was paid to listen to my life story I'd run for the fucking hills. Move to Antarctica or the north pole- become one of Santas shitty little elves.

My knuckles thrash against the leather, the bag swings with undeniable force.

I've spent so long trying to move on from what happened and the constant calls, letters and threats are pulling me back down. I don't want to disappoint my mom anymore, I've hurt her too much but when my dads constantly trying to get under my skin, I get paranoid, I'm constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for his followers to jump out and attack me, drag my kicking and screaming back to the city. I'm worried I'll do something stupid, get into more trouble.

Sweat trickles down my forehead, my veins pump with the frustration coursing through my body.

I can't get into trouble. My career is on the line. One more altercation and I could be kicked off the team, I won't get into Alabama and that's it.

I can feel my knuckles bruising, releasing blood from the cracks but I don't care, I push on through the pain and through my detrimental thoughts, my mind flys back to Atlas.

What is her deal? She's so shy but she's hiding something. I want to know more about her, she entices me with her gorgeous blonde hair and deep glistening sapphire eyes. Her pale skin is so delicate and contrasting next to my black inked body, she's so kind and smart and better yet despite the ass I've been to her, she's never once told me to fuck off or been nasty to me.

Her gentle nature makes her so easy to be around and talk too, it's a weird feeling, especially when we were on the Ferris wheel. I enjoyed being with her just talking, it's the most I've really said to anyone other than Brady in a long long time.

She's not my usual type, brunette, confident and tall but there's no denying Blondies beauty, her silky blonde locks that hide her gorgeous blue eyes when she's nervous, her proportionate curves in her cheer uniform, her kind nurturing soul and her excentric mystery.

However, it doesn't matter how beautiful she may be, I don't date. I fuck with no feelings and move on. It's much better for football season and it's too much hassle. I've been living in disappointment my whole life, I don't need a relationship full of one.

I finish up on the bag before I realise I'd been here a good few hours and the gym if fairly deserted, not full and boisterous like when I first walked in. I lean my head against the swinging bag and breath deeply. I still feel confused as fuck but now at least, I'm slightly less rageful.

"You good kid? I haven't seen you hit it that hard in a while." Jack asks leaning against the office door watching me grab my stuff and walk towards the exit.

"Yeah, just a lot on my mind," I reply.

"Alright, well you know you can come anytime Blaze." He sighs keeping the same posture, "And the offers still open, you can always come to fight for me." He grins slightly. He's always trying to get me to fight for him in tournaments.

"Sorry Jack, I don't do that shit anymore," I say leaning against the exit. I only come to train. I can't be seen fighting nor get hurt during fighting both of which would be incredibly bad for football.

"I understand, see you around." He waves me off with a shaky hand and I dash out of the gym, feeling the cool fresh air on my sweaty face. I jump off the steps my feet hitting the pavement and something else. A small shriek is heard when I realise I've accidentally smashed into someone and sent their groceries flying all over the ground.

I look down at the girl sprawled out on the street and I have to hold back my laughter. You just couldn't make this shit up. I bend down to the level of the poor girl I've just sent flying.

"Jesus christ Blondie, I'm sorry." I chuckle.

I look down at little Atlas Grove who's turned a bright shade of red and is stuttering. I bend down to help her pick up the groceries lying on the street.

"Gosh I'm- I'm so sorry Blaze, did I hurt you?" She looks at a can of beans and then back up at my chest, presuming she'd caused some impact trauma although I don't miss the way her eyes widen over my sweat ridden T-shirt, it clings to my abs nicely.

"If it was anyone else I'd be pissed but this one was on me, I came charging out of there although you could probably put walking into people as a hobby on your rèsumè now. You've done it enough times. " I smile helping her off the ground and handing her back her bag of groceries.

"Yeah- uh sorry again." She smiles brightly her blush lips contrasting to her reddening cheeks. Her eyes flit past me and to the gym doors.

"You box?" She asks thoughtfully, I nod. It's quiet for a few moments, her face scrunched like she's pondering over something, "Can you uh... if you're not busy... uh..."

"Spit it out Butterfly."

"Well... could you maybe teach me?" She looks down at her trainers and I try not to laugh. Why on earth would she want to learn how to box?

"Funny Atlas." I send her a look but her brows furrow.

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you want to learn how to box?" I deadpan, she can't even talk to me without turning red let alone start a goddam fight with someone.

"To uh... keep fit." I can tell she's lying, her little nose scrunches when she lies.

"You've got cheer and full use of the school gym?" I challenge. She stops walking abruptly and turns to face me.

"Please Blaze!" She pleads, her eyes look into mine and I can see the desperation in the bottomless jewels, I've never seen someone so desperate to learn how to fight before. This runs much deeper than trying to keep fit another thing to add to the mystery that is Miss Grove. "Is it because I'm a girl. You don't think I can do it?" She pouts taking me by surprise slightly, I didn't expect her to call me out like that.

"No, it's not that Butterfly, it's just it's you... you're quiet and so innocent, I couldn't imagen you starting a fight."

"Well believe it." She giggles driving her fist into my arm, another blush coating her face.

I smile sincerely at her, it's fucking adorable.

"So... will you...?"

I bite on my bottom lip... should I? I mean... it would mean I get to spend more time with her and I get to see her in tight sportswear... oh yeah seeing that ass in tight leggings.

"I'll think about it," I mumble, her smile grows and she does a little jump.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!" She strains.

"Hey, I said I'd think about it." She gives me an exaggerated nod and we walk down the rest of the street in a weirdly comfortable silence before we go our separate ways.

"Hey Blaze..." She calls over her shoulder, I turn back to look at her soft hair caressing her flushed face, "Thank you."

I give her a simple nod before she turns and I watch her travel out of sight. I walk home feeling lighter... maybe not because I fought it out, maybe because she talked it out.

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