he first thing Kino asks when I get back is how my fight went, followed by a million questions about Alyssa. Is she okay? Don't you think she looked pretty? What do you think she meant when she said luckily you made it? The more he talks, the more I start to wish I'd stuck to my principles. But damn, was that one hell of a kiss.

Sunday morning, my mom is up early to make pancakes and eggs, despite my insistence that I'll do it. She walks in a mess, her hair piled high on her head in a knot like she's gone days without brushing it. I clench my jaw and take a seat at the table. If Dad hadn't left and taken our money, she wouldn't have to work this hard.

"So," she says after dishing up our pancakes, "what are my boys doing today?" She takes a seat at the breakfast table, peering at the both of us from over her coffee cup. Kino and I share a look across the table.

"Gonna mess around with some code on my computer," Kino says.

Mom smiles in a way that I've missed. "My boy is going to be some IT whizz like Bill Gates, I just know it."

Kino grins, and Mom looks at me now, glances at my knuckles, and sighs. The fresh cuts on my hands let her know I've been fighting outside of the ring. Again.

She reaches over, gently taking my hand in hers before squeezing it. She's disappointed in me, I can tell by the look that she's giving me right now, but she'll never say as much.

"When is enough going to be enough?" she asks.

My chest tightens. I pull my hand away. "When I become the next Muhammad Ali and we're so rich that we're eating our food off plates made of gold."

Kino smirks, but Mom doesn't smile. "I worry about you," she says. "Money means nothing if you're not around to enjoy it, Max. You don't want to waste your whole life striving for something, only to realize you've missed out on living in the process."

I get up from the table, walk around it, and plant a kiss on her forehead. Then I look around our kitchen, which is cramped and starting to mold. "My debut fight is less than a few months away," I remind her. "If I win it, things will start looking up for us. I promise. Just trust me."

She doesn't speak, doesn't turn to look at me, so I wink at Kino and grab my gym bag before heading out. The gym is busy for a Sunday afternoon. I put away my stuff head toward one of the punching bags before stopping.

One of the newbies–Sean–heads into the ring and tries to goad some of the others to fight him. I think about going over, but Auden steps up with a cocky grin, despite the fact this guy has another forty pounds on him. He rips off his shirt like he's the Incredible Hulk and turns to face Sean.

Hayden slips beside me and shakes his head, about to head over when I put a hand out to stop him. "You baby him too much," I say. "He needs to learn for himself."

"He's going to get his ass kicked," Hayden says.

"Yeah," I say, "and he'll deserve it."

Hayden folds his arms like a petulant kid. I turn to look at him, noting the way the corner of his mouth twitches.

"You're too hard on him," he mutters.

"Somebody's got to be," I say. "If he doesn't learn now, he never will. Let him go."

The others catch wind of the fight and gather around to watch. Sean grins like he's gotten his way and stands in the opposite corner of the ring, looking like he's about to knock this kid into next week. Still, Auden's resolve doesn't falter. He's got confidence–or arrogance–that reminds me of myself when I was his age. If he doesn't rein it in, he's going to have one hell of a tough time growing up.

The bell rings, and Sean moves into center ring, grinning through his mouthguard. Auden pauses. He's never fought a Southpaw before, so he's confused by the stance. Sean uses that confusion to take three consecutive hits to Auden's head.

Auden stumbles but quickly straightens up. He charges at Sean, trying to hit him, but Sean dips to the side, straightens up, and lands a quick one-two to Auden's head.

"All right, that's enough," Hayden mutters, about to step forward, but I stop him again.

"You step in that ring and you're hurting him more than helping him. He needs to feel the consequences of challenging the wrong people."

"He's fifteen years old," Hayden says.

"If he squares up to the wrong person on the streets, they're not going to give a crap how old he is," I warn.

Hayden falls back, and I turn back to the ring. After a few more seconds of taking Sean's shot, I call time. Auden stumbles out of the ring and heads straight into the bathroom to clean himself up. Sean grins and tries to challenge someone else, but no one will step up. Eventually, he moves to one of the punching bags and starts his routine.

Hayden frowns. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

I grin and slip on my gloves. "Not the first time I've heard that."

He rolls his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" He nods at my face now, which is still suffering from Pretty boy's cheaps shots. "What happened last night, anyway? Looks like he put up a good fight."

I've been trying not to think about Alyssa, but now her face slips back into my memory, here to stay. "Nah, that dick broke the rules and sucker punched me."

Hayden scowls. As low as we think of their type, we never expected they'd sink that low. "Alyssa nurse you back to health?" he asks.

I start punching the bag, refusing to look at him. "Watch it."

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm just asking."

"I know what you're asking," I say. "Nothing happened."

Hayden smirks, clearly satisfied with getting under my skin, and goes to check on Auden. I focus on punching, trying to get the image of Alyssa out my head, but it's impossible. All I can think about is the way she'd tasted, the way her skin felt so soft in my palm. I think about her so hard that I mess up my rhythm and have to start again. What is this girl doing to me?

When the gym closes for the others, I find myself watching the clock, then the door, waiting for her to show. The second she walks in, my head turns to watch her. She's wearing tight black yoga pants and a tight pink tank top that shows off every curve. I take a slight breath and turn back to my punching bag, trying not to get distracted.

"Hey," she says, moving to the bag next to me. "How's your head doing?" She reaches up, lightly touching the cut on my face, and I tense.

"Better," I say. "Thanks."

She turns to her punching bag and slips on her gloves. "Can we spar again? I'd like to learn some new moves."

I raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

She shrugs. "You never know when you might need to put someone into a headlock."

I smile at the thought of her putting anyone in a headlock and finally relent. "Alright." She slips on a helmet follows me into the ring, where we turn to face each other. I study her a second, watching the way her eyes light up as they regard me back. I resist the urge to pull her closer and instead get into a defensive stance. She does the same, and after a second of hesitation, it's show time.

❤️