Scarred and Sacred

The Quiet Girl

She doesn't belong here.

That's the first thing I think when I see her standing at the front desk, clutching a notebook like it's the only thing keeping her upright.

Her dress is too soft for this place. Her eyes are too wide. The gym eats people alive, and she looks like she's never even stepped inside one.

I should've ignored her. Hell, I meant to. But the second her gaze met mine, it was like a challenge.

Curiosity flickered across her face—like she wanted to know what kind of guy would cover his skin in ink and break bones for a living.

So I gave her something to look at. A smirk, a line, the kind of thing that usually makes girls blush and roll their eyes.

"Didn't know angels hung out in gyms."

And just like that, she did blush. Pink across her cheeks, lips parting like she didn't know how to answer. She tried to act like she wasn't affected, but I caught it. I always do.

Lopez called me back before I could push further. Probably a good thing.

Because the truth is, I don't have time for distractions. Not with the fight season coming up. Not with sponsors breathing down my neck. Not with my head already messed up from a thousand other things I can't fix.

But as I stepped back into the ring, I kept glancing toward the desk.

She moved carefully, like she was afraid she might break something just by touching it. Like she was made of glass in a world of fists and blood.

And the more I watched, the more one thought burned in my head.

What the hell is a girl like that doing here?

I swung at the pads Lopez held up, every punch landing harder than the last. Sweat dripped down my jaw, the familiar burn in my arms rising, but my mind wasn't where it should've been.

It was back at the desk, with the girl who looked like sunlight in a place built from shadows.

And I hated it.

Because the last thing I need is someone like her.

The kind of girl you ruin just by letting her get too close.