The Boxer Series

Chapter 7

So, he followed her.

Despite his blurry vision and weak knees, Harry slipped through the ropes and hopped off the side of the ring. He ignored the protests from Matt and the shouting of the crowd and focused on the petite body walking down the hall. Her brown hair swayed against her back, almost down to her butt. Harry wouldn't deny it; she is attractive.

"Cryssy!" She turned on her heels, finding Harry jogging towards her.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked. "You just got punched in the head! You should by lying down, i***t!" He rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Why does it matter?" she hissed, trying to guide him to one of the nearby benches.

"Because I need to know! Now where?" she sighed.

"I was going to call Louis to tell him what happened but I couldn't in there. You're going to need someone to drive you home," she said.

"You do it, then."

"Then how will I get home?"

"You'll stay at mine and play nurse," he said.

"You're being awfully nice," she said suspiciously. He rolled his eyes.

"And so were you, about fifteen minutes ago when you were two inches from my face." she blushed.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital. I mean, look at your nose," she said, holding his chin and examining the damage.

"I'll be fine, I've had worse."

"That explains why your nose looks like a penis."

"Excuse you?" she laughed.

"I'm only joking," Cryssy gave Harry a light smile and Harry rolled his eyes, but smirked a little anyway. "I'll take you home," she murmured after a moment of silence. "So, go get ready." Harry nodded, and headed off to the locker rooms. When he got there, Matt was waiting and knew he was about to get an earful. Only, what he said caught Harry extremely off guard.

"You thought she was going to leave like Levy did, didn't you?"

Chapter 8

"You thought she was going to leave like Levy did, didn't you?"

Harry walked straight past Matt, pretending his words were alien to his ears and memories. "Don't know what you're talkin' about, Matt," he responded cooly. Harry pulled off his shorts and walked to the showers. A bottle of his shampoo was on the shelf due to his frequent practice, so he turned the nob and. as water flowed out, so did words from his coach's mouth.

"Harry, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Why don't you admit you actually care for once, huh?" he challenged, unaffected by Harry's current nudity as he washed himself off and rinsed in under five minutes. Matt waited for an answer.

"Because I don't," the younger boy answered, slapping the taps off and drying himself. He didn't know why everyone was so up his ass about all this crap. It's never been a problem before, so why is it now?

"Yes, you do."

"Why the HELL does it matter?!" he barked, still completely in the nude as he yelled in the confined space, his low voice echoing against the tiled walls.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE OUT OF CONTROL, HARRY," Matt screamed. "Ever since your last break up, you act as if no one cares and nothing matters. People are still here for you, Harry. You need to realize this," he continued with a quieter voice. Harry licked his lips, annoyed as he walked past Matt and over to his clothes. He threw on boxers and black skinny jeans before drying his hair. Matt followed as he did this.

"And what does Cryssy have to do with all this?" he asked, tugging on a long-sleeved black sweater and slipping into his shoes.

"You care about her," he answered. Harry huffed.

"You don't know how sick I am of hearing that bullshit." Matt shook his head.

"Fine, whatever, Harry. I just think it'd be good for you to show some human emotion for once." Harry rolled his eyes and slung his duffle over his shoulder.

"Whatever." With that, he left. He walked out of the locker room and down the halls to the front entrance. It was crowded, and Harry tried to hide himself, but was unsuccessful when he heard the yelling of his arrival. He puffed out his pale cheeks and kept walking, his head already hammering from being pounded earlier, and this only made it worse. The paparazzi outside made a small path for Harry to pass out of the arena's exit . They knew from experience; he wasn't an actor and didn't care if beating the s**t outta a photographer made the front page. So they stood silently, snapping pictures as he passed, further disturbing his migraine

Cryssy waited outside, her lips a pale pink due to the cold nipping at them and her red nose. Harry rose an eyebrow. Cute. She was leaning up against the Range Rover's hood, staring at her white Converse with a strange interest. Shaking off his earlier thought, Harry unlocked his car and nodded to Cryssy when she spotted him. She smiled slightly, walked over to the diver's side, and sunk into the seat, finding it extremely far from the wheel.

"Jesus," she said as he entered the car after throwing his duffle in the backseat. "Your legs are long as hell." Harry chuckled slightly and leaned his head against the chairs head rest, sighing.

"Sorry." She smiled anyway.

"It's coolio bro," Harry gave her a strange look. "What?"

"'It's coolio bro,'" he mimicked. She laughed.

"Sorry?" Harry shook his head, leaning back again.

"Quirky," he mumbled to himself. Cryssy felt herself smiling. Hopefully, this night together wouldn't be as bad as their last dinner date.

After being told the address. Cryssy drove them to Harry's flat in only fifteen minutes. They didn't chat much . . . actually, it was completely silent the entire ride, but they both found it strangely comfortable. The pair headed into Harry's home and Cryssy was completely dumbfounded at the sight. She wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. It was big, yes, but it had a lovely, homey feeling. As they entered through the front door, Harry took his keys from Cryssy and hung them on a rack by the door and dropped his duffle next to the table with bills strewn across it. She followed Harry down the hall and past the front room with a pure white carpet, black couches, bookshelves lining the far wall, with both books and old records, a record player next to those, and a TV in front of the couches and coffee table. Harry walked to a relatively big kitchen, which was not entirely high tech, but decently modern-looking. She wondered why a bachelor like Harry would bother with such a big kitchen . . .didn't he go out like every night?

"So uh, this is my house," Harry shrugged.

"Nice," Cryssy responded cooly, although her insides were crawling with an obscure curiosity of what his bedroom looked like. She wasn't trying to be suggestive, but genuinely wanted to know. You could tell a lot about someone by the way their bedroom looks.

"Look, my head is killing me, so I'm going to go lie down," Harry told her. Cryssy nodded.

"Would you like me to make you something to eat? Because you shouldn't sleep for a while after a blow like that to the head," she informed.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he waved Cryssy off and headed down the hall from the kitchen, clutching his head between his hands. "Bring some aspirin up too, would you? First door on the left," Harry hollered from the bedroom.

"Will do," she responded, then looked over the kitchen curiously. What the hell was she going to make?

An hour later, Cryssy walked down the hall with a tray in her hands filled with food and aspirin for Harry. She kicked the door open with her foot, finding Harry shirtless and his lower half covered by sheets as he groaned. His eyes were closed with both his large hands cupping them with his head resting against the white pillows atop his king-sized bed. Across from the bed, a large TV was placed on top of a black dresser, playing some action movie on mute.

"Got you some food," Cryssy informed quietly as she approached. Harry groaned again.

"Finally what took so long?"

"Well, it's kinda hard to find everything I need to cook lasagna in a giant kitchen I've never used before." Harry rolled his eyes and took the pain relievers off the tray along with the tall glass of water next to it, downing them both quickly. Cryssy placed the tray on the bed and stood awkwardly next to it, looking around the room, curious. Next to the door she had just entered from was a wall with a couch pushed up against it, some books stacked on a table in front of it and a guitar lying on the cushions. On the wall next to it were a jumble of news clippings and awards on shelves. A bathroom and closet door were on her right, and the TV and dresser sat on the other side. On the wall opposite her was a sliding glass door, but it was too dark to see what lay beyond it.

"Thanks," Harry said after a moment of silence as Cryssy examined the bedroom.

"No problem, Curly." She smiled.

"Did you just call me Curly?"

"Problem?" she laughed.

No, just the fact that the last person to call me Curly besides Lou was Levy. Harry couldn't figure out why whatever Cryssy said seemed to affect him so much. Everything she did or said seemed to remind him of the one person who actually cared for him when he was alone. She was different. Not like his ex different but truly . . . genuine.

"No . . . no," Harry mumbled.

"You okay?" she asked suddenly, placing a hand on his pale cheek and watching his face closely. There it was again. That spark in her eyes that showed she actually cared. How could one girl care for such and ass-hole though? Harry thought it over and thought again as he nodded his head yes in answer to her question.

"It's weird," Harry said suddenly. Cryssy looked at him, curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"Just a few weeks ago, you couldn't stand me. Now, you're in my house and taking care of me . . . why?" Harry asked. Everything Harry used to do was always known by him; he knew every intention of the people around him. But now, he couldn't figure out why this chick was so damned special all of a sudden and why he was letting his guard down again for the first time in years.

"In my defense, you did tell me to come here." Harry rolled his eyes.

"That wasn't the question because you could have said no. Now answer." Cryssy resisted the urge to laugh at his demands. He literally seemed like a child before her now; under a blanket and a tray of food over him, like soup a mother brought her child if he was sick.

"Because I care about you, Harry."

"But why? It dosen't make any sense!" Cryssy rolled her eyes.

"Why is it so hard to believe I care about whether or not you're okay?"

"BECAUSE NO ONE EVER CARES," Harry boomed. "There's always something behind it! Always a dark motive behind it!"

"So, you think I'm doing this for some other benefit? Seriously Harry, like what? What could I possibly want?" she spat.

"I don't know, maybe the minor fame that comes with being seen with someone famous?"

"Fame? Are you f*****g kidding me, Harry? You just got knocked out, so I drove you home and made you dinner, and you're accusing me of being a damned gold digger?"

"It's not like I haven't seen it happen before," He snapped. Cryssy bit into her bottom lip, stopping herself from screaming at the top of her lungs. She swiveled on her heels and headed to the door. "Where are you going?"