C2 Two

-The POV of Ethan-

After the last hour of training, I climbed onto my bike and zoomed in to the combat warehouse. This is where I was able to clear my head.

It was a busy day with girls endlessly tossing themselves at me and kissing my butt. I was so used to the fact that I was literally unstoppable.

My hands were painful to punch and let out all my tension.

I stepped in to rest when the sight I saw made me pause.

Hailey struck Kennedy right in the jaw, then in the groin. I winced and looked at each other in wonder and frustration.

Will she fight?

I didn't know what to do of it. I realized that she was a bit different from everyone else. She had that dark, bad vibe coming out of her.

I was so impressed by it.

She stabbed to the back of the gym, and I saw all the guys looking at her. They were terrified of her, and I was, frankly, too. But just a little bit.

I made sure she wasn't going to see me, and then I went over to get a drink of water. She stripped off her sweater with just a sports bra beneath. I couldn't help looking down at her toned figure.

What the fuck?

I shook my head and dismissed my feelings.

-The POV of Hailey-

I stripped off my jacket and pulled up my dark hair on my ponytail. The band turned for the second time, but then abruptly snapped. I was groaning in pain.

Curse my scary heavy fur.

I switched to my bag to get another hair band, but then jumped slightly to see Ethan leaning against the wall.

"Are you stalking me?" I asked.

He smiled and moved his weight on his other knee. "Whatever floats your boat, babe." Did he just name me 'babe?' That son of a bitch.

"Then what are you doing here?"

He stood up straight and walked over to the bench where I stood. "I could ask the same for you."

"I asked first."

"Fine," he said with a sigh, "I practice here.

I lifted my eyebrows and crossed my arms over my shoulders, suddenly conscious that I was wearing only a sports bra and shorts.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I just started training here." I responded.

He stared at me, then he grinned. "Need some help training?"

I scoffed and turned around, tying my hair with my new hair band. "No thanks. I'm done taking orders from amateurs."

Before leaning back against the wall, he frowned at me. I looked at him, and he waved his hand. "Go on."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my punching bag. Taking my stance, I got ready to start swinging hits when I was distracted by an irritating voice.

To be precise, his irritating voice.

"You need to have more weight on your back leg." he said. I turned around and smiled at him. He had the nerve to wink at him.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Your weight," he said, "it needs to be more on your back leg. You're depending too much on your front foot."

He took the same approach that I was in. "See? If you stand like you are now, you'll topple over. Lean back the weight..."

"Thanks, but I don't need a coach." I said. But even though I was trying to sound irritated, I realized he was right. He smiled at me with a grin, and I rolled my eyes inwardly. I felt a little foolish to let him stand there and watch me as I slammed my fists in the bag.

I had the face of Ethan appear on the bag in front of me visually, and I punched it with all my strength.

That dumb little boy... (punching)

Who the heck does he think he is? (punching)

Asking me what to do with this... (punching)

"Whoa, don't go breaking your knuckles and the bag sweetheart," his voice disrupted my thoughts.

I stopped, and I stared at him. "Could you possibly not be here and not criticize me?" I asked.

"What would be the fun in that cutie?"

Did he just name me that?

I staggered over to him, shoved my fist against his strong chest. "Listen up, punk. I don't care how you spend your time. Whether it's banging up a few girls or partying all night, I don't care, but I will not, I repeat, will not let you smirk around and act all smug and cocky towards me. Your first impression for me wasn't good, and frankly, first impressions are extremely important. So great job. I now think of you as a pathetic son of a bitch."

His face was pale and emotionless. His mouth was partially open and he was as stiff as a pin. I changed my heel, took my purse, and stormed out of the gym. I should have sworn that the steam was blowing out of my face.

Guess I'm never going to train here again.