Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

32| Claimed

For the rest of the day, I obsess about the look Auden gave me. I'm being stupid, if he knew about the training, he'd have confronted me about it, but what if he does know? What if he's biding his time to expose me?

What if I'm screwed?

No longer in the mood for training, I take Cody home and return again for closing. I'm exhausted as hell, my body crying out for a much-needed break, but something tells me with the fight this close, Nico won't go easy on me.

He's late, a usual, so I sit on one of the benches and stare into the dark, determined eyes of Ali. To think, in four weeks, I'll be fighting for glory – just like he did.

I must doze off, because the sound of footsteps commands my attention. Nico walks in, and even though it makes me feel like the biggest loser going, my heart flutters. Not just in that holy hell, he's handsome way, either, but the way your heart flutters when you bump into a crush.

He quickly closes the space between us, brushing his thumb across my cheek. "You fight today?"

"Coach had me spar during training." I smile and add, "I won, by the way."

He drops his hand, his mouth curving slightly at the corner. "I didn't doubt that for a second." I smile back, about to walk over to the equipment box, when his hand catches mine, pulling me back. "You don't need gloves today. We're going on a field trip."

My eyebrows fly up. "Really? Where?"

"That," he says with a glint in his eye, "is confidential."

Ordinarily, I'd have worn him down until he finally told me, but I'm just so happy to be getting out of training that, for once, I don't argue. We walk to his car, a tiny BMW parked on a side road opposite the gym, and I'm pleased to see it's in better condition than Coach's – at least I won't get whiplash.

I slide into the passenger seat, feeling a rush of anticipation as he starts the engine. The car hums to life, and we begin to drive down the quiet street.

The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the trees that line the road. As we drive, I sneak another glance at him. He's focused on the road, but his strong jawline and full lips make it hard to look away. I feel a flutter in my stomach, relishing in the thought of a night without training.

A night with Nico.

Until now, it's been easy to pretend that nothing has changed. We've carried on training, with the only change being the occasional kiss before I hurry on home, but tonight changes everything; I'll finally get to see him outside of the gym.

I glance at him again, ignoring the rush of nerves in my stomach, and say, "So, how's Katarina doing with her training? Any new weaknesses I should know about?"

He glances over, gaze dark with disapproval. No matter how hard I try to get intel on Katarina, he refuses to spill. I get it, obviously. It's bad enough he's training her competition, but to tell me her techniques would give me an unfair advantage, one I don't want; I just enjoy badgering him.

As Nico messes with the radio, I turn to the window, wondering if I should tell him what happened with Auden, but it'll only stress him out. If our secret gets out, it won't just be me in trouble but him. Box Inc would fire him for training their competitor, and his future as a coach would be tarnished, so for now, I keep it to myself.

Nico pulls up outside Green Room Billiards in San Fernando Valley. I get out of the car, surprised when he grabs my hand and leads me to the entrance. "Okay, this is so not what I thought we'd be doing tonight, but I like it."

"You've been training hard," he says, leading me to the counter. "If you don't have a break, you risk burnout."

The place is busy, filled with six or seven pool tables, all with their own little booth. As soon as Nico pays, he grabs my hand again and weaves us through the tables.

Our table is the last one in the row, private and away from the others. I don't know much about playing pool, but I grab a cue and hold it like a pro. "Have you been here before?"

"A long time ago." He turns to face me properly, and his dark eyes lock onto mine. I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through my body as he leans against the table, his strong arms casually crossed in front of him. "You know what you're doing?"

"I always know what I'm doing. You can break."

My gaze lingers on his biceps, which bulge as he lifts a pool cue from the rack. His arms flex as he lines up his shot, and I can't help but admire the way his t-shirt stretches taut over his broad shoulders. With a steady hand, he draws the cue back, tensing in anticipation. He exhales slowly and, in one smooth motion, drives the cue forward, striking the ball with precision.

I follow the ball's path with my eyes, watching it glide across the felt and collide with a striped ball, sinking it cleanly into a pocket. "Hmff. Lucky shot."

"Nothing lucky about it, Cassandra." He moves beside me, leaning down until the heat of his breath can be felt on my skin. "Your turn."

My eyes scan the table, analyzing the layout of the balls and trying to plot my next move. I've played pool a few times with Cody and my dad, but I must look somewhat clueless because Nico takes pity.

He steps behind me so that my back is against his chest, his tanned arms reaching around me. I press into him slightly, enjoying being trapped in his arms, even if it's only for a moment. The room grows hotter, or maybe it's just me. He bends me over the table, helping me to line up my cue, but I can barely concentrate.

"All right," he says, guiding the cue, "nice and steady."

Under his guidance, I pull the cue back, taking the shot. The ball ricochets off the cushion and collides with a solid-colored ball, sending it spinning across the table. For a moment, I hold my breath, willing the ball to find its mark, and then I see it roll into a corner pocket with a satisfying thunk.

I turn until I'm trapped between his chest and the table. "Why are you so good at this?"

He flashes a grin, reaching for his cue before moving around the table. "My dad and the neighbors used to host pool nights in our kitchen. I'd watch them smoking and drinking from the living room until my dad decided I was old enough to join in."

Frowning, I say, "How old were you?"

"Thirteen, give or take. Take your shot, Cassandra."

My eyes narrow, not because he called me Cassandra, which I've grown not to hate, but because hearing these snippets of his life hurt my heart. I  chalk my cue, positioning myself to line up my shot.

This time, I miss.

"I have a question," he says, taking his shot, but he refuses to ask until I look at him. "Why don't you like being called Cassandra?"

My cheeks burn; I think back to all the times my mother has used my name with disdain. "It has negative connotations."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning my mother has claimed it as her own."

His eyes find mine in the silence that follows. "Then claim it back," he says in my ear. "Cassandra."

I swallow hard, reminding myself that we're in a public place; it's probably a good thing too.

For the next few minutes, as we move around the table, I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. It's not just the effort of the game that's making me flush – it's the way he watches me with that intense, focused gaze. But despite my nerves, I manage to sink a few more balls, earning his smile of approval. And maybe it's stupid – scratch that, it is stupid – but that smile is the best thing I've seen all damn day.

A/N

Hey guys!

A slightly shorter chapter than normal because I had to break it into two parts as it was really long. Next chapter should hopefully be tomorrow! ❤️