Page 23 of Love Punch

“Give me the bullshit first,” I said.

Arthur laughed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “I just really want to box, Bradley. Three years of watching you hasinspired me.”

“I could do with less of the sarcasm. What’s the real reason?”

“Your brain has built a negative association with boxing after your last match. I want to get it working, post-concussion, and I also want you to build a positive experience with it again. It should help you get out of your slump.”

“And that’ll work?”

Arthur grimaced. “Well, according to the internet it should. We’ll see.” He got up from the bed and gave his hips a little wiggle. I kept my eyesfirmlyabove the waist—for the most part. “Get dressed, big guy. We’re goingboxin’.”

“Aye aye,” I muttered as he walked back through the bathroom and into his bedroom. I swung my legs off the bed and rooted through the wardrobe to find my exercise gear, pulling out a pair of black briefs and tracksuit bottoms, and a grey tank top inscribed with one of my sponsors. I dried off my legs and dropped the towel to the floor. It was only as I turned around to get changed that I realised Arthur hadn’t closed the bathroom door properly on his side.

I was a pervert, I knew that. But I couldn’t help but look. He was facing away from me, but stood so that I could see him from head to toe. Slowly, like he was intent on torturing me, Arthur dropped his pyjama bottoms to the floor. I could feel my eyes practically bugging out of their sockets as I took in his pale, round arse and perfect legs. He bent down to pick up his boxers from the floor.

And then he turned around, and I got to see that beautiful body again, all slim limbs and smooth skin peppered by short hair all the way down to his…woah. So it was true what they said about short, skinny guys. Arthur was packing more than his frame implied—and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Then Arthur cleared his throat. I looked up in time to see him swing the door shut.Shit. Despite us crossing a few lines over the weekend, I was still Arthur’s employer. And not telling him was not cool.

I dressed quickly and in shame, doing my best to ignore that my dick was at half-mast. And if I’d seen him naked…then he’d seen me too. I opened my bedroom door and knocked on his.

“Can I help you, Peeping Tom?” he asked.

“…sorry,” I said, scrubbing the back of my neck. “I shouldn’t have looked.”

Arthur gave me his sternest stare. “No, you shouldn’t have,” he said. And then he smiled. “But I guess if you saw something you like then it can’t have been that bad.”

I could only follow him, dumbfounded at his casual response. I did my best not to ogle him in his burgundy tracksuit bottoms that hugged in all the right places.

We walked out of the main house and to the gym complex out back. My generation of the family had a real reputation for being the best at whatever sport we put our minds to, and my father had played a huge part in that. Despite their rough upbringing, his brothers had been fantastic sportsmen. When he’d made enough money to support the family, my father had encouraged me and his nephews into whatever sports we wanted to.

We passed the indoor pool and squash courts, as well as the driving simulator he had installed for my cousin Theo—when it had become obvious he’d keep stealing cars from the garage to joyride otherwise.

We walked into the crowning glory of the sports complex: the full-service gym with central boxing ring. It had been great that my dad had seen fit to have it installed as soon as I showed an interest in boxing, but the whole place had felt more… sterile than anything else. As soon as I was earning enough from fights, I’d bought Imperial Gym because I loved how spit-and-sawdust it was. I preferred being in an atmosphere that brought boxing back to its roots, and that welcomed the local community.

“Have you heard from Jason this week?” I asked Arthur. “I’ve not thought about Imperial since we came home, and that’s not like me. I should go check in on my fighters.”

“He’s holding down the fort and says that Diego is going to replace you at the peak of the pyramid within three fights,” Arthur responded with a grin.

“You told him no one was going to be as good as me, right?”

“I told him to put a tenner on Diego to be champion within two years,” he countered.

“…good call, actually. How’d you make that deduction?”

“I haven’t spent this long around you without learning how to spot a good boxer. And that’s one scrappy little Spaniard.”

“Fine,” I relented. “Text Jason and tell him to up Diego’s training schedule. I’ll sponsor whatever hours Diego has to drop from work.”

“Why not text him yourself? And you’re trusting my judgement?” Arthur asked. He didn’t hesitate to grab the pads and boxing gloves from the supply cupboard.

Truth was, I wasn’t ready to text Jason yet. I felt like I’d failed him. Years of training together with no losses, all gone in one split second. “You’re my assistant, aren’t you?”

“Not as long as you talk to me like that,” Arthur grumbled, grabbing his phone nonetheless.

“I trust your judgement because of exactly what you just said. You’ve been observing for years. I might have taken my eye off the boil a bit in terms of how other people are doing in my gym because of my career. I was focused on me. And yet you somehow managed to keep me in line and keep an eye on everything else.”

Arthur blushed. “Well, when you put it like that…” He deflected, climbing between the ropes and standing in the ring. He picked up the gloves where he’d dropped them on the canvas and fiddled with them for a bit before looking up and catching my eye.

---