Page 31 of Beg Me

I counter with a quick one-two of my own, snapping my jab at his guard to make him blink and following with a right hook to his ribs. My glove connects with a satisfying thud, but Trevy rolls with the punch, absorbing the impact and sliding out to my left.

“Good pivot,” Joel calls.

Trevy fires back immediately, a crisp left hook that forces me to duck under and roll to my right. My muscles coil like springs, and I explode upward with an uppercut aimed at his solar plexus. He sidesteps it cleanly, grinning like he’s got my number.

“Footwork, footwork,” I remind myself, bouncing back to the center. My sneakers squeak against the canvas as we reset, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the overhead lights.

Trevy advances, his footwork smooth and deliberate, his head slipping side to side like a pendulum. He throws a low leg kick, testing my stance, and I check it with my shin. The slap of bone on bone reverberates up my leg, but I ignore the sting. I fire a quick teep kick to his midsection, just to keep him honest, and he deflects it with his forearm.

Now he’s grinning, his confidence building. He steps in, faking a jab, and throws a spinning backkick aimed at my ribs. I see it coming a second too late and twist to take it on my side, gritting my teeth as the impact rattles through me.

“Nice one,” I grunt, smirking through the pain.

But I don’t give him time to celebrate. I press forward, crowding his space with a flurry of punches—jab, cross, hook, uppercut—forcing him to retreat toward the ropes. He blocks most of them, but a right hook sneaks through and clips his temple. His head snaps to the side, and I hear Joel clap once.

“Don’t let him walk you down, Trevy!”

Trevy plants his feet and pivots out of danger, creating space with a stiff jab to my chest. My lungs tighten as I absorb the punch, but I stay on him, slipping inside his guard to clinch. My forearm presses against his neck as I pull him off balance, throwing a quick knee to his thigh. He grunts and retaliates with a short elbow aimed at my temple. I block it just in time and disengage, stepping back to reset.

We’re both breathing harder now, sweat starting to bead on our foreheads. The bell rings out—sharp, metallic, and unforgiving. Joel steps between us, his hand raised like a referee in a title fight.

“Round one,” he says, his eyes darting between us. “Good work. Catch your breath.”

I lean against the ropes, wiping my brow with the back of my glove. My chest heaves, but my mind is sharp. This is what I live for—the rhythm, the grind, the challenge. Trevy spits his mouthguard into his hand, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That all you got?” he taunts, wiping at a red mark on his cheek.

I laugh, taking a swig from the water bottle Joel hands me. “We’re just getting started.”

After the last normie gym goer leaves, Joel locks the door. He walks back to the center of the gym and shouts, “Down to the basement, we have club business to attend to.”

Everyone looks over at him and starts finishing up what they are doing. I head downstairs and wait for everyone. Once we are all down here Joel looks over to me, waiting.

“What’s up, kid?” He asks. I stand, everyone’s eyes meet mine.

“Hey guys.” A pointed cough sounds from the back. “Guys as a general term Lucy, I know you, Brit, Meg, and Dev aren’t guys. Trust me, we are all well aware.” I chuckle, and the rest of the men join me. I duck quickly as a water bottle flies past my head.

“Shit head,” I hear Meg mutter.

I smile at her, “Love you too, boo.” I blow her air kisses.

“anyway, I have a situation in my personal life.”

They all collectively groan. I see a handful of them shifting in their seats. No one likes talking about personal lives here. This club doesn’t exist. We don’t ever let it come into our real day-to-day world.

“Sorry guys.” I rub the back of my neck nervously. “I know this isn’t fun. Someone is stalking Olive.”

The room goes still. Everyone here knows Oli, she doesn’t know them, but they know her. I have told them all about her over the last few years. They know I’m completely whipped by her.

“It’s fucking weird. They’re getting into all her accounts and posting pictures of her, that she didn’t take. They were taken from outside the bar, through her windows.”

As I continue, Meg interrupts me. “How the fuck did they get pictures from there? There are no buildings around there at all for them to get a good view. Trust me… I’ve tried.” She laughs.

“Okay, perv.” I glare at her, tipping my head. “We don’t know, but yesterday they had the balls to try and get into her apartment. They were banging on the doors. When her boyfriend walked in the banging magically disappeared like they were a fucking ghost.” I lean against the wall so I don’t start nervously pacing.

“Have we considered the boyfriend being the problem?” Brit asks. It’s funny that only the women are chiming in here.

I shake my head. “No, he isn’t the problem. He ran in with a state trooper hot on his tail. Neither of them saw anything.” I push off the wall and sit down in front of everyone.

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