Kai's POV
My head's splitting when I opened my eyes the next day.
I looked around, and found the clock. It's just six o'clock in the morning. Good thing it's the weekend, and I don't work during weekends.
"Argh! Why did I even get drunk last night?"
I sat on the bed, cupping my head—pounding in my skull. Oh, damn! I don't remember anything from last night after the alcohol took effect.
This is my problem. I don't have any recollection of what happens when I get drunk.
After taking a bath, I grabbed my gym bag and went downstairs. We have a gym in the house, so I don't have to go out to work out. However, I paused at the entrance when I realized someone came earlier than me.
I was reluctant as I saw someone in the boxing ring. I don't usually use that equipment, and I don't mind sharing the gym with someone, but, it's not just someone.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A continuous thud of punches against the leather. It echoed in the room, sharp, rhythmic—like the sound of my heartbeat.
Zane was in the ring, half-naked, fists wrapped in white boxing bandage, soaked with sweat as his muscles flex in every punch he makes.
I couldn't help but watch him. He punches with brutal precision—so strong.
I inhaled sharply when he stopped throwing punches, as if he felt my stares. I immediately entered, and put my gym bag on the side. It has my water tumbler, phone, towel, iPad, and earbuds. More convenient that carrying each item in my arms.
"You sober?"
I looked at Zane. He was unwrapping the bandage around his hand while sitting on the side of the ring. I watched him silently. He brushed his sweat-damped hair with his fingers after he put the bandage on the floor of the ring.
"Yeah…" I didn't want to sound rude when he's asking nicely.
I grabbed my phone, and connected my earbuds.
"I didn't know you're talkative when drunk."
I violently turned to him—bewildered. "W-What are you talking about? Did I…say something?"
His lips curved into a mischievous smirk. "A lot."
I bit my bottom lip, and swallowed hard. "Forget everything I said."
"It's a shame…" He was teasing me. "You were so honest last night."
"I said forget about it, Zane!"
There's something… I can feel it. Burning. Intense. It was between us. Undeniable. Indescribable.
He stared at me as if studying me. The silence wasn't empty—it was saying a lot of things. Things I couldn't understand.
"Let's spar."
My forehead creased. "Why would I spar with you?"
He smirked, and my heart was drumbeat again. "If you win, I'll forget what you said and did last night."
I balled my fists. "How do I suppose to win against you? You're a mixed martial artist."
His chuckle was slow—burning tension in my chest once again. "I feel like you know everything about me. Including my blood type."
For some reason, my ears and neck burned in embarrassment. I fucking stalked him when I was a high school boy crushing big on him.
"Just forget what happened last night!" I demanded angrily. "I don't stand a chance against you, even if you go easy on me."
"Figured." He licked his bottom lip. "That's why I'm giving you a favor. If you manage to pin me down once, I'll forget everything."
I fought the intensity of his stares. "And if you win, what will you do?"
He bit his bottom lip as if hiding a smile. "Hm. I'll think about it."
"Do you really hate me?" I couldn't help but ask. "Because if you do, you won't even talk to me. Tell me the truth, Zane. Are you pretending that you hate me, or this is your way to crash me?"
He took a step close, and I was horrified by his sudden invasion. I felt like I was suddenly terrorized—I couldn't move. Especially when he kept my chin high with his forefinger. "The latter. I want to crash you, Kai. I want to crash you so badly, so be cautious. Because I won't back down. I don't care if you are my fiancee's little brother."
His words triggered my anger, and I found myself standing in front of him while we're inside the ring.
My mind was in turmoil, but I don't intend to let him win. Just pin him down one time would be enough—as we agreed on. I know it would be impossible, but I still tried my best.
"Is that your best punch?" Zane's tone was challenging me even more.
Gritting my teeth, I threw a punch at him, and kicked his leg. But it seems like my attacks were nothing to him.
One second, I was fighting. And then the next thing I know, I was pinned down on the floor.
I was panting underneath him as his forearm pressed against my chest—not to hurt me, but to hold me down.
"Game over." His breath fanning my face—short and hot.
We're both catching our breaths, but he doesn't look tired at all.
His eyes suddenly dropped to my lips. There was a flicker in his eyes—too swift, that I barely noticed.
"Is this how you do it?" He asked—eyes locked on mine, throat waving. "Do you like it underneath?"
"Zane!" I panicked when he moved his face closed—our lips an inch apart.
He chuckled, and it was like music to my ears. "I'm not gonna kiss you, Montclair. I told you, you won't get to taste my lips."
I didn't only realize my defeat—I felt it, I saw it.
"I'm not thinking about you kissing me!" I argued—almost only to convince myself.
He released my pinned arms, and pushed himself up. He stood tall beside me with an intense gaze. "Your punch was strong, but not enough to hurt me."
I sat up. My heart beating so fast and loud, blood pounding. The cold air felt too hot, and the spacious gym felt too tight.
How come I'm always weak against him, when I'm cold to other people?