Fight for You

Chapter Two

Troy

It had only been forty four hours since I last saw Avery (but who's counting?), yet it felt like forever. While I was helping clients at the gym, I kept looking over my shoulder every time the door opened, hoping it was Avery, even though I knew he wasn't coming. I was distracted and tied in knots over a man I barely knew.

But I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to teach him and protect him. I'd never felt this way, and it was a little scary. I definitely didn't want to frighten Avery, especially since he said he didn't have much experience with men. I had to play it cool.

Which is the exact opposite of what I did when I saw Avery entering Paleo Place, where I was waiting in a booth. I stood up too quickly and whacked my head on the low-lying light above the table. I cursed and rubbed my scalp, but lifted my hand into a wave when I noticed him looking in my direction. He smiled and headed towards me, and my heart raced when he came into full view.

Avery was dressed in pressed khakis and a light blue dress shirt, which was neatly tucked in. I felt a bit guilty; I was wearing a pair of loose shorts and a plain black t-shirt, since I'd come straight from the gym between clients. At least I applied some extra deodorant before walking over.

“Hey,” I greeted, feeling my lips stretch into a dumb, lopsided smile as he approached. “You look great. Sorry I'm underdressed.”

Avery cocked his head in confusion before glancing down at his outfit. “These are just my school clothes.” Holy shit; my little nerd dresses like this all the time. Adorable.

“Have a seat,” I offered with a wave of my hand, and Avery slid into the booth. As I did the same, I clocked my head on the damn light again, but luckily, he didn't notice. I handed him a menu as I asked, “How was class?”

“It was great. We discussed one of my favorite topics; combinatorics.”

I blinked, not knowing what the hell he was talking about. “I'm glad you enjoyed it.” Avery beamed before looking over his menu some more. Feeling dumb but curious, I scratched the back of my head and requested, “Remind me what that is again?”

“It's a branch of mathematics that focuses on counting, arranging, and selecting elements within a finite or discrete system.”

Yeah, that answers nothing. All I knew for sure was that it sounded, “Impressive.”

“Eh, I'm just a number nerd,” Avery insisted with a humble wave of his hand. “My love of math is what led me to studying cryptography.”

Cryptography. I searched my brain, but came up with nothing. It sounded like it had something to do with dead people or even mummies, but then why would he need math? Searching for clues while trying not to sound like a total moron, I asked, “What are you wanting to do after graduation?”

“Ideally, I'd like to work for the CIA.” Holy shit, maybe it does have something to do with dead bodies . “I'd love to be a Cyber Security Officer, but I know I'll have to work my way up over time. I’ll need years of experience before I could apply to the Agency.”

Cyber security? Ohh, I get it now. “You write encryptions.” Avery nodded. It made much more sense than mummies.

“I encrypt sensitive material into code, so that third parties can't read it.”

“So what you're telling me is that you're basically a genius.” I was teasing, but the way Avery’s cheeks pinked told me I wasn't too far from the truth. “I'm jealous.”

“Don't be,” he sighed. I narrowed my eyes, hoping he would explain, but a waitress appeared at the end of our table before he could do so. I nodded for Avery to order first, and he chose pan fried chicken and vegetables. That just so happened to be one of my favorite meals, so I smiled and ordered the same.

Once we were alone again, I leaned forward, preparing to ask him to explain what he meant, but Avery began talking before I could get the words out. I wasn't sure if he was reading my cues, or if he just needed to talk to someone, but I gave him my full attention.

“I've always been smart,” he began quietly, as if it were something to be ashamed of. “School always came easy for me. I never had to study, yet always received good grades.”

“That's great,” I smiled, but Avery didn't seem as enthused.

“Sometimes. But in other ways, it was stressful. Peers got angry with me when I would cancel out a grading curve on a test, or get praised by a teacher. It put a target on my back that has unfortunately followed me throughout life.”

“The guys bothering you,” I surmised, and he nodded.

“They struggled in grade school and high school, and took out their frustrations and jealousy on me. I thought things would calm down as I got older, but I guess not. They've actually gotten worse. I believe these guys are seeing that their future is not going to be easy, and I'm an easy target for them. Hurting me makes them feel better.”

Avery wasn't only book smart; he was emotionally intelligent as well. He understood the actions of others, even though they were inexcusable.

“So those assholes from school; they're the only ones bothering you?”

“Yeah, it's just them now.” I didn't miss his use of now, and Avery didn't either. His eyes widened before skittering away. I longed to know his story, but he didn't seem ready to tell it yet, so I changed the subject by bringing up my own.

“I got picked on in school too.”

His gaze snapped back to me. “You?”

I nodded with a chuckle. “I didn't always look like this. When I was younger, I was actually a pretty gangly kid. But that's not why I got bullied; I suffered with dyslexia, and had trouble with reading.” Avery got picked on for being ahead of his peers, while I got picked on for being behind. It seemed like some people just hated anyone who was different.

“I always hated reading out loud in class. I tried my best, but I was slow and had a bit of a stutter. The other kids would groan or laugh at me, and I made the mistake of letting them see it bothered me. Since they knew it got under my skin, they went at me even harder.

“One day, a kid in my grade was acting tough in front of his buddies. He was making them laugh by mimicking my stutter right in my face. He was getting spit all over me and I told him to stop. He didn't, so I pushed him. He pushed me back. And that was the day my life changed when I realized I had a mean right hook.

“My mom was worried about the fighting, but my dad was excited. He saw my potential and immediately got me into training. I got better, and I got bigger. When my growth spurt hit, I became a force to be reckoned with. I won most of my matches. But win or lose, after every fight, I trained even harder.”

“Did your mom ever warm up to it?” Avery asked curiously, and I smiled at his care.

“Not initially, but she made a deal with me; she would deal with the fighting as long as I put equal work into my studies. So, I worked with a tutor and therapist to battle my dyslexia. My reading skills improved and school became easier for me. When she saw how much better I was doing, she didn't mind the fighting so much…until after I graduated; then she became terrified again.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, as I got older and bigger, so did my opponents. The hits came harder, and my injuries got worse. Over the years, I got my nose broken several times, a few cracked ribs, and a couple of concussions.”

“That all sounds horrible. I can see why she was scared for you.”

“I had big dreams,” I replied with a shrug, “I wanted to become the super heavyweight champ, and was willing to do whatever it took to achieve them. My dad and I both tried to explain that to her, but she grew more concerned over time. A few years ago, I made it to the final qualifier for the championship fight.”

“That's amazing!” Avery gushed, warming my chest.

“It started out that way,” I answered, and his grin turned to a grimace as he listened to the rest of my story. “My opponent was tough. He fought me harder than anyone ever had. By the fifth round, I was struggling to even stand upright. It felt as if he had a brick in his glove as he delivered hit after hit to my face. I was too tired to guard myself. I was just trying to make it to the bell. My eyes were swollen and I could barely see. My ears were bleeding and ringing, but I could still hear my mom screaming at my trainer to throw in the towel and call the fight, while my dad yelled even louder to keep it going.

“But it didn't matter in the end; my opponent clocked me in the temple for a total knockout punch. I woke up three days later in the hospital with a massive concussion, a brain bleed, and split up parents. Mom couldn't forgive my dad for pushing me too hard, and he was furious that she'd tried to intervene.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks, but I'm surprised they held on as long as they did. They are very different people. Since then, they've each found someone who loves them as they are, and they're very happy.”

“I'm glad to hear it. But still, in the moment, it had to be so hard to not only worry about physically healing, but to have that emotional trauma when you woke up, too.”

I gave Avery a grateful smile and added, “It was. And in the end, I had to put my boxing career to rest and retire before I won a championship. The brutal hit caused some short term memory loss, though it has gotten better over time. My stutter appeared again for a while, but I've worked hard to get it back in check, too. But even though I can't step into the ring myself any more, I'm grateful I can still train others. The gym was happy to have me; even though I'm a loser, I'm still their biggest success story.”

“You're not a loser,” Avery insisted. “Troy, you had to take care of your health. You couldn't put yourself in danger anymore. Besides that, you made it to the final qualifier! That's something to be proud of. Not many people can say that. And even though things look a little different now, you can still be a part of something you love while helping others. I know you are making a difference in peoples’ lives, because you're making a difference in mine.”

“Thank you.” I reached across the table, and Avery flinched when I placed my hand on his.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, I immediately pulled away, but he captured my fingers with his. “No, please; I want to. I just…” his words trailed off, and I took it as a sign that he wasn't ready to talk about whatever it was. He could have all the time he needed; I was content to hold his hand and wait.

Avery flinched again when the waitress appeared by our table once more. I loosened my grip, but he didn't pull away. Once our plates were settled in front of us, he tightened his hold on me and picked up his fork with his other hand to dig into his food. That left me to awkwardly feed myself with my non-dominant hand. I didn't care; I wasn't going to let go of him for anything.

“I never met my dad,” he told me around a bite of chicken. “He left before I was born. My mom married my step dad when I was five, but I don't see either of them any more.”

I offered, “I'm sorry,” but Avery gave a swift shake of his head.

“Don't be.”

Oh, that doesn't sound good. There was so much brewing in Avery’s beautiful head, and I hoped he felt comfortable telling me everything in time. But for the time being, he turned his attention to his food and offered a quiet, “This is delicious.”

We didn't speak much as we ate. I gave Avery space to think, while holding onto him to remind him I was there.

Once our plates were cleared, I wanted to lighten the mood and help Avery relax. “We should probably let our food settle before we hit the gym.” I nodded to a billiards table and asked, “Do you like to shoot pool?”

“I do.” I was happy to see him smiling again, even though it was more of a smirk. “And I'm pretty good.”

“Oh yeah?” He gave a confident nod. “Well it just so happens I'm pretty good too.”

“Interesting.”

“I say we make it very interesting with a little wager. What do you say?”

Avery’s smirk turned wicked. “Let's do it. If I win, my next training session is free.”

“Deal. And if I win, you agree to a second date.” Avery’s cheeks pinked and he swallowed hard, but he nodded his agreement. “Shall we go see who wins?”

“Absolutely.”

I chuckled before regrettably letting go of his hand and sliding out of the booth. He tried to argue when I placed cash on the table to pay for our food, but I waved him off.

Once he stood up, I placed my palm on his lower back and guided him to the pool table. His cheeks were fiery by the time we arrived, but he didn't pull away.

I grabbed two cue sticks from the holder and rubbed them with chalk while Avery racked the balls. Once he lifted the triangle, I handed him a stick and asked, “Want to break?”

“Sure.” Avery placed the cue ball in the center of the table and leaned down to line up his shot. I took the opportunity to admire his ass, which looked especially cute in his khakis.

My attention was pulled away from the glorious sight by the sound of resin balls clacking together. I looked up in time to see the red seven ball zip into the left corner pocket, while the blue two ball fell into the right.

“Shit,” I mumbled, making him chuckle. He then sank the green six ball into the left center, followed by the orange five. I realized I was watching with my mouth gaping open when he laughed again. “How are you so good at this?”

“I guess it's my mathematical brain,” he shrugged. “I see what angle I need to shoot from.”

“Shit,” I repeated, realizing I probably wouldn't even get a turn.

As if he read my mind, Avery jutted his chin at me and said, “You take a shot. I want to watch you.”

The pressure was on. He was so good, and I may have exaggerated my abilities. There was probably no way I could impress him; I just didn't want to embarrass myself. I held my breath and tapped the cue ball. I completely missed the blue striped ten ball I was aiming for, but all was not lost; the cue ball bounced off the side wall and happened to knock into the purple stripes twelve ball, dropping it into the pocket.

“Nice shot!” Avery cheered. It was a lucky shot, but I would certainly take the compliment.

“Thanks.” I bounced my eyebrows and asked, “Are you nervous now?”

“Not even a little bit.”

He knew he was good, and I loved the unexpected wave of confidence. His self-assured side was as attractive to me as his shy side. And I particularly enjoyed his backside.

I lined up another shot, but I didn't luck out this time. I barely missed the thirteen ball, and the cue ball came to rest in the center of the table. Avery shocked me by sending me a wink before taking his own shot. He sank the rest of the solid balls into the pockets before effortlessly dropping in the eight ball, ending our game.

“Wow,” I said finally, unable to come up with anything more intelligent. Avery chuckled as he replaced our cue sticks, and a naughty idea came to my mind. “You won fair and square; you'll get your second date.”

He tried to hide his smile as he turned to face me. “Pretty sure that was your bet. I believe I won a free session.”

I tapped on my chin before shaking my head. “That's not what I remember. I can clearly recall you requesting a second date, and I'm here to make that happen.”

He no longer appeared to be fighting a grin. “Troy, I…I don't think I can.”

I couldn’t hide my surprise and disappointment when I answered, “Oh.” But I didn't want him to feel guilty, so I slapped on a fake smile and added, “It's okay; I understand.” It was a lie; I thought we were having a great time together.

“I don't think you do,” he replied quietly, “And that's my fault for giving mixed signals. Trust me, I like you. I really do, but believe me when I say it wouldn't work out between us.”

Every cell in my body knew he was wrong, but I would never pressure him. All I could hope to do was change his mind; to make him see we were a great match. I'd never force him, but that didn't mean I had to stop trying. Not when I knew I could make him happy.

“Shall we go to the gym, then?”

Avery blinked. “You still want to?”

“Of course I do. Besides, I owe you a free session.” I winked at him and he gave me a sweet smile.

“Thanks, Big Mac.” My nickname on his lips gave me a thrill, and even more determination to fight for him and win him over.