Ballerina and the Boxer

Saturday comes along very fast. Usually most people love when the weekend hits. The week is slow and when Friday rolls along, everyone cheers and gets drunk and does stupid stuff that they'll regret in the morning; but they don't care because it's the weekend.

I, on the other hand, am dreading today. Yes, I'll get to see Harry. But I'm also going against Samantha's wishes of seeing her son and I had to go to another gym that freaked me out. I know I should bring a friend or just not go, but I want to see him. I need to see him.

Today my mom is actually home which is a huge surprise considering I haven't seen her much this week at all. She stays at 'work' late and doesn't get home until the wee hours. Eventually I just stopped asking.

"You look pretty. Where are you going tonight?"

"I always dress like this mom," I sigh, pulling up my leather, dark brown boots I worked so hard for. They hit just below my knee until my tan slacks were visible. My sweater was a mustard yellow but covered with a navy blue peacoat. I decide that I don't care what people at the match think about my wardrobe. If they want to stare, so be it.

"Well, you look nice. Are you going on a date?"

I roll my eyes at my mother who should know me well enough by now. Technically I am meeting up with a boy but she knows I don't want to date because of dance and I've never really been on a real date anyway.

"No mom, just meeting up with a friend. I'm not sure what time I'll be home though so don't wait up for me."

She nods from the kitchen, sipping on some tea as she looks at something through the kitchen window. It is a beautiful sight, looking down at the city.

Before I leave I grab my purse and decide on a black fedora. I wore a similar one last time so why not keep the tradition going?

With the directions in my hand, I call a taxi and begin the drive. It's only about twenty minutes away but it's in Brooklyn. Somewhere I've only been once. And it isn't that I think Brooklyn is bad; I just hate going to new places alone.

When the driver pulls up I hand him my money and slide out of the back seat. I follow Harry's directions to a side door and knock. When I give the doorman my name he opens up automatically and another man leads me to a door. The door has the word opponent written in sharpee across the door which makes me smile. At least Patrick Henry gym has a little bit more design.

I knock on the door loudly considering it would be hard for anyone to hear with all of the screaming and music, and a muffled, "come in," wavers through the door.

My breath is caught up in my throat when I see Harry getting his hands wrapped up by another man. He is shirtless and only wears a pair of skin tight, black boxer briefs. I look down to my shiny boots, "hey, sorry I'm here a little early."

"I didn't expect anything less," a smirk appears in his tone and then he's in front of me. When I look to his face after skimming his body, I see he's now wearing a white t-shirt and black shorts that barely touch his knees. "Are you excited?"

"Um, I don't know if that's the right word," I grimace.

Harry frowns and quickly tilts my chin so I'm looking directly into his eyes.

"Would you rather sit back here? I don't want you to watch if it's going to bother you."

I shake my head with a lighthearted smile, "no, I'll be okay. Do you think I can stand somewhere where beer won't get all over my clothes?"

I look down to my wardrobe and hold out my arms, "my boots are new."

"Yeah, of course. You can stand with Flynn."

"Like hell she'll stand with me!" the older man, probably in his mid-thirties looks at Harry like he has three heads, "that zone is for concentration. Do you know how easily Buckeye will destroy you if he sees a girl that you're quite fond of next to me? He'll use it against you and you know it."

I bite my lip to hold back a smile, "oh, please, Buckeye isn't going to get into my head. Especially over Clara."

"What is that supposed to mean?" my statement was more for my own thoughts but it came out and both of them heard it loud and clear.

"Nothing, just, it's hard to get into my head. That's all."

I nod, trying not to let it affect me. It isn't a big deal anyway, I don't want Harry to lose.

"I'll be okay in the crowd. I'll just stand to the side."

Harry looks at me hesitantly and and nods slowly, "okay, just don't talk to anyone. And don't let any sleeze ball let you buy you a drink. And stay away from the women, they're nasty and mean and--"

"Harry," I stop him and rest my hand against his cheek," I'll be fine. I did it last time and this is no different."

"It's not at my gym, Clara. This is new territory."

I made sure his words don't affect me and walk towards the door with a smile. I'll be okay, right?

"Wait," he stops me just before I open the door, "I don't get a good luck kiss?"

He smirks as I glare at him. I step forward towards him anyway and he leans forward with his eyes closed. I take my chance to put my hand over his mouth and kiss the back of my mind before releasing it. "There, you're all lucked up."

Harry frowns and I laugh as I hurry to the crowd. It's hot and it's sticky and I wonder why the hell I decided this was a good idea.

Notes