its name. There were mirrors along one wall, but there were no machines like you would see at a health club. Bags hung from the ceiling, old huge tires were stacked in one corner, and long ropes coiled on the floor. Racks of free weights lined the wall opposite of the mirrors. The place smelled of sour sweat.
Noah led me through the front room where everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and stare at us. In the back was a larger room that resembled the warehouse where Noah had fought for his ten thousand dollars. Except this room had large fluorescent lights that hung down over a raised boxing platform. To one side sat a long bench like you’d see in a schoolyard. Noah led me over to it and gave me a hard, long kiss that left me blushing from the tips of my ears to the soles of my feet.
“Be right back,” he said.
When he returned, he and Bo were dressed only in loose shorts. They climbed into the ring and a couple of other guys came to help them suit up with protective gear, red on Noah and blue on Bo. They looked a little like the kid’s game of Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. My trigger finger twitched involuntarily. If I stood up on the rafters and looked down, the bright colors contrasting against the dull gray walls would’ve made an amazing photograph. Dr. Rossum’s jeers about my trick photography killed the thought off quickly. I shook my head to rid myself of his taunts. I didn’t want to dwell on it. I resolved to just live in the moment.
A crowd of thickly muscled men filtered in from the front room and soon it seemed like everyone was standing or sitting around the platform.
This was different from the warehouse fight. Bo and Noah circled each other, their arms outstretched as if measuring the distance between them. When one moved in, the other feinted. They danced like that for a minute before Bo sprang toward Noah with a punch across the jaw. Noah’s head snapped back, but he responded with a quick kick to the side that pushed Bo away.
For two friends, the blows they exchanged seemed fierce. A flurry of punches, kicks, and parries followed, and a few of the blows elicited shouts of delight from the audience. Noah was on his back with Bo atop him, Noah’s legs snug around Bo’s torso.
With a quick movement, Noah rolled Bo onto his back, his arms around Bo’s neck and his legs around Bo’s arms. Bo tapped his hand to the side and Noah let go immediately. He rose easily and leaned down to help Bo to his feet. They hugged each other. When someone came to remove Noah’s helmet, I could see him grinning.
He said he fought for money, but it was clear by the expressions on both faces that they enjoyed this exertion of testosterone quite a bit.
Noah was breathing hard when he came to the edge of the ring. Leaning on the ropes, he motioned me over. I resisted the urge to look behind me, but I did see out of my periphery about a dozen heads swivel toward me. I have to admit the feeling that welled up inside me wasn’t pretty or nice. It was possessive with a tinge of pride. Yes, that guy up there all sweaty and gorgeous who just fought the crap out of the other guy? That guy was gesturing toward me.
Someone, I’m not sure who it was, gave me a boost at the same time Noah reached down to grab my hands. I stood on the outside with the ropes of the boxing ring between us. They were soft and springy.
“What’d you think?” Noah asked me, holding my arms so I didn’t fall backward. “Different from the other night?”
“I’m a little afraid of what I think,” I admitted.
“Oh,” he said, one eyebrow rising.
“It’s very primitive,” I said, “and evokes a primitive response.”
He laughed low, and I felt my stomach tighten in response. “I don’t think this is the place for the discussion I’d like to have. Let me shower and change, and we can get out of here.”
“Shower,” I said plaintively. I wanted to finger paint the sweat all over those defined muscles from his chest down to his low-riding gym shorts. His hands tightened on my arms, and I wondered if he was going to haul me over the ropes. He just looked at me,