I watch as Atlas walks out of the changing room, self consciously wrapping her arms around her body as the rest of the burley guys stare at her. Her eyes drop to the floor nervously as the gazes follow her. She's got a pair of Nike sports leggings on and zip up Nike sweatshirt over her torso but it seems even the slightest hint of a women in here makes the men perverts. Dicks.

I walk over and meet her, glaring at the men who've got their eyes hanging out of their sockets and drool running from the corners of their mouths. They quickly snap their necks back around to what they're doing scared I'll throw them against the shitty wall. Fuck, why did I bring her here?

"Sorry love we don't get many girls in here you see," Jack says walking over slowly to us, looking from me to Atlas. I think he's the only man in here that hasn't looked at her ass before her face.

"I don't give a fuck, I'll break their jaws if they don't mind their own business." I bark at him, the guys in the gym sweat even more, eyes widening as they turn away from us. Jack chuckles slightly, patting me on the shoulder- at this point, the poor guy just finds my rage humorous.

"Alright Beckett, I don't want to see her in the ring though." He raises an eyebrow at me, he's been okay with me bringing Atlas, if anything he was happy about having more females enjoy the sport but he was cautious about her getting swept up and getting hurt here.

I know it's ironic since I'm teaching her to fight and usually you... fight... but the guys in here are nasty, half of them are ex-cons and show no remorse in anything, especially knocking a seventeen-year-old girl off her feet.

I still feel uneasy about bringing her here and teaching her, she says she wants to box to keep fit but I don't believe her for a second, she dances and does cheer, she can keep fit doing them but another part of me would feel even worse if I didn't help her especially after what happened last weekend.

Even thinking about it makes me want to hit something.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot Jack?" I huff, he smiles at Atlas sympathetically and shakes his head before tottering back to his office.

I lead her over to a few tatted mats- that if you laid on too long you'd probably get lice- to warm up, just running through a few simple stretches and things to get her blood pumping. Her cheeks are hot and rosy by the end and I realise she hasn't taken her jacket off despite the perspiration on her forehead.

"You want to take that jacket off? You're going to get really hot." I say pushing myself off the ground.

"Oh... no it's okay." She murmurs scrambling to her feet to join me, "I kind of have another little favour to ask..." She bites on the corner of her lip too innocent to know what that does to me, "Do you think we could actually start with some weights...?"

"Weights?" I smirk looking at her petite body, I almost laugh at the suggestion she wants to do weights. I think she senses my dismissal in her favour because she hits me lightly on the arm, her face darkening even more.

"Yes, weights. Just because I'm small doesn't mean I can't balance my fricking weight Blaze." She crosses her arms with a small smile on her face. With the small slither of sass travelling through in her tone, I'm taken aback slightly but wave my hand in the direction of the weight area. Too turned on to say anything else... and these shorts do not leave much room for any kind of mishap.

She walks over timidly, one of the older guys in the ring has stopped for a break and is hanging his stocky body over the ropes, his eyes are glued to her ass.

"Have you got a fucking problem?" I snap making Atlas jump slightly, the stocky guy rears back, narrowing his eyes at me but as I take a step closer he quickly pushes himself up and wanders away, "That's what I fucking thought." I mumble.

Atlas' blushing cheeks move quickly over to the set of weights on the far wall, trying to draw as least attention to herself as possible which is weird considering she's a phenomenal dancer and a flyer. I don't dance but isn't the whole idea to have people watch you and enjoy it?

Well, that sounds... stop thinking about it. Jesus.

She starts doing a few exercises and I watch her carefully as I do my own to make sure she doesn't accidentally hurt herself- they're some pretty big weights shes using.

I see her eyes glide up to my arms that are curling up and down, she nibbles on her lip before she notices I'm watching her. Her eyes widen and she directs her gaze to the floor with a little cough. I grin because unknowingly to her I'm totally checking out her ass like the jerk I am.

"I uh... I need to start rebuilding the strength in my muscles I've lost over the years and get rid of the fat it's been replaced with." I stare at her with a pointed look. She hasn't got a single ounce of fat on her and it wouldn't matter if she did, "Dancers have to have as much strength as skill. There's no point doing a pirouette if you can't sustain it." She says moving to a different exercise, one that focuses on her lower core.

"Not too much on the top half of my body, it's more my core and legs. My momma used to say I've got the dancer's body- it's in the genes, strength, agility, height and high arches." She mumbles looking rather pained.

"Does she still dance?' I ask remembering she went to Julliard.

"Uh... no," Atlas says bluntly, picking away at her nail varnish.

"How come-"

"How did you learn to box?" She quickly changes the subject, her face scrunching slightly like I hit a nerve.

"Here and there." I grunt, in reality, I've always had anger issues... genetic I guess but growing up in an atmosphere as I did with my dad as my 'role model' I used my fists to talk over words. It was when I really got involved with my dad that I learnt how to properly fight... and cause some serious damage.

The air around us grows slightly heavier, neither of us wanting to skim any deeper than the surface of our sports. We finish doing our weights in silence, Atlas keeps her eyes on the ground with a small line of perspiration on her forehead. Sometimes she winces or looks pained but it's not the weights that are hurting her it's something else, she looks sore.

"Alright, so let's start with some basics... a few blocks and simple punches alright?" She nods eagerly at me, pushing a bit of hair off her face with the back of her hand.

I show her a few simple moves, she watches intently, her sapphire eyes moving across me as I demonstrate a series of jabs. They dart intently as my hands move with much less fury as usual.

"Okay, you ready to try?" She nods at me as I grab a set of sweaty pads, sliding them onto my hands, "Whenever you're ready." I watch as she moves out into a better stance and she takes a deep breath before slamming her hand into the pad. It was firm-ish but wouldn't do anyone any harm except herself.

She repeats the jabs a few times.

"Bend your knees more..." She adjusts her stance and builds more power behind the jabs but not enough, "Move your hips more," I instruct, she's very... still, she needs to move more put more weight behind the force. "Stop, look."

I move my hands down onto her waist, she flinches slightly but when I look into her eyes the feelings of fright are fading into warmth and comfort... I stare long enough to see her pupils dilate, dark and deep.

"May I?" She nods, I move my fingers around her waist carefully moving her so she's in a better position, I try and ignore the heat flaming through my fucking fingertips. I can see her flushed face and I know she feels that fire too. Maybe it's the heat in the fucking room but Atlas Grove is drop dead fucking gorgeous even with sweat all over her.

I can imagen what she'd be like on top after- Stop.

"Now punch forward alright?" She nods silently and immediately smiles slightly at her better position feeling the ease coming naturally to her.

"There you go." I slip the pads back on and she carries on punching them, slightly harder now but they're still weak like she's holding back. Her brows furrow slightly as more sweat beads on her face, her eyes are trained on the pads.

"Stop Atlas." I sigh, she looks up at me shocked and pained, a flush growing brighter on her cheeks, "Look, you asked me to teach you how to box and I agreed to show you how to protect yourself because after last weekend.." I bite on my lip a grunt settling at the back of my throat. The image of him pushing her up against the wall angers me, her terrified face is imprinted in my mind... I'd already made up my mind that I'd teach her but that just added to the fuel to protect her... I don't know why, maybe I just enjoy spending time with her and the desperation in her tone when she asked me was alarming, to say the least.

"I just feel like you're not giving it everything, you're holding back. Imagen someones in front of you... someone who's hurt you or made you angry. Just imagen their face is the pad." I say resting my hand on her tiny shoulder, I'm worried it might drag her down.

"Is that what you do?" She murmurs

"Sometimes." Yeah, I imagen my dads face smothered against the fucking punching bag.

She nods at me, unsure of herself at first then lines up to hit the pad again, she starts slowly but builds speed until it's only her blonde ponytail I can see properly, swinging about behind her head. Her jaw's clenched tightly and her eyes are cold and hard, locked in on delivering pain. It's an all too familiar look, someones hurt her- badly. Sweat trickles down her face and unleashed tears gather in the corner of her eyes.

"Blondie," I say slowly, concerned. She ignores me and carries on hitting.

"Hey. Atlas!" I say a little louder but she's in this blood-curdling trance, she can only feel the anger coursing through her. I quickly pull the pads away and catch her fist with my hand. She immediately draws back but I pull her closer to me, she looks up eyes wide.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, did I hit you?" She clasps a hand over her mouth. I let out a chuckle.

"No you'd hardly do any damage anyway, I'm built like a wall." I clench my arms but she doesn't find it amusing, " Are you okay?" I look deeper into her water-filled eyes, "Why did you really want to box." The tension in her arm lessens and I drop them, still keeping her fist in my palm, I can feel her erratic heartbeat in her wrist, she looks panicked. She's scared to tell me.

"Hey, Beckett." Before she can open her mouth a gruff voice sounds from across the room, we both turn around to see one of the cocky boxers Jaden, who's the same age as me but runs with bad people in this town, always provoking fights. We've never got on. At all.

No reason, he's just a prick.

"Who's this fine piece of ass then?" He snarls walking closer to us, a few of his friends following behind. Atlas wraps her arms around herself and looks at the ground, I subconsciously move her behind me.

"Watch your fucking mouth Jaden." I spit, close to his face. His eyes are dilated, his chest heaves in and out.

"Or what? I didn't think you did girlfriends... especially not of the... quiet kind." He looks past me and smiles at Atlas, "Do you want to come train with us sweet? I wouldn't waste my time with Beckett scum... should have stayed in New York with daddy." He raises his eyebrows obvious to the flames surging through me, before he can say another word I lunge at him, swinging my fist into his jaw... feeling somewhat satisfied at the crunch. He lands on the floor like a sack of potatoes but quickly pushes himself to his feet throwing a mix of shity jabs at me. I dodge most of them but one lands on my lip. I can taste the metallic liquid seeping into my mouth and I can hear the shouting of guys around us, whilst Jaydens down I take a glance around the deepening crowd.

Atlas? Where's Atlas?

I catch sight of her paling face, her arms are still wrapped securely around her but she's shaking slightly. Guilt ripples through me, this is why she's too pure. Violence scares her and that's what runs in my veins. A fist lands on my cheek sending me back-

"I don't care what they say, Blaze. They don't give you what I want. You take them down."

My dad paces around the shabby room, complete with a large desk and a few cabinets, empty mainly beside the odd choice of weapons he stashes in there. We're in the back of his friend's bar, which's a complete dive too. He lets my dad run his business from here, they sort of work together. My dad does the illegal shit and Jones does the sort of more legal shit.

"But-"

"No buts. What have I fucking told you? What have I fucking trained you for? You do the job, you get what I need or take the consolation prize." He grabs the back of my neck, "Don't disappoint me." He whispers before heading towards the back door. "Be back before the race- there's a lot on you tonight." He slams the door leaving me in the office, angry, hurt and confused.

Mom hated the fact I was involved in dads work, she'd say I was turning into him.

But when you're young who doesn't want to be like their father?

I can feel my body being tugged away, a few of the older guys and Jack and dragging me away from Jadens body, scrunched slightly on the ground. I can see the looks of shock, terror and disbelief in the men's eyes.

I don't fight around here, I box to release anger- I used to and seemingly people have heard all the rumours from New York, courteous of Jaden who must have some sort of information from the inside- but no one has ever seen me get that bad around here.

"Alright. The show's over go back to what you were fucking doing!" Jack shouts at the still forming crowd. They all grumble and move back to their areas.

Jack drags me to the office and sits me down in a chair, handing me an ice bag to place on my busted lip- it still hasn't fully healed from the last fucking fight. I don't realise Atlas has followed us in until I see her stood sort of rigidly against the closed door. The look in her eyes is hard to decipher, she looks scared again and I don't blame her. I feel fucking awful she had to watch that.

"I thought you left all that shit in New York- save it for the ring otherwise." Jack gives me a disapproving look before wandering out of the office mumbling something about the first aid kit. The silence is excruciating. I want to tell Blondie I'm sorry but I can't find the words.

"Are you okay?" She asks in a small voice. I nod then pat the chair next to me, she hesitantly sits down but at least she does. "I'm sorry." She mumbles. I look at her with shock, what the fuck is she sorry about? She reminds me of my mom, constantly apologising to me when I got into trouble about the fact she'd been a bad parent.

"What for? It isn't your fault he's an ass." I scoff, she dosn't say anything, just stares down at the ground deep in thought.

"Can-Can I ask you something..." She finally says, still not look up from the ground. I nod at her unsure of what she could possibly ask after that.

"What happened in New York? Why did Jack say you'd left all that behind?" She looks up slightly enough to notice my rigid stance. I've never properly spoken to anyone about growing up in New York, even my mom doesn't know everything. I only talk to Brady and about certain things. I let out a sigh, should I tell her? What if she bolts?

"You remember back at the party when I said I'd been working hard on not fighting." I sigh, I do owe her some kind of explanation. She nods, "Well that's half the reason I come here... to get rid of my anger so I don't fight. Back in New York, that's all I did. I did a lot of bad things... fighting being one of them... racing another." I close my eyes it's embarrassing to talk about the person I was, the nasty person who turned his family's life upside down.

I feel something cover my slightly less bloody hand, Atlas' pink nails rest on top of my tattoos. She gives me a reassuring smile.

"A lot of the stuff I did wasn't..." I let the words hang in the air, if I told her it wasn't legal would she hate me?

I've never cared what anyone thinks but when it comes to Atlas I second guess myself... I want her to like me, I don't know why but I like being around her and I like that she's my friend.

"I left it all behind because," something shouldn't have happened, something really shouldn't have happened that night., "I wanted to focus on football," I grunt. It's half true, I did leave to focus on football- I've always wanted to be drafted but my dad made me feel like it was a stupid dream so I gave up and worked with him but it wasn't until one horrific night that everything changed- I didn't know who I was and I needed a start fresh. The anger comes boiling back to the surface and the urge to throw the filing cabinet in the room is tempting but I look at Atlas whose eyes are full of concern.

She squeezes my hand and smiles slightly.

"You're not a bad person." She says raising the ice bag to my lip again, it's like she can hear my fucked up thoughts.

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