Page 3 of Acid
I step back and regain my stance, lifting my fists, ready to hit the bag again. I'm prepared to get lost in the motions again when I feel the ring bounce.
I grit my teeth as she snaps back, "Geez, I was asked to give everyone water. You don't have to be such a jerk about it!"
I look her way sharply, my anger heightening before looking into the lightest blue eyes I've ever seen, making me suck in a shocked breath.
Fuck me, she's beautiful, and way too fucking pure to be anywhere near filth like me….
Perrie – Age Fourteen
"Harder!" I hear my dad shout, and I roll my eyes, smiling a little as I grab my water bottle and take a sip. "Fucking duck, William," he continues, and I snort.
People who want him as their trainer are either stupid or smart, depending on their ability to keep up with the man.
My father is one of the most sought-after trainers this side of Brooklyn. Although he may be on the wrong side of the tracks, as some people say, business is booming. I love that he owns Halliwell's gym.
My momma says I was wearing boxing gloves before I could even walk.
"My fucking daughter can hit harder than that!" I hear him roar, and I grin wide as I pick up my calculator.
He's not wrong, I probably could. My father taught me to fight when I was in diapers, whereas my older sister, Cassidy, patched me up afterward.
She's twenty and currently doing her four-year undergraduate program, wanting to go to medical school and become an ER doctor, working her butt off to make our parents proud, which they are, just like I am.
I look up to her, admire her confidence, and especially love it when she doesn't tell our parents what I get up to, even if she doesn't agree.
"Right, one more fuck up like that, and I'm getting Pez out here!" my dad shouts, and I laugh before continuing with my homework.
I need to get good grades to get a college scholarship. I don't want my parents to have to worry about it when they are already paying for Cass's schooling after she missed the cutoff for her applications.
Her advisor gave her the wrong date, which, to this day, I still believe she did on purpose because Cass called her an old hag.
In her defense, the woman had insulted our father because he owns the gym.
I sigh in relief when I finish questions 9 to 32 in my calculus book, and sit back, just as the door to my dad's office opens. I look up, smiling, when my dad's light blue eyes lock with mine.
"All done, sweetie?" he asks, and I nod.
"All done. Thank you for letting me study here instead of at home," I reply, and he grins as he picks up the crate of water bottles.
"Anytime. I know you're not into the whole baking malarkey," he says, and I nod, trying not to let my façade slip.
My mom invited my “best friend” over to bake, which she has been doing a lot since she met her last year. Mom seemed to have forgotten that she has two daughters already and would take Andrea out to get her hair or nails done, if they're not baking.
It's hard not to be upset over it. She never even asks if I want to join.
I met Andrea last year, and she latched onto me when all I wanted to do was stick to the shadows and get on with school. But she wouldn't let me; if anything, she became really pushy, and demanded to meet my parents, and since she’s met my mom and dad, she's tried to stick to my family. I don't understand why.
Her parents are the sweetest, and have much more money than we do, despite my father being the best trainer.
He has a habit of training for free, so….
"So, you're definitely finished?" he asks, raising a brow at me. I raise one back before I eye the crate in his hands, and I groan.
My dad laughs, and I can't help but smile.
With great effort, I stand and take the crate from him, making him grin. Laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes.
"Thank you, sweetie," he says. I grunt and walk past him but stop just shy of the door, and say, "Oh, by the way, the mail came when you went out for lunch. There's another donation for the gym."