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Chapter 2: Too Close To The Fire
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2025-12-14 22:02:43Milena Dragovic
I stood, sliding the folder into my bag. “I’ll think about it. I’ll give you my answer by the end of the week.”John nodded, but I could still see worry on his face.
The office was tucked away at the very back of the gym, which meant you had to walk past the locker rooms to get out.
The hallway was warm, humid, and heavy with the scent of leather, soap, and sweat. Just as I reached one of the locker room doors, it flew open.
I jerked back, but not in time, colliding with the man who stepped out and falling straight on my ass.
“Watch it!” I snapped, looking up at the culprit. The words caught in my throat, choking on the sight in front of me.
Alexander.
He hadn’t even seen me yet, a towel covering his face as he rubbed it through damp black hair. Water dripped down the side of his jaw, glistening against skin still flushed from the shower. His hoodie was gone, leaving him in nothing but shorts. His godly body was still damp from the shower, and I couldn’t help but stare at his well-toned abs.
He pulled the towel down, finally noticing me sitting there.His gaze flicked over me once, steady and unreadable, before landing on my eyes.
No apology. No explanation. Just… a look.
Then he moved past me, silent, disappearing down the hall without a single word.
I just realized I was staring at him with awe and disbelief, my mouth hanging open. I quickly clicked it shut, though my heart clearly hadn’t gotten the memo as my pulse was as fast as a boxer’s fists in the final round.”
What the hell is his problem?
Technically I already knew what his problem was, I had a whole file in my bag to explain his behavior… Still… a girl can be surprised when the storm hits her in person.
I shook my head, and grunted while I picked myself up. I forced my legs to move and pushed open the exit door to step out.But even as the fresh air rushed in, I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head.
I need coffee.
I chose to walk to the gym today, as my apartment is only 10 minutes away. Besides… The weather is nice and I had a feeling I’d need the walk to clear my mind after talking to John.
I walked down the street, the trees on both sides hanging over me and creating shadow. Most of the leaves were still green, but a few had started turning yellow as autumn is almost near. The air was warm, but not heavy the way it had been a few weeks ago, and every now and then a breeze pushed through the branches. It felt relaxing.
I took a deep breath as another breeze came. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into, but I don’t think it will be an easy sail.
I decided to stop at Starbucks for a quick hazelnut Latte. Normally I don’t drink caffeine. Well, I don’t like coffee in general, but with a bit of sugar and my favorite taste, hazelnut, I can enjoy it. Although the only time I drink it is when I deal with difficult cases. Which quite frankly, happens a lot.
I start thinking of my potential Latte addiction as I step into Starbucks. It’s not very busy, for a Friday morning.
“One hazelnut Latte, please!” I say, as the waitress looks at me.
“Oh, and make it grande!” “Name?” She replies with a slightly monotone uninterested voice. “Mila.” I don’t bother giving her my full name, it always causes a weird spelling.As I’m waiting for my drink I sit down and quickly grab my phone to G****e Alexander. Yes… My curiosity got the better of me. As soon as I clicked enter, I got overwhelmed with articles and photos. I suppress my urge to check the images and scroll through the search. Fight records, sports articles, and even some reddit stories fly by. Professional instinct told me to focus on the fight stats, the injuries, the gaps in his record… but my eyes betrayed me, lingering on the images longer than I should have. I suddenly noticed a whole thread about thirsty middle aged women, gawking over his body on the internet. My stomach tightened.
Was this jealousy I was feeling?
“Myla?” I suddenly heard the waitress shout.
Really? After coming here almost every morning for the last six months, they still couldn’t get my name right?
I quickly locked my phone, not bothering to close the numerous tabs that stared back at me whenever I opened my browser, and walked to the counter.
“Thank you, Layla,” I shot back, over-enunciating. At least one of us had a functioning memory.
I wrapped my hands around the warm cup, letting the heat sink into my palms. That usually helped me relax.
It should have grounded me.
Instead, all I could see was a pair of calm, unreadable eyes. And the way he’d walked past me like I didn’t exist.
This is ridiculous, I told myself. I don’t even know him.
And yet, my pulse still hadn’t slowed.
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