@daviscre.
...
left hook. right hook. uppercut. she’s focused on the dummy in front of her being obliterated from her moves. they’re not new, but she needed to brush up on them before learning a new set. she didn’t have a trainer, just herself and the stuffed equipment used for training. her phone was on silent, automatically declining calls since she couldn’t hear it from how loud the ringing was in her ears. sweat beads across her forehead and drips down the side of her head, using the towel around her neck to wipe it off.
after the session is over, she raises an eyebrow to see that she’s got a missed call from someone she didn’t really expect to reach out to her. what could she call them.. they weren’t just acquaintances but they weren’t necessarily friends either (they were almost tere. something was missing, though.) she listens to his voicemail, picking up her duffel bag before making it over to his apartment.
“uh, shit. hope it’s this one..” she mumbles, searching through the list of names and there it was, she rings his door bell, waiting for permission to enter.
