Love Punched | COMPLETED

27. Changing Perceptions

I shook my head to rid myself of the unwanted thoughts, feeling actually comparatively better as I stood up.

My limp was reduced significantly as I walked out, having checked the time to be around 9 PM.

The door from my training room also led straight to the backstage changing room and I found both Tasha and Diego there, talking in hushed whispers.

When they noticed me, they quietened down and Tasha reached over the table to grab something. Diego snatched it from her, earning a scowl from the black afro haired girl.

I rose my brows, glancing between the two before my attention was captured by the object of interest that Diego was carrying. "What's that?"

"Fan Mail." Chirped Tasha from behind and I scoffed.

But Diego nodded, his expression serious.

The only letters I used to get were from a psychotic murderer I was going to take revenge on
so I couldn't exactly imagine what possible 'fan mail' I was getting.

"Here. A very devoted fan dropped it off."

I squinted my eyes suspiciously and noted how Diego's lips were twitching as I snatched the box from him.

It was a little bigger than my entire palm and the weight made my mind whir into action about its contents.

"Who–"

"Well, see you later!" Tasha grabbed Diego whose eyes heatedly looked her up and down.

Ooh, new developments regarding blatant interest.

"We'll get going, you should get home too. Bye!"

Ah.

Why am I surrounded by couples that are all having problems? And why do I not have a love interest?

No, wait. I don't want one. I'm good, yup.

Moving on.

I took the box and left Blue from the back alleyway, able to hear the pounding music still playing inside and noted a few vehicles parked outside.

Sighing to myself, I walked back home, my ankle still hurting but I'd learnt to push through the pain. My other injuries hurt but when I thought about the release I got from the fighting and the pain I'd endured two years ago, this seemed nothing.

Okay, no it didn't seem nothing but just...yeah comparatively less.

As I walked back home, I appreciated the dark cover of the night and and silence tinged with occasional bouts of laughter and random noises.

Once I got home–empty as usual– I grabbed the ice packs and headed up to my room.

After a quick painful shower and changing into a clean set of loose fitted night clothes, I closed the windows and curtains – because I had an annoying fly for a neighbor – then I plopped down on my bed.

Hissing as I landed on a bruise, I adjusted myself slowly and then grabbed the box Diego had given me from my apparent 'fan'.

Curiosity got the best of me and I untied the red ribbon on the 'fan mail' box. The black box had a nice look to it but when I opened it, I was left quiet surprised.

Inside, there was a bottle of Arnica gel for bruises and a note under a small red rose.

Quiet romantic if you ask me.

On a rather serious note, don't ask me because I'm sure my romantic senses are limited to information from when I read books that are far from any reality.