The Boxer

Chapter 3

     Cryssy slammed the door to her house closed, leaving Harry and his giant ego behind her. Oh, how he made her mad. The entire night, he did nothing but flirt with the new waitress. It pissed Cryssy off, and she swore she'd never bother with that ass-hole again. How could the same person who saved her turn into such a dick? But, then again, why the hell did she care so much? 

     She didn't. And she would continue to stop herself from believing otherwise. So, with one last angry puff of air and kick to the corner of the table, she went upstairs, showered, and lay in bed, contemplating why boys were so irritating.

~

     Harry watched, slightly amused as Cryssy stormed into the house. Sure, he was still kind of mad about how she wouldn't shut the fuck up the entire ride to drop her off, but something about her was different. She didn't fawn all over him even though he knew she liked him. Well, thought he was hot at least, and why not play that to his advantage?

     Part of him didn't want to. He knew it was mean and he'd been enough of a dick tonight. Plus, seeing her so upset made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn't know why. The other part of him . . .well . . .

     "different," Harry muttered to himself. "How fucking cliché."  Cryssy was no different than other girl and he would continue to try and convince himself he didn't think otherwise. 

     Just as Cryssy was. 

     And, as he got home, showered, and lay in bed, he tried desperately to fathom how this small girl was causing him such a huge headache in only the two days he'd known her. 

     When Harry walked into the gym the next day, he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes when he saw Louis perched on one of the benches talking to Amanda, one of the workers who seemed to just love Louis' company. But as soon as Amanda caught sight of a bitter-looking Harry, she bid Louis farewell and shuffled off in the opposite direction. Louis seemed unfazed at her sudden departure and smiled at Harry when he approached.

     "So, how was the date?" he questioned like Harry's very own gossip girl. 

     "Shitty," was all he said, wandering around Louis and into the locker rooms. Louis followed, watching as Harry threw his bag down and retrieved his gloves and water bottle from the over-used duffel.

     "Learned that last night from Cryssy. I was just hoping it was because you were being your jerk self, which is easily fixable," Louis commented, hands on his hips as he spoke. Harry rolled his eyes.

     "What are you, my mother?"

     "No, but I ought to be, considering you've got no control over yourself," Louis muttered. Harry tried hard not to punch Louis, but he knew he was only saying it because he was right. He'd never admit to it, but he knew it alright. "What happened between you two? You guys got on great at the club!" Harry shrugged.

     "Women are just a pain," he answered as he pulled on his boxing gloves. Louis rolled his eyes. 

     "It's more than that," Louis spoke knowingly. "Tell me." Harry sighed, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he stood with his back turned to his friend. 

     "You remember Lynn?"

     "Of course, a bloody bitch that one is," he spat. 

     "Remember how we used to fight all the time?" he nodded "Cryssy and I do the same thing." Louis shook his head. 

     "Harry, you're only fighting with her because you're being a jerk and she hates that. She had enough of that with Max and she's finally learning to stand up for herself. Lynn . . . Lynn just loved to fight. She loved making you feel like shit 'cause it made her feel better about herself. Now, trust me when I say Cryssy is nothing like that witch, alright?" Harry turned around, finally facing Lou again. His face was hard and void of all emotion.

     "We'll see," he said plainly, walking past him and out to the ring. But just as Louis was about to give in and leave, Harry called for him. "Will Cryssy be at the club tonight?" Louis grinned. 

     "She will be now."

     After Louis left, Harry strolled on over to one of the large punching bags hanging around the gym, hopping on the balls of his feet. Much to his displeasure, memories of his ex filled his thoughts. The last thing he wanted right now was to think of the one person that had earned his trust and beat it into the ground before him. 

     You're probably wondering what the hell Lynn did to Harry. How he ever trusted her in the first place and how she killed the very last piece of humanity within Harry's body. Did she cheat? Or just plain get up and leave him without an explanation? But, that's a story for another time. In the near future for sure, but not now. 

     Harry shook off his dark memories that still caused an ache in the small portion of care he still had. He attacked the bag of sand with such a force you'd be knocked off your feet within a second. Harry knew he was powerful; he knew he was strong and smart, yet he never once bragged about it. He showed it in his fights. Because only the scum of the men who boxed bragged about their abilities and it made Harry sick. 

     Harry boxed because it was all he had. They boxed for the fame, money and chicks. And, although Harry used those, he could do without just the same. In fact, he preferred it, but alas, his manager (whom he rarely saw) made it quite clear to keep his image up. Harry hated the thought of having a manager and an agent always telling him what to do and where to be. He missed the days where it was only him and Levy, boxing their hearts out. He missed not giving a damn about anything but boxing. Now, everything had changed in a matter of a few measly years. Ridiculous. 

     Matt tapped the angered teen on the shoulder and Harry turned to face him, pulling out his ear bud and looking at his trainer, obviously annoyed that he was interrupted.

     "Can I help you?" he snarled. By now, Matt was used to the constant attitude Harry gave and ignored it. Harry had his reasons to be the equivalent of a bitter old man. Matt only knew of one friend Harry truly had, but he also knew what happened between Harry and Levy and knew it was just a cover for the lonely boy he really was. 

     "Yeah, actually. There's some kids who need training. Care to help me out?" Despite Harry being some big monster-like guy to most people, Harry was completely different around kids. No one knew why, really, but whatever the reason, no one ever brought it up. 

     Truth was, as Harry grew up, he would always try and take care of his sister, despite her being the older sibling by a few years. Their father wasn't around, and, with their mum constantly working, Harry always played with her and cooked her meals since she was so small when they were kids. Now that he was grown, he held the same protectiveness of children as he did over his sister. He truly feared them becoming like him. Alone and always angry. It wasn't the ideal life. But, Harry would never admit to caring so much; he never did. Because he never really cared for anything else. 

     Matt guided Harry over to the 4-16 year olds, who were currently waiting by the ring. Some of them looked slightly scared at the sight of Harry, but with one flash of his dimpled smile, which most people rarely saw, they knew he wasn't as bad as they thought. Matt took the older kids, knowing Harry didn't deal well with punks. So, Harry had the 4-10 year olds. He gave them simple instructions, let them hit the large palms of his hands with their tiny boxing gloves and laughed when they got impatient. 

     Amanda, who was worked near the kid's training area, watched him. She found this Harry utterly fascinating. 

Harry's P.O.V.

     I tried to ignore Amanda staring at me. It was awkward, weird and just annoying. I focused back on the child in front of me, hitting my palms with all his might and barely making it move. He was only five and reminded me of a young version of myself. He had curly brown locks and dark green eyes, and a temper to match.

     He huffed and stomped his foot in defiance. "This is stupid!" he cried, throwing his bright red gloves on the ground

     "Is it now?" I inquired, squatting in front of him to get on his level. He turned away defiantly. 

     "Yes!"

     "Ya know Jimmy, I said the same thing when I was younger. But then, I got the hang of it and got muscles like these," I told him, pulling up my arm and flexing so it was about the size of his head. He stared, wide eyed. 

     "Wow!"

     "Yup. But you gotta keep training if you ever want these kind of muscles." 

     "Really?" I nodded, a slight smile present. "Okay!" his small features carried a determined look as he soaked in my words. His tiny hands balling into fists, he pulled on his gloves once again. 

     "Oh please. Like a kid as scrawny as him will ever gain any muscle," one of the older kids laughed. I turned my head, glaring at the snobby sixteen year-old who had snuck away from Matt's lesson. "You're just filling his mind with hopes and dreams he'll never accomplish," he snorted. 

     I felt anger well within me. These were the types of little punks I didn't want to deal with. Standing to my full height, I towered over him. The kid looking slightly surprised to see how much bigger I was than him. 

     "Care to run that by again? Punk?" to my surprise, he stood his ground, obviously unaware of who I was or the damage I could cause to his snot-nosed self. 

     "I said, the little brat ain't getting anywhere." I laughed. 

     "Tell me, do you watch boxing often?"

     "No, but I know of all the greatest boxers," he smirked. I mirrored the expression.

     "Ever hear of Harry Styles?" the kid's eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

     "Oh yeah! I hear the guy's amazing! Can knock someone out in two seconds flat! He's scary as all hell." My smirk grew, and as I was about to reply when Matt jogged over, looking slightly worried. He must've knew this kid was a jerk. 

     "Harry! Alex here causing any trouble?" he asked, grabbing the boys shoulder. I shrugged, looking back to him. 

     "Harry? . . . a-as in Harry Styles?" he stuttered. 

     "Yeah . . .?" Matt answered. I grinned. 

     "I-I wasn't causing any trouble. No Sir! Um, good luck, Jimmy!" the teen spoke quickly before running back to the other side of the gym. Matt stared at me curiously. 

     "What was that about?" I shrugged

     "He's lucky he knows his boxers," was all I said before turning back to Jimmy and telling him to try again. Sometimes, my job wasn't all bad.