Punch-Drunk Love by Nico Jaye

Author:Nico Jaye [Jaye, Nico]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay Romance
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

It’s a Scientific Fact That Morning Afters Arrive Two Days Too Early

After the nonstop drinking at the celebration dinner, the suite party, and SPIN the night before, Oliver’s Monday was, to say the least, rather painful, and that had nothing to do with the colorful bruise on his cheekbone. The day began with a perky “Good morning!” from the hotel front desk, and that wake-up call for the flight back to San Francisco arrived a millennium too soon.

When Oliver had rolled out of bed to stumble towards the shower, Terrence, who had just walked into the room with a towel draped around his neck, had given him an odd look. That swimming feeling in Oliver’s head had been an unfortunately familiar experience for him.

Because tequila?

Tequila was Diablo.

With the help of his friends Water and Coffee, Oliver somehow made it through both the morning and the flight back. Upon turning on his phone again at SFO, he could only thank whatever miracle had made his Ethics in Science TA blast a class-wide email canceling his only discussion section that afternoon. While it didn’t mean he could skip his training session at SFE on Monday evening, Oliver at least had a chance to rest when he got back to his apartment.

He’d need that rest for the sparring session at SFE because Derek?

Derek was riding him hard.

“Oliver, c’mon, I know you can kick higher. C’mon, hit me!”

Derek’s words of encouragement fueled a small fire in Oliver, and he made an effort to stay sharp. He’d never sparred with the team captain before, so when Derek had paired everyone off and left Oliver for himself, he’d been a little surprised… and intimidated.

He didn’t want to screw up, but he also wasn’t anywhere close to the top of his game that evening. To make things worse, it was obvious Derek was still in peak form even after having gone through a full set of competition matches within the last forty-eight hours.

There’s only one way to explain it, Oliver’s tired mind provided. Superhuman.

In the regulation-sized ring where the team captain typically sparred at the side of the room, they traded unevenly matched jabs and crosses, kicks and roundhouses, until Derek had him up against the ropes. Derek pressed into him for a moment longer than necessary, his breath ghosting against Oliver’s cheek. Oliver’s heart pounded, and the smell of honest sweat drifted towards him before Derek stepped back.

“Again.”

So they sparred again, and Oliver tried his damndest to keep up. By the end of the hour, Oliver felt like he’d done battle with an eighteen wheeler.

He managed to stay on his feet through a blissfully hot shower afterwards, agreeing to something when someone asked him a question through the frosted shower curtain. His brain wasn’t fully checked in today, which should really be known as the longest day in the history of ever, but it sounded vaguely like “womp-wuh-womp tonight?” He’d just ask about it when he got out.

The steam must’ve cleared away that reminder, though,

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