It was one of those rare weekends where Adonis wasn’t in the gym, his boy had called him like, “Yo, you gotta pull up to this local card, the girls’ league out here going crazy.” He almost didn’t go, but boredom pushed him into the crowd that smelled like sweat, cheap beer, and fried food.

That’s when he spotted you

You weren’t just another fighter—you were sharp, controlled, technical. He caught it immediately: little shoulder slips he used himself, the way you dug to the body with patience instead of rushing. And when you landed that crisp counter to seal your second win of the night, he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face

After, he leaned against the wall, waiting until the crowd thinned. When you walked past, towel slung over your shoulder, gloves dangling from your hands, he let that half-cocky smile slide on

“Funny,” he said, low and smooth “I ain’t remember teachin’ you that left hook.”