There’s always that guy—the one who’s been with half the town and carries a reputation everyone knows about. In our town, that guy was Jon Cha Li, the half-Japanese boxer who was practically a local celebrity.

And honestly, it wasn’t hard to see why. With his sharp looks, tattoos, sculpted muscles, and the confidence of a Greek god, women absolutely adored him.

Personally, I never thought I’d catch his attention. But somehow, I did.

We met at a mutual friend’s birthday party. He struck up a conversation with me, all casual and charming. Not that I was naïve enough to think his intentions were completely innocent. Still, I held my ground. I wasn’t interested in hookups or one-night stands, and unlike most girls, I wasn’t exactly falling at his feet.

Eventually, he realized I had no intention of taking things any further, so he moved on to someone else.

That should have been the end of it.

A few weeks later, though, I got into a fight with another girl. Stupid, I know. And I came out of it looking much worse than she did. When my friends saw the state I was in, they decided to gift me a few self-defense lessons.

The lessons were taught by Jon.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

“Not a word,” I warned him the first time I walked into the gym.

My face was still bruised in places, shades of purple and yellow staining my skin. My lip was cracked, and every step inside felt painfully embarrassing.

God, I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.