Chapter 238: 238 | Iron Coast
Jordan caught Chloe’s wrist before she could walk toward the parking lot.
"Hey."
She turned, one eyebrow raised. "Hey yourself."
"Come here."
"We’re in public."
"I don’t care."
Jordan pulled her close, one hand settling on the small of her back while the other cupped her jaw. She made a small sound of surprise that died when his mouth found hers.
The kiss was soft at first. Gentle. The kind of kiss you give someone when you want them to know they matter.
Then Chloe’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer, and gentle went out the window.
"Mmph."
Her lips parted under his. Jordan tasted the mint of her lip balm and something sweeter underneath, something that was just her. His thumb traced the line of her jaw while his other hand pressed flat against her spine, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin material of her sweater.
When they finally broke apart, Chloe’s cheeks were flushed and her breathing had gone uneven.
"What was that for?"
"Felt like it."
"You felt like making out in front of the Humanities building."
"Yeah."
Chloe stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed, bright and surprised, and shoved his shoulder.
"You’re ridiculous."
"You like it."
"I like a lot of things about you." She smoothed down the front of his shirt where her fingers had wrinkled it. "Where are you headed?"
"Gym. Need ninety minutes for my daily quest."
Chloe’s expression shifted into something knowing. "The boxing place? Iron Coast?"
"That’s the one."
"Kyle and Leo?"
"Went yesterday. Flying solo today."
"Mmm." Her eyes traveled down his body in a way that made his skin warm. "Text me when you’re done. Kumiko and I are going over content schedules for the week."
"Will do."
Chloe rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Don’t get your face broken. I like your face."
"Noted."
She walked away, her hips swaying in a way that was definitely intentional. Jordan watched her go until she disappeared around the corner of the library building.
His phone buzzed.
DAILY QUEST: Path to Becoming Adonis
Physical: 0/90 minutes remaining
Get moving, idiot.
Jordan snorted and headed for the parking structure.
The drive to Iron Coast took seventeen minutes. Jordan spent the time with his windows down and his radio off, letting the warm California air wash over him while his brain processed the events of the day.
Ava Moreno. The girl who could solve differential equations in her sleep but couldn’t order food without having a panic attack. Jordan had seen her type before, back when he’d been one of them. The kind of person who hid their talents behind walls of insecurity because being invisible felt safer than being seen.
He was going to fix that.
Not because he was some kind of hero. Not because he had a savior complex. But because Ava Moreno was useful, and useful people deserved to know they were useful. Simple as that.
Then there was Alexis Van Der Berg. The ice queen of Pacific Crest Academy, melting around the edges when she thought no one was watching. Arranged marriage to some trust fund idiot named Harrison Van Allen the Third. Parents who treated her like a stock portfolio instead of a daughter.
Jordan almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
And finally, Eliza Hartwell. His ex. The girl who’d taken forty-five hundred dollars from him and given nothing back but humiliation and heartbreak.
She’d apologized.
Jordan had told her he didn’t need it.
Both statements were true.
He pulled into the Iron Coast parking lot at 2:34 PM. The gym occupied a converted warehouse in an industrial district that most Pacific Crest students wouldn’t be caught dead in. Graffiti covered the exterior walls. The sign above the door was hand-painted and chipped. A homeless guy was sleeping on a bench across the street.
Jordan loved this place.
He pushed through the front door and the familiar smell hit him immediately. Sweat. Leather. Industrial cleaner. The soundtrack of fists meeting heavy bags and the rhythmic skip of jump ropes.
The main floor was mostly empty at this hour. A few guys working the heavy bags in the corner. An older man shadow boxing in front of the mirror. The weight area held two women doing squats with impressive form.
No Kyle. No Leo.
Good.
Jordan needed focus today, not Leo’s complaints about being too sore to move or Kyle’s attempts to get him to talk about his feelings.
He headed for the back room where the boxing rings were set up.
And stopped.
Maya Santos stood in the center of the nearest ring, her hands wrapped in red tape, her body glistening with sweat. She was working a sequence on a heavy bag that hung from a chain in the corner of the ring, her fists connecting with the leather in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack-thwack.
Her form was perfect. Each punch flowed into the next with zero wasted motion. Her footwork kept her balanced and mobile, never standing still, always shifting.
She wore black compression shorts that ended mid-thigh and a sports bra that left most of her torso exposed. The muscles in her back rippled with each impact. Her abs, visible and defined, contracted and released in perfect time with her breathing.
Maya Santos was terrifying.
Maya Santos was also really, really hot.
Jordan pushed that thought down deep and walked toward the ring.
Maya didn’t stop hitting the bag. Didn’t acknowledge his presence. Just kept working, her braid swinging with each movement, sweat dripping down the curve of her spine.
Jordan leaned against the ropes and waited.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack-thwack-THWACK.
The final hit sent the heavy bag swinging wide. Maya caught it with one hand, steadied it, and finally turned to face him.
Her dark eyes found his. No surprise. No warmth. Just that same intense focus she brought to everything.
"McKnight."
"Santos."
"You’re alone."
"Observant."
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