Chapter Two

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With a tired sigh, I flung open the doors to the gym and made my way inside. I glanced around at the empty exercise machines, and the corners of my lips pricked up into a smile.

  Excellent, I had the place to myself.

This gym was the poshest one in town, and I loved it. One of the perks of working here was that they granted you with a free membership. I usually came here on nights such as these, as I knew there wasn't going to be many people around. 

Wasting no time, I immediately made a bee-line for the boxing room. I couldn't wait to dig my fists into a nice warm punching bag. Kickboxing was my favorite way to unwind, and boy did I need it after the horrors I went through tonight.

Stupid, stuck up, arse-touching bastard. 

You think someone at least twenty years my senior would know better but apparently not.

Upon reaching the door to my area of the gym, I paused. 

The light in the room was on, and I could hear the occasional grunting sound, indicating someone was hitting hard at a punching bag. 

Fan-fucking-tastic looks like my dreams of being alone had been utterly ruined. 

Not wanting to face social interaction, I was about to turn around but a sound made me stop.

 "Ow, ow, fuck," I heard a voice cry out in pain. 

A giggle escaped my lips, instantly recognizing the familiar voice. What was that idiot doing here at this hour? I twisted open the door with a smile and walked in. 

As expected, a sweaty, shirtless tanned boy lay slung out on the ground while cradling a gloveless hand up to his chest. I walked over to him with a chuckle as he continued to mumble profanities underneath his breath. 

Stopping by his head, I put my hands on my hips and looked down at my idiot friend. His eyes were closed, but upon my arrival, he peeked open one eye. He sighed when he realized it was just me and closed it again. 

"Oh, thank God, I thought I embarrassed myself in front of your hot manager or someone important," he mumbled.

 "Uh," I gasped before kicking him with my heel. "I am very important, thank you very much," I snapped. 

 "Hmm," he hummed unconvincingly.

 "Brandon, what are you even doing here? I thought you'd be back at our apartment," I asked in confusion.

 With a tired grunt, he pulled himself up into a sitting position before running a hand through his sweaty brown hair. He gave me a big toothy grin. "I wanted to hang out with my bestie," he sang.

 I gave him a blank stare as if to silently say, I wasn't born yesterday. 

He raised his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, fine, maybe I came here to peep at your manager as well," he said with the roll of his eyes. 

I chuckled and kicked off my heels before throwing myself down onto the floor next to him. "Typical," I drawled. "I've known you my whole life, yet I still somehow rank lower than my fucking  manager," I snorted, shaking my head at him.

"Glad you know where you stand," he winked. 

My jaw dropped open, which only made him grin harder, his shoulders starting to shake. "Geeze, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughed. 

Brandon reached out and grabbed my hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. "Of course, you rank higher than anyone in my life, Soph," he smiled. 

"As do you," I said, returning his smile. 

Brandon let out an awkward cough. "Erm...not to ruin the moment or anything, but I am seconds away from seeing your nipple," he bluntly remarked as he nodded his head down to my chest. 

Widening my eyes, I looked down and saw my playsuit was slipping down. Hurriedly, I quickly pulled it up before anything could pop free. I blushed as I took in the highly amused look on his face. 

"Oh, shut up," I snapped. "Well, I can totally see your man boobs," I said, pointing at his chest childishly. 

Brandon's face didn't even twitch at my insult. "Man boobs?" he scoffed. "Don't lie, Soph, you know I'm built one hundred percent solid. Also, don't pretend you didn't confess your feelings for me back in year four," he winked. 

A fierce blush overtook my cheeks as I remembered that awful day. All my girl friends back in year four, had somehow convinced me that 'I must secretly be in love with Brandon as girls as boys can't be friends.' 

It was utter bullshit, but I was young and stupid so believed them. Luckily, it only took me till lunch time to realize that a boy who sticks plastic straws up his nose for fun wasn't going to do it for me. 

 "Oh, shut up, I was confused! I'm pretty sure I drank some expired milk or something that day, and was having hallucinations about you being more attractive or something," I protested.  

 "Sure," he snorted, his lips pricking up slightly. 

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, since you're here, you can put yourself to use and hold my punching bag straight for me," I snapped as I clambered my way to my feet.

 Walking over to the storage cupboard, I picked myself out some punching gloves. 

"Aww, no fair, why can't I punch and you hold the bag," he whined.

I turned around and took in the sight of his dumb five-foot-ten pouting self. "Because you're an idiot, who clearly doesn't know how to use punching gloves," I snickered as I pointed down to his hands. They were all covered in bruises and cuts from whacking at the bag.

He frowned as he looked down at them. "Well, they make my hands all heavy and annoying," he grumbled. 

I rolled my eyes and wedged my gloves in between my legs, so I had my hands free to scrape my hair up into a high ponytail.

Brandon looked me up and down in amusement. "Are you seriously gonna fight dressed like that."

 "Yup," I chirped as I pulled on my gloves. 

"Well, alrighty then," he chuckled as he made his way over to the punching bag.

As soon as he was in position and was holding it still, I ran at the bag at full speed before hitting it hard with a jumping kick. I smiled as the bag and Brandon moved back quite a bit. 

"Jesus Christ, take it, easy man," he cried out in shock. 

Ignoring him, I gave the bag another hard whack with my fists. "I'm pissed!" I shouted. "I quit my job today, and now I'm fucked!"

"Seriously? What happened? Why would you do that? You need that money," he rambled out in confusion. 

I let out a bitter laugh. "Well, some fucking idiot-"

Whack. 

"Decided it was a good idea to-" 

Whack. 

"Squeeze-" 

Whack. 

"My-" 

Whack. 

"Fucking-" 

Whack. 

"Ass!" I screamed. I took a step back, and my chest rose and fell heavily as I tried to regain back my breath.

"What an asshole..," Brandon whispered as a look of disgust overtook his entire face.

"Well, I'm glad you quit; no job's worth that shit," he spat. 

"Precisely," I laughed. 

"And, let me guess, the guy was rich, right?" he mumbled bitterly. 

"Now, how did you ever guess that?" I bit back sarcastically.

 He scoffed. "Because every rich guy is an asshole!"

"Hmm," I hummed in agreement.

I continued to punch the bag in silence for a couple of minutes before I growled in annoyance and finally gave up.

"Brandon, punching this stupid bag isn't making me feel any better," I hissed as I ripped myself away from the bag. 

Marching my way to the corner of the room, I pressed my back against the wall and sunk down to the floor. Brandon quickly followed me and sat down beside me. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me towards him.

"Don't worry, Soph, I'll help pay your side of the rent for however long it takes you to find a new job," he whispered comfortingly.

 I wanted to protest and say I wouldn't take charity. But I knew I was in no position to say anything of the sort. Reluctantly, I nodded my head before looking back up at him. 

"You know I still need more. Mum's still in the hospital, and dad didn't even mention her on the phone, which means things are only getting worse," I sighed. "Dad needs my help. He pretends he doesn't, but he does. What happens when it gets to the point where he can't even feed the twins?" I mumbled.

"That won't happen," Brandon snapped determinedly. "We won't let that happen; you'll get another job, Sophie."

I shook my head gently. "I've been looking for a new job for a while, Brandon. There's nothing...," I whispered. 

His face dropped, and the two of us sat in silence as we both tried to come up with a solution. 

He shrugged. "Well, you could become a drug dealer, I guess," he smiled as the corners of his lips pulled up into a little smirk.

 I gave him a flat look. "You're an idiot," I laughed, not being able to resist cracking a smile. He always knew how to cheer me up. 

Sitting up straighter, I raised a pointed finger. "Or, I could become a hooker," I suggested, deciding to join in. 

He nodded his head. "Nice, nice, keeping it classy," he remarked playfully. "How about selling your dirty panties? I hear that can get you quite the dollar?" he smiled as he waggled his eyebrows. 

"Eww god, no, I'm not letting some creepy old man sniff my underwear" I said as I shivered in disgust. 

Just like that, an idea popped into my mind. "Ooo, I've got one," I said as I raised my hand.

 "What?  A phone sex-worker?" He guessed with a laugh. 

"No, a Golddigger," I smirked. "Think about it, I date someone rich, and then boom, I've got myself a sugar daddy for life," I winked.

 Brandon shook his head with a snicker, but then he paused, his face going oddly serious. A strange light flickered through his eyes. 

"You know what, that's not a bad idea," he said, turning towards me in excitement.

 I snorted. "Are you stupid? That's a terrible idea. It's such a cruel thing to do to someone. There's no way I could ever go through with that."

"Hmm, well, what if the guy deserved it?" he proposed.

 That made me pause, and memories of all the horrible things rich men had said to me at the club washed past my mind. Someone like them would certainly deserve it.

"Well, I guess, maybe...," I whispered. A second more of silence ensued. "But he'd still have to be hot, of course," I added as an afterthought.

Brandon broke out into laughter at my comment, and I quickly joined in. Soon we sobered up and stopped cackling like idiots. 

He turned to look at me and smiled. "Now, what do you say we cheer you up with a good dose of dancing and alcohol poisoning. Fancy a clubbing trip?" he proposed.

"Well, I'm already dressed to make bad decisions, so why not?" I shrugged.  

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