Chapter Text
Lydia was getting tired, but she was determined not to show it. Parrish scrutinized her as they circled each other in the ring, watching for any sudden movements. "Getting tired, Martin? Need a nap?” He breathed. He kicked her in the side and smiled a cocky, self satisfied smirk when she wheezed. He tried for a hit but Lydia punched him in the jaw. Spitting blood out of his mouth, he shook his head. "That's not in the rules, Lydia. No blood.”
"You didn't seem like such a priss, Parrish," Lydia replied, a sweet smile on her face.
"You didn't seem like such a cheat." Parrish lunged at her, slamming her against the ring.
His face was inches from her as he pinned her against the ropes, his hands wrapped around her wrists. His chest was heaving, and he was uncomfortably close, so close that Lydia could feel his hot breath on her skin. She had seen Parrish times before, but this seemed different. There was a circle of gold around his pupils, making his green eyes glow, and his lips looked pink and soft.
"I just play dirty, that's all," she smiled, leaning closer, letting innuendo drip from her words. Her gaze flit to his mouth, and back to his eyes. Like she intended, he took the bait, and his body went slack as he smiled. Lydia jumped, using the lower half of her body, and kicked him hard in the stomach, so hard he stumbled over.
He whipped around, eyes narrowing, and punched to the right of her temple. Lydia winced, pain streaking through her veins, but she hardly noticed. Grabbing his arm, she twisted it back so he groaned in pain and her lips were at his ear. "Do you need a nap, Jordan?” She hisses. Parrish laughed through his pain.
They continued to spar, dodging punches and kicks, jumping and lunging until both of them were drenched in sweat. "Let's call it a day," Parrish said, his tanned skin slick with sweat. Lydia smoothed back her strawberry-blond fly-aways and hopped over the ring. They both reached for their water bottles. The gym was empty and quiet, and Lydia realized how late it had gotten.
“I should be heading home,” she told him, grabbing her bag from it’s hook. Parrish wiped his forehead with the hem of his tee shirt, and Lydia had to force herself to look away from his washboard abs. “Do you want to grab a drink or something?” He asked. “Underage, remember?” She shrugged on her jacket. “Deaton would murder me.” A half-smile flickered across his face. “Right. Of course. I’m just going to stay here and keep practicing then.”
“You sure? It’s almost twelve. You should go home and get some sleep.” Lydia said. Parrish shrugged and leaned against the ring. “I’ll fit some more reps in before bedtime.” He held the door open for her on her way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called as she strolled down the hallway. "Sleep tight, princess."
"Don't call me that," Lydia replied. But, despite herself, she smiled.