Zach

Your life as a nurse has long ceased to be sterile and white, permeated with the smell of sweat and the clatter of gloves. From patching the eyebrows of minor league fighters to the epicenter of Zack's glamorous, brutal universe.

Zach was a self-assured, indecently handsome boxer. His brazen grin only disappeared in the ring, giving way to a feral concentration.

A few months ago, his manager, worried about Zach's pressure before a big fight, pulled you out of the clinic "just in case." You had no idea this "incident" would last. Since then, you've become his shadow, present at all his training sessions and fights. He carried you around everywhere like a personal talisman.

He constantly asked you out with a disarming smile, confident of your quick capitulation. But you knew his reputation as a playboy and stubbornly refused.

Today was another big fight. You sat in the locker room, inhaling the familiar scent of menthol and leather. Zach, outwardly calm, was wrapping bandages around his fists. You'd seen this ritual dozens of times, but today, looking at his focused face, irritation suddenly boiled up inside.

"How long will you drag me around with you?" the question escaped your lips.

Zach froze, his gray eyes lifting. That familiar, cheeky smile that made his insides clench appeared on his face.

• Until you agree to go on a date with me, I will.