City Fitness is located by the entrance way of Etihad Campus, houses exclusive and intensive fitness and wellness programs that are to offer. They limited the membership to mostly affluent subscribers with a ridiculously expensive monthly fee but compensated with state-of-the-art fitness facilities and personal coaching programs.

I told Nick that I've never came to this part of Manchester as it was considered forbidden under Abs' book to set foot on the land of Red Devil's worst rival. Abs was a Man United fan, so it goes without saying. Nick looked at me with a sneer and called me a halfwit.

As we got out of his McLaren 675LT Spider, I caught a few City Junior players loitering outside the premise which made me wanted to hurl. And when we got in, I was dumbstruck by their automatic wall climbing treadmill machine rotating on a conveyor which was located outdoor, that I couldn't help gasping in admiration while Nick smirked at my childish reaction. Nevertheless, I felt like a walking wobbly jelly among these toned looking bodies of god and goddess, flexing their muscles on the fitness machines.

Nick signed me up as his guest before taking me to the upper floor private training room partitioned by frosted glass walls. The room was twice as big as mine adorned with laminated wooden flooring and large padded carpet in the centre.

I went to change into my Under Armour shorts and Sports Direct tank top inside the ensuite shower room and exited the room only to see Nick had nothing on except for his boxer shorts and his blue coloured shin guards.

I was overwhelmed by the excessive amount of tattoos on his medium fair skin. Not only they covered the third quarter of his arms, but the ink also blanketed his entire torso from waist up to his collar bones, sprawling onto his shoulder back, leaving the lower back bare. Despite all that, the aesthetic monstrosity of the artwork on Nick's defined muscles and seductively sculptured body had made Abs look like a beat-up vagina.

I studied his tattoo further and finally get to see the face of a beautiful lady in her 40s on his skin. Noticing me eyeing on his tattoos, he slapped me playfully with his face towel.

"Stop staring at my tits," Nick quipped in an impassive manner. "I could file you for sexual harassment for that."

"I... I wasn't," I stuttered, crimson flushed from my ears to my cheeks. "I was admiring your body art."

"We're here for sparring, not to appraise some artefacts," Nick said with a hint of smug on his face. He took a pair of red shin guards and gloves before handing them to me, gesturing at my feet. "Take your shoes off."

I obeyed. I kicked my Nike trainers off effortlessly and then, I putted on the shin guards and the gloves.

"So, becoming your punching bag is also part of my job description?" I asked mockingly.

"No, the talk at Blackpool had got me thinking," he said flatly.

"Are you reconsidering me joining the squad–"

"I've not considered anything at all," he cut off. "Although my protection is at your disposal, you're still at risk regardless. There would be occasions where I can't be there for you. So, you need to know some basic self-defence skills."

"My self-defence skills are good," I boasted. "I beat you up well."

"You have a blazing spirit but lack agility and balance," he pointed out. "You're a terrible fighter."City Fitness is located by the entrance way of Etihad Campus, houses exclusive and intensive fitness and wellness programs that are to offer. They limited the membership to mostly affluent subscribers with a ridiculously expensive monthly fee but compensated with state-of-the-art fitness facilities and personal coaching programs.

I told Nick that I've never came to this part of Manchester as it was considered forbidden under Abs' book to set foot on the land of Red Devil's worst rival. Abs was a Man United fan, so it goes without saying. Nick looked at me with a sneer and called me a halfwit.

As we got out of his McLaren 675LT Spider, I caught a few City Junior players loitering outside the premise which made me wanted to hurl. And when we got in, I was dumbstruck by their automatic wall climbing treadmill machine rotating on a conveyor which was located outdoor, that I couldn't help gasping in admiration while Nick smirked at my childish reaction. Nevertheless, I felt like a walking wobbly jelly among these toned looking bodies of god and goddess, flexing their muscles on the fitness machines.

Nick signed me up as his guest before taking me to the upper floor private training room partitioned by frosted glass walls. The room was twice as big as mine adorned with laminated wooden flooring and large padded carpet in the centre.

I went to change into my Under Armour shorts and Sports Direct tank top inside the ensuite shower room and exited the room only to see Nick had nothing on except for his boxer shorts and his blue coloured shin guards.

I was overwhelmed by the excessive amount of tattoos on his medium fair skin. Not only they covered the third quarter of his arms, but the ink also blanketed his entire torso from waist up to his collar bones, sprawling onto his shoulder back, leaving the lower back bare. Despite all that, the aesthetic monstrosity of the artwork on Nick's defined muscles and seductively sculptured body had made Abs look like a beat-up vagina.

I studied his tattoo further and finally get to see the face of a beautiful lady in her 40s on his skin. Noticing me eyeing on his tattoos, he slapped me playfully with his face towel.

"Stop staring at my tits," Nick quipped in an impassive manner. "I could file you for sexual harassment for that."

"I... I wasn't," I stuttered, crimson flushed from my ears to my cheeks. "I was admiring your body art."

"We're here for sparring, not to appraise some artefacts," Nick said with a hint of smug on his face. He took a pair of red shin guards and gloves before handing them to me, gesturing at my feet. "Take your shoes off."

I obeyed. I kicked my Nike trainers off effortlessly and then, I putted on the shin guards and the gloves.

"So, becoming your punching bag is also part of my job description?" I asked mockingly.

"No, the talk at Blackpool had got me thinking," he said flatly.

"Are you reconsidering me joining the squad–"

"I've not considered anything at all," he cut off. "Although my protection is at your disposal, you're still at risk regardless. There would be occasions where I can't be there for you. So, you need to know some basic self-defence skills."

"My self-defence skills are good," I boasted. "I beat you up well."

"You have a blazing spirit but lack agility and balance," he pointed out. "You're a terrible fighter."