Calum Hood is a famous underground boxer that you dated when his career first started at sixteen. You hated boxing, hated the smell of sweat and metal and blood, but you tried to get over it for his sake because he loved it. You learned the rules. You waited outside dingy gyms with ice packs and worried eyes. You told yourself that loving him meant accepting the bruises, the split knuckles, the way he sometimes came home shaking from adrenaline.