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laughed. Kids today were in such a hurry that they didn’t go back far enough to really appreciate the history of the sport.
    Domenic looked at him perplexed. “Who do you mean, man?”
    An image of the iconic boxer flashed in Trevor’s mind. God, what was his name? Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Wasn’t that what he always said? The man had been not only a boxer and a superior athlete, but an entertainer. Funny as hell. Not to mention one class act.
    â€œUm, you know . . .” Trevor scratched his head.
    Domenic cocked his head to the side.
    Shit. He couldn’t remember. It was as if his memory had a hole in it. The man was only the most iconic boxer of all time. He’d watched the tapes of his old fights since he was a kid. He lifted his ungloved hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.
    â€œAh, what’s his name?” Trevor’s muscles tensed. Aggravation slowly moved through his body. Oh. Who was that guy? Did his name start with an M?
    Domenic piped up. “You’re talking about Muhammad Ali?”
    â€œYes!” Relief poured through him.
    â€œOf course I’ve watched all the Ali tapes. Who hasn’t?” Domenic took a step closer to Trevor and looked directly into his eyes. “Dude, are you all right?”
    As if on cue, Trevor’s visual field blurred. He blinked trying to clear the cloudiness, but the fuzziness wouldn’t disappear. A flash of heat surged though his body, and his large frame swayed.
    â€œTrevor?” Domenic’s voice filled with concern.
    His sparring partner’s face faded in and out of clarity. Trevor grabbed on to the ropes, holding himself up. Waves of nausea swirled through his stomach. The protein shake he drank for breakfast threatened to rise up his throat. His knees buckled.
    â€œDude, I’m calling Daniella,” Domenic announced. Hints of panic marred his voice.
    Using the ropes, Trevor pulled himself to a standing position. “No. Don’t.” He waited for the nausea to pass before he said, “I’m fine.”
    His sparring partner’s eyes widened. “You don’t look fine.”
    â€œIt’s just . . .” What could he blame it on now? Lack of sleep. No breakfast. Burning the candle at both ends. He’d used all of those excuses already, and Domenic was no dummy. Sooner or later he was going to figure out that Trevor had something going on, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d inadvertently rat him out to Daniella.
    He allowed his shoulders to slump. “I’m not as well as I’d hoped to be by now. It’s my head. It comes and goes but it’s nothing serious.”
    Domenic scowled. “It looks serious, man. You sort of turned green there for a minute. I thought you were going to puke.” He placed a gloved hand on Trevor’s shoulder.
    Trevor pressed a gloved hand to his stomach. “I’m fine. Let’s just spar.”
    He shook his head. “No way, I’m not hitting you when you’re like this.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Trevor tried to coerce him. “Once we start training the nausea will subside.”
    Domenic shook his head. “Nope. Not doing it. You’re the best sparring partner I’ve ever had, plus you’ve got a fight to get ready for. I will not take a swing at you.”
    Trevor let out a huff. “Which is exactly why we should stop talking and start sparring.”
    Domenic peeled off a glove. “What would Daniella say if I hit you and made things worse?”
    â€œYou won’t.” He allowed his shoulders to relax.
    Trevor’s mouth flattened in a firm, straight line. He knew the kid wasn’t budging. He must’ve carried too much respect for Trevor and too much fear of Daniella to go against what he felt in his gut. Admirable qualities, but not exactly what Trevor was hoping for. He decided to pitch a new idea.
    â€œWell, if you