10. CHARLOTTE
10
H e gets into the cage, and I wonder if he doesn’t have a ritual or whatever it is that fighters do before a fight. I’m not an expert, but him poppin’ between those nets without any prep seems a bit cocky, even for him.
“Doesn’t he need to, like, warm up or something?” I glance at Phil, still standing next to me. I pull the sleeves of Hunter’s gray hoodie over my wrists and bury my neck into it. It smells fresh, yet manly, a hint of him entering my nose that I suck in deeply.
I don’t like him bringing me here. The thought of him getting hurt makes my stomach hurl in anticipation. Not that I mind seeing him without a shirt, getting all sweaty.
“Yeah, but he never does,” Phil says.
“He doesn’t?”
“Nah, he always gets in and gets out as fast as possible. Trust me, you’ll be back in his truck in ten minutes.”
“Ten?!” I screech, snapping my gaze up at Phil. “How is that possible? Isn’t there like a break between each round?
“There are no rounds.”
“What do you mean?”
He looks at me with a tender expression that makes me feel silly as fuck. “Look, honey, this isn’t an organized fight like you see on TV. That referee?” He points at the man in the cage who looks like he comes straight from a biker bar. “He is only there to make sure neither of them dies. There are no rules. There are no rounds. Whoever gets knocked out first loses. It’s as simple as that.”
I gasp to prevent myself from releasing my burger onto the floor. “Oh, God.”
That son of a bitch. He took me to a fight where he’s literally risking his life? Suddenly, the chill that ran down my spine seconds again is swept away by a heated fear. This could go to shit real fast. I don’t want to watch him get punched until he passes out. Or worse.
My face tenses both in worry and anger. “Is that even legal?”
“Of course not.” Phil chuckles. “Why do you think he makes so much money when he wins?”
The blood drains from my face, and I don’t know if I want to run out the door or run into that cage and kick his ass myself. The other guy is bulky as fuck. He looks like he’s the love child of Hercules and Mister T. A frame so chiseled, it’s disgusting. Hunter’s hot. He’s ripped for a teenager. But compared to this man, he also looks really fucking young.
I can’t believe Hunter thought this was a good idea.
“Hey, don’t worry.” Phil nudges his elbow into my side to grab my attention. “He’s the best in the county. He’ll be done before you know it. It never takes him more than five minutes.”
I peer up into Phil’s brown eyes, beaming at me with amusement. I assume his smile is supposed to be comforting. But instead, it feels like a hand enclosing my heart in a tight grip, while it’s trying to break free. I hear him. But I won’t believe him until I’m safely back in Hunter’s truck. With him in one piece.
I turn my head back to the cage when the room turns silent, dust dancing underneath the spotlights, and the referee asks them if they understand the one and only rule. They both nod their heads before Hunter glances at me once more, giving me a cocky grin.
Arrogant asshole .
I flip him the bird with a glare, ripping a chuckle from him as he gives me another wink. My stomach does a flip for a different reason, but I tuck it as far away as possible, holding my breath as soon as a loud bell starts the fight.
People start to cheer, breaking the silence with encouragement. Instantly, my body is showered with pebbles, and I fumble with my fingers, unable to breathe. Moving around each other, they bounce on their toes, until the other guy moves forward, launching his fists toward Hunter’s face. He easily ducks out of the way, and my heart jumps in relief. Hunter counters the move by quickly punching him in the stomach, then the temple.
“Yes!” I call out, along with half of the crowd. The adrenaline rushes through my veins, fueled by both fear and excitement. Baby Hercules waggles a little before he recovers his stance, ready to go again. The look in the guy's eyes is primal, like he’s ready to eat Hunter as a midnight snack.
He catches Hunter off guard, successfully jabbing him in the nose. His head rears back, and I gasp, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth, while he gets another one the second his head moves forward again. The crowd howls and hoots, cheering it on, while the air around me becomes more loaded with every second.
Letting out a growl in response, Hunter’s frame changes, making my eyes wide as a full moon. He seems to grow an inch as the look on his face turns completely feral, and his hazel eyes darken while the muscles in his neck go rigid.
What the hell?
He looks like a different man, a different energy, as if he’s shredding his boyish skin, evolving into a warrior.
As if the first minute was fun for him, but now playtime is over.
As if he’s channeling all his anger, ready to kick life’s ass .
But I would be lying if I said it doesn’t turn me on more than I can hide.
It’s both sexy and disturbing at the same time.
Hunter rapidly charges the guy, which effectively deflects the punch coming straight toward his face, but not expecting the next, as Hunter gives him another hook to the temple. His head wobbles, and Hunter takes the opportunity to find his face with his knuckles again.
One.
Two.
Three.
The guy sways on his feet, having a hard time keeping his balance while he keeps receiving punch after punch. Blood is spilling on the cage floor, and the guy slowly loses consciousness, making me cringe. My chest slowly drags up and down, each breath in relief, yet trying to push back my nausea.
Finally, Hunter gives him another hook, then slams a punch into his nose, and the guy falls to the floor with an immense thud. Hunter moves to the other side of the cage, panting, taking deep breaths with flaring nostrils. With his hands placed on his sides, we all wait while the referee checks on the other guy. I hold my breath when the big lump of flesh doesn’t move, terrified he won’t wake up.
I’m glad it’s not Hunter, but knowing the circumstances of this fight, I fear the consequences of the last couple of minutes.
I don’t want my friend to be a murderer.
After a few silent moments, the guy stirs, trying to get up, and the air deflates my lungs.
Jesus fucking christ.
Baby Hercules struggles, barely getting on his knees, and the crowd starts to muffle about Hunter claiming victory. When he’s not able to fully get back on his feet without falling back down, the referee points at Hunter .
“Winner!” he exclaims, right before the people around me erupt in cheers. Without waiting another second, Hunter storms out of the cage, snatching a towel from someone on the way out. He rubs the back of his neck, then he wipes it over his face, walking back to me.
His eyes are focused on mine, laced with determination and still showing a gleam of ferociousness, as if I’m the only thing that matters. I now know what Liza meant, saying how she would love to see him all sweaty and heated. His chest glows underneath the dim light, a few sweaty drops rolling down his face as he steps closer to me with big strides.
He might be a senior in high school, but at this moment, he looks like anything but that.
He’s a force to be reckoned with.
Fuck, it’s taking my breath away.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my scowl in place to feign my annoyance as he reaches me.
“I’m going to get his money,” Phil mutters beside me, leaving us.
“Hey.” Hunter smirks, peering down at me with that same cocky grin, just ten times more intense. The skin under his eyes starts to redden, and my hand reaches up to access his face.
“I hate you.”
“What? Why?” he screeches, amused, while my fingers brush the skin on his cheek.
I slam against his hard abs, making him hunch over in response.
“Ouch!”
“One, for dragging me out here without asking me.” I prod my finger into his chest. “Two, for not telling me there are no rules. And three”—I grab his chin with force so he has to look at me—“for scaring me like that.”
He quickly snatches my hand, holding it against his chest as I keep glaring at him, even though I want to wrap him in my arms to make sure he’s okay.
I expect some snarky comment, a flirtatious or even mocking look. Instead, his face softens while he brings his hand to the back of my head and presses a lingering kiss on my forehead. The moment his lips land on my skin, I release a satisfied sigh, ignoring the heat that’s creeping up my neck.
Damn him for being so damn cute when he wants to be.
He tugs me against his chest while his arms hold me in a tight hug. My cheek is glued to his sweaty skin, and he reeks more manly than ever before, but I embrace it.
“I’m sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He strokes my back in a soothing way, and I wrap my arms around his waist, settling deeper into his body. His heart rapidly beats against my ear, and I suck in a relieved breath. We stand like that for a few minutes until Phil comes back with a paper bag. Hunter grabs the bag with one hand while keeping me tucked under his arm with the other.
“It’s all there. You’ve got a new record there, boy. Knocked him out in two minutes and fifteen seconds,” Phil says with a big grin on his face. “You better remember me when you go to the AFA.”
Hunter chuckles beside me while he brings his lips to my ears, feathering the skin with his hot breath. “Told you, lucky charm.” He presses a kiss on my hair, flipping my stomach like a damn bottle throw, then lets go of me to shake Phil’s hand. “Thanks, Phil.”
“No worries, kid. See you next week?”
A small grunt leaves Hunter’s throat before he dips his focus to me, then turns his head back to Phil. “Make that two weeks.”
Phil lifts his eyebrows to the ceiling, then brings his attention to me, shooting me a wink. “Bye, darling. ”
I wave in response as Hunter ushers me out of the building, while people slap his back as we walk by. He looks like a fucking celebrity, but he doesn’t stop until we’re out the door and into the silence of the night. I suck in the fresh air to calm the adrenaline still rushing through my body.
“What’s the AFA?” I ask on our way to the car.
“The American Fighting Association. It’s the organization that hosts all the fights you see on the TV. It’s where the big money is. You okay?” Hunter stills, a worried look on his face.
My eyes fling up to him, and a sense of sadness washes over me as I clear my throat.
Am I okay? I don’t know. I guess I am. I’m happy he’s not hurt. Not much anyway. But now that the nerves slowly ebb from my body, I’m not sure how I feel.
“Why do you fight, Hunt?”
His eyes close for a brief moment, as if the answer is too much to bear. He drags a hand over his face, before it falls beside him, and his lashes fly up with a troubled expression.
“I don’t know.” Disappointment shimmers in his gaze, probably expecting me to reprimand him for his choice to fight.
I examine his face, seeing the lost boy I saw that day at the creek. A boy who’s doing everything he can to stay afloat, even though life keeps making it hard for him. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to. That fighting is not the answer to his problems. When he flipped that switch in the cage, he changed, channeling all his anger and grief. And even though I hate seeing him that heavy and intense, I understand he needs it.
It’s his outlet, because he can’t talk about it.
Because he feels more alone than I could ever imagine.
But you see, that’s the whole thing. I don’t want him to be alone. I want him to realize that he doesn’t have to go to war with a one-man army. I’m here for him .
I sigh, then into his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist again so I can hold him tight.
“Just know that I’m here if you want to talk instead of fight.”