31. HUNTER
31
I t all feels wrong.
I look into the mirror, biting my lip while I stare at my flushed face, not completely recognizing myself. They hooked me up with new gear, the factory smell lingering in my nose and even my hands are wrapped into better bands than I’ve ever fought with before.
I expected a rush of adrenaline from hearing the crowd outside the door, getting amped up because of the fight before me. But really, I’m numb.
This isn’t how I envisioned it. When I got the call that the AFA wanted me, I always pictured Charlotte with me. Cheering me on for my first fight. Hugging me and calling me a showoff when I win. But instead, the empty dressing room feels more daunting than the cage I’m about to step into.
With a deep sigh, I lock gazes with my reflection.
Focus on the goal, Hunt.
Make it big, then do whatever you want.
A year ago, that sentence would end there: make it big.
Now, I want to make it big to have choices. To buy myself time, even though I have no clue how much time I need.
I take my phone from the table, needing to hear her voice.
“How are you feeling?” I smile when Charlotte answers after the first ring, making me think back on all the fights she’s been to with me at the warehouse. Those days seem like forever ago, when really, it’s only been a couple of weeks.
“Pumped.” It’s a lie . But I know that my survival mode kicks in as soon as I’m gated with nothing more than my opponent to go up against.
“You better beat his ass.” Her voice sounds like home, thick, sweet and calming my nerves more than anything else ever could.
“I wanna beat your ass.” Fuck, I miss her.
“Stop flirting with me.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes with a smile, enjoying the fact that she sticks to our routines. I’ve been enjoying the last two weeks, trying to get used to LA life, but I still need her. I still need our phone calls to keep me grounded, reminding me where I’m from.
“How is Liz?” Her mother has been doing good, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed, hoping she’ll be able to stay without Charlotte for a few days so I can see her.
“Good! We went to the bookstore today. Bought a new romance book.”
“You mean word porn?” I tease.
“For your information, asshole ”—There’s a smile in her voice—“it’s a historical romance.”
“No sex?”
“Nope.” Her ‘p’ pops, reminding me of her luscious lips, and I simultaneously lick my own.
“Boring.”
“Asshole mode on, check .”
A smile creeps around my mouth. “I’m your asshole, though.” Her sigh is loaded, filled with unspoken words neither of us is brave enough to release into the world.
“Are you watching?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Of course.” She huffs. “Just… don’t drag it out too long. ”
“Why, babe?” I mock.
“You know why.”
“I wanna hear you say it.”
“You really are an asshole.”
“Say it, or I will go those three rounds, stretching it for as long as possible, knowing you are going bat-shit crazy on the couch.”
“Fuck you,” she spits, and I bark out a laugh.
“Say it.”
“I don’t want to watch you fight longer than necessary,” she finally admits, and I grin at my reflection in the mirror, knowing those are the only words I need before I go out there.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she whispers, though there is hesitation in her voice that’s trying to keep this strictly friends between us.
“Second round, babe. Beginning of the second round.”
“You have to make a show out of it, don’t you?” I know she’s rolling her eyes.
“It’s my first fight, babe. Gotta make an impression, right?”
“Just get out of there unscathed.”
Her concern lifts the tension from my muscles, like taking off my jacket and telling me I’m ready. “Always, babe.”
“Promise?” she asks softly, the tone of her voice making a flutter grow in my stomach, and I drag a hand over my face. Fuck, I wish she was here.
“Promise.”