Chapter 7 #2
“Tommy?” Kira puts a hand on the ropes and looks up at me beseechingly. I crouch down by her, and try to smile.
“Just for fun,” I repeat, not sure how believable I am. “We’re just playing around.”
“What happened to his back?” I hear Janessa gasp, followed by the feeling of eyes on my bruised skin.
I glance over my shoulder and see everyone looking at me, but it’s Young-gi’s stare that has the most weight.
His eyes trace down my spine, then snap up to meet mine but I look away quickly.
He saw me last night. He knows what happened.
“Claremont is a bit of a daredevil,” Brian laughs, and claps a hand on my shoulder, intentionally hitting a sore spot. “He was showing off, probably a little too drunk. He didn’t exactly stick the landing.”
“Tommy doesn’t drink,” Lexie argues.
“Not here,” I agree under my breath.
“How are the teams split up?” Young-gi asks, stealing the spotlight.
Everyone turns to stare at him, even me, because he’s impossible not to look at.
He’s in casual wear again today; Nike joggers and a tight spandex shirt that shows every dip of muscle on his torso.
I put a hand to my chin to make sure I’m not drooling.
“Claremont wants to take us all on,” Brian shrugs, but he sounds a little more nervous now. He knows it doesn’t sound like a friendly fight. “It was his idea.”
“Is that true, Tommy?” Kira asks nervously, and I pet her delicate fingers where they’re curled around the rope. I want to comfort her, but I’m not in the right headspace. I’m a hot mess. And this isn’t helping. I wanted a good, clean fight, but I’m becoming a spectacle.
I’m getting antsy with everyone looking at me. Young-gi is walking closer, and I swallow hard. There is too much, too much going on, too much movement and sound. I was already on the edge today, and this is all just making it worse.
I shake my head, then nod, forgetting what she asked me already; the familiar feeling of disassociation makes everything seem far away. Everyone and everything suddenly feels like it’s at a much safer distance, but it leaves me feeling unmoored and anxious.
I take a deep breath, and bite the bullet. “I don’t think I want to fight anymore.”
Kira nods at me encouragingly, but behind me where everyone is staring, there’s a surprised pause, and then Brian laughs, harsh and annoyed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“I’ll be on Tommy’s team.” Young-gi’s proclamation knocks me into another dimension where I don’t know English anymore, because that’s not what he just said, is it?
I blink, uncomprehending, and eventually blurt a belated, “Huh?”
“To make it more fair,” he explains, pulling off his shirt. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on them.”
Holy fucking shit. I should be insisting that I really don’t want to fight anymore, that it was a joke, that I’m tired, that I’m suddenly very ill with something terminal, maybe I should pretend to pass out but goddamn… I can’t even talk. Young-gi shirtless is like… holy shit. He’s so…he’s so… hot.
And suddenly I’m right here. Right back in my body, achingly present and aware of every millimeter of skin and how close everyone is and how crowded I feel and how physical Young-gi’s stare is.
Disassociation can’t stand up to the power of his presence.
It’s like my mind wouldn’t dare look away when he’s this close and this half-naked.
Which leaves me here, achingly aware, overstimulated, and pissed off.
He climbs up and over the ropes casually, joining me as if this is no big deal when, in fact, it’s a very big fucking deal and I’m probably in a coma or something.
I’m still crouched by Kira, in shock. He looks down at me, that dark stare inscrutable, so I turn away, too quick for either of us to get a good look at each other’s eyes.
I know I shouldn’t, but I let my gaze slide down his frame and god damn.
I’m at just the right height to…
My mouth waters, because of fucking course it does. I wanna suck him off so bad.
I stand on my feet quickly, a little dizzy.
Luckily, no one seems to notice my slip up and the way I was eye fucking the uncle of my girlfriend.
Instead of paying attention to me, everyone is listening to him while Young-gi commands the room; making Gregory go get him some gloves, making Leonard set up a timer on the blank analog display that rests on one of the corner posts, making Brian pay attention to a speech about rules and ‘no punches to the face’ bullshit.
But I’m just standing there, speechless.
I look down at Kira for some help, but Lexie is pulling her away while cackling at me wickedly. “Have fun with Mr. Sokolov, Tommy!” she calls, knowing exactly how I feel about Young-gi’s smoking hot body.
Janessa is huddling with two other girls and the guy that’s filming, and I catch her trying to send me some kind of message with her eyes but I’m way too fucking high strung to understand what she wants right now so I just turn my back on her to try and get my head in the game.
The timer is set to three minutes, flashing red and ready to start. Brian grabs the brothers and huddles them in a corner, scowling and looking like he’s about to take this way more fucking seriously than before Young-gi showed up.
Shame. I was looking forward to punching his face while he had that stupid smirk on it. I’ll have to settle for punching his scowl.
A glove taps my shoulder and I tense. Looking at Young-gi only as much as minimally possible to indicate that I’m listening to him, I grunt in acknowledgment. I can’t help it. I’m tongue-tied. He leads me to the opposite corner, and we have a huddle-up just like our opponents are.
“We’re not going for the face,” Young-gi says sternly but quietly, so we aren’t overheard.
That gets my attention and I tense, scowling at the floor.
Yeah, I’d heard him say that to Brian, but I wasn’t going to listen.
He stares at my face, because I’m not looking at him, and he’s just so, just so fucking calm and in charge.
He’s staring at me like he knows he’ll get his way. He’s just waiting me out.
“Fine.” Why do I always end up pouting when he’s around?
“Let me take on two of them, you can have one,” Young-gi instructs. “With your back injured, you’ll need to focus on one opponent. We can’t let anyone get behind you.”
The fuck? Why would he care? It’s a bruise, not a bullet wound.
Whatever. “I want Brian.”
“Brian is mine.” Young-gi’s voice is so placid I almost don’t react to his statement. I almost just nod along before the mental record scratch stops me.
“Wait, why? I want Brian.” See? Pouting! Get that lower lip under control, I tell myself. Get that whiny voice back down to a regular octave.
Again, Young-gi doesn’t bother repeating himself. He just stares at me. I try to stand firm, because I’m really serious about this, but I end up fidgeting and gritting out another too-pouty “fine.”
“You can have the smaller one,” Young-gi allows. “The brunette. It will be easier for you that way–you’re in his weight class.”
Aaaaand that’s about enough of that. I’ve hit my tolerance for taking his high-handedness lying down. He’s ruining the whole fight.
“You know what? Fuck you.”
He clearly wasn’t expecting that, because he actually reacts with a facial expression. He turns more fully to me, like he’s locking onto me, and raises both his eyebrows in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I said fuck you,” I spit out, all my fire and rage still burning, burning.
I was momentarily distracted by his good looks, but all that’s left now is resentment because–because– “Fuck you for all of that. Whatever that conversation was just now, fuck you for it. I’m gonna fight my way. I’m not your bitch.”
“Not a bitch,” Young-gi agreed, crossing his muscular arms. “But clearly a brat.”
I open my mouth to snap back a reply–admittedly, a bratty reply–but Brian calls to us obnoxiously, slamming his gloved fists together like the Hulk. “You guys ready or what? We don’t have all day!”
“Yeah!” The guy filming laughs. “We’ve got the speedboats waiting on the lake. Hurry it up!”
“No one said you have to stay and watch,” Lexie sniffs.
“I’m ready,” I growl, stepping away from Young-gi.
I don’t know him very well, but I’m tuned into him hardcore so I think I can tell that he isn’t exactly pleased with me.
Well, that makes both of us. Seriously, fuck him.
My bruises? What the fuck ever. So what if I’m bruised?
I’m bruised all the time. No one’s gonna take it easy on me, not even myself.
“Finally,” Leonard groans dramatically. He slams his gloved fist on the side of the clock, and it starts a countdown, beeping as Leonard hops on his toes in anticipation.
My three opponents spread out a bit, but Leonard and Gregory are sticking closer together.
Their body language is so obvious–they’re gonna fight together, and team up on Young-gi.
They’re staring at him blatantly, while Brian is smirking at me again, taunting me.
My blood is singing as I finally, finally, get to punch something that feels it. The punching bag was fine, but I want to hit something that hurts… and if that isn’t fucked up, I don’t know what is.
The countdown gets to 3… 2… 1–
Young-gi, with a growl of irritation, like he’s making a choice he doesn’t like but must, suddenly grabs me and yanks me to his side. Like a dancer, he glides behind me, switching places with me as I stumble into his spot. Now, he’s opposite Brian, and I’ve got the brothers.
Our opponents hesitate, and Brian in particular goes pale. He’s been targeted, deliberately sought out by Young-gi, and that scares the shit out of him.
Good.
I can’t stop my smile as I leap forward. The brothers flinch but, to their credit, they aren’t total pushovers. Once they’re over their surprise at the change on their dance card, they jeer at me and fake jab, ducking me with more skill than I anticipated.