Chapter 19
It’s been two days since I’ve heard anything from Carter. Two long days of classes, dorm life, and getting used to being Oliver.
Oliver Davenport.
It's weird to say the name aloud. I'm a fraud. Undercover. Deceiving everyone around me.
But the more I’m in this skin, the easier it gets to convince myself and the world I'm a man named Oliver. In the silence of my dorm room, I slightly relax under the thick covers of my bed, hiding myself from my roommates. It's the only sliver of space I can unwind and become Olivia again.
Thankfully, Dane hasn’t slept over again.
Instead, he spends all his time with a tall brunette–usually attached to her lips.
They’re all over campus together, giggling.
Hell, I think I saw him actually smile once.
Thank God. You know, the last thing I ever want to see is Dane’s gross morning wood again.
Do dicks just pop up to remind you they're there every morning? Ugh.
It works for me, though.
He’s the ideal roommate because he’s never here. He can't discover my secret if he's not here to witness it. It gives me slight relief. If I don't have time to unwind and relax in my own skin, I might go stir crazy.
But I still have to be careful. Dane could barge through the door at any given time. Like Simon does without thought. Thankfully, I've been fully clothed both times.
What I wouldn't do for a lock on the door.
“I can’t believe Mack and Wilder are actually fighting!” Simon laughs. “You know they’ve never done this before, right? This fight is going to be epic! Have you seen the SlamApp?” He shoves it in my face as we walk through campus in the dead of night.
“Let me see that,” Jordy quips, plucking it from Simon’s grip.
Oh, yeah. Jordy came for a visit.
“But I’m bored, Liv. Please let me come hang out with you.” AKA he wants to fuck my roommate. He doesn’t have the decency to give me earplugs, either. Asshole.
“So, they’re brothers?” Jordy asks, raising a brow as he looks through the SlamApp. It’s been buzzing with the news of these two fighters for days now. Someone even recorded their bickering on Wednesday and posted it the moment class let out.
Speaking of, since I met Wilder after class, we’ve texted a few times. Nothing serious. But it’s nice to keep tabs on him. He’s not too bad, either. He’s invited me to his gym to spar or work out, which eventually, I’ll take him up on the offer.
“Yup! And they’ve never fought before.” Simon snatches his phone back with a saucy smile.
“So, these fights. They happen often?” Jordy asks.
“Only once or twice a month. They’re the highlight of this establishment. But very hush, hush,” Simon says, putting a finger to his lips.
“I don’t call announcing it on an app hush, hush,” I quip with a snort.
Simon snorts. “Well, call it whatever you like. The school doesn’t break it up. In fact, I think they profit off it.”
“So, the app isn’t made by the school?” Jordy asks, cocking his head.
Simon shrugs. “Nope. It just showed up when I was a freshy and spread like wildfire. It’s almost a rite of passage to get it when you come here. Really informative, too.” He wiggles his brows a little, flipping through the pictures of the fighters and holding them up for Jordy to see.
“Very interesting,” Jordy hums, side-eyeing me with a smirk.
“But there are rules to this fight night,” Simon says, stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Rules?” I ask. “You didn’t mention any sort of rules when we got ready.” No. Simon was too enthralled with Jordy when he suddenly showed up at our dorm room door and burst in with a grin. They’ve been enamored with one another since the moment they set eyes on each other. So, no rules were given.
Simon sighs. “I guess I should have warned you guys from the get-go. The rules are simple. No fighting unless you’re in the ring.
” He cringes slightly, running a hand through his hair.
“You can only fight once a night. And if you show up to the ring to watch, there’s a possibility you can be called out to fight. ”
I blink several times. “Called out to fight? So anyone can…”
“Walk up to the organizers, say your name, and you have to fight? Oh, yup! Exactly. But you don’t have to worry, it’s so rare for that to happen.” He waves a hand.
“Is there a punishment for if you refuse?” Jordy asks.
Simon cringes again, taking a step in toward our destination. “Oh, nothing too bad. Just the wall of shame. Shunning from your classmates for an entire month where they can throw tomatoes at you or whatever tickles their pickles. And um, no parties allowed.”
“Cool. So public enemy number one,” I say, raising a brow.
“But don’t worry, Oli!” he says, tossing an arm over my shoulders. “You haven’t made enemies here. Wait, have you?” He stops dead and looks me in the eyes.
“No. Not yet.” Unless you count Mack and his threat in class. Or when Mack and Brutus waited for me after class to taunt me more, but I don’t divulge that information to Simon. The only person in our circle who knows is Jordy, who is holding back a laugh at my expense.
“Doesn’t matter. If Oli gets called out, he can take anyone.” Jordy shrugs, pushing us along until we’re following a small crowd of students.
“Oh, you’re a fighter?” Simon asks.
A fighter? I can take down a grown man with two fingers to his pulse point. But I don’t say that. It was all in my training. Jordy knows it. I know it. Hell, Veritas knows it, too. I’ve just never had to use it on a job before. And hopefully, I never will.
“I’ve trained for a few years.” I don’t elaborate any more than that. No one needs to know what I’m truly capable of. Even Simon.
“Don’t downplay it, bro,” Jordy smirks, pushing my shoulder. “He can take down anyone without trying. Even the biggest motherfucker on campus.”
I side-eye him. I’m supposed to keep a low profile while I’m at Greenwood. I need to observe, blend in, and get to know people.
“Shut up,” I grumble, slightly blushing at his compliment.
I worked hard after what happened to regain my strength.
I felt so weak. So fucking pressed down.
I never wanted another man to overpower me again and end my life.
So, I took it all back through hand-to-hand combat, MMA, and boxing.
Jordy helped me out a lot, taking me to the ring and showing me how to air out my frustrations.
So, if I ever end up in a bad situation, I’ll know how to handle myself. Well, if they stab or shoot me, then I might be fucked. But I’ve learned how to disarm someone, too. It’s all in my training.
“That’s good to know!” Simon claps excitedly. “Because you don’t want to be on the wall of shame.”
I snort, following him and Jordy the rest of the way to the Coliseum. Up the hill, on a paved path made through the woods, straight to the massive structure we found so long ago.
I crane my neck, looking up into the night sky at the large piece of building. It’s changed since I was last here. It’s been repaired. To an extent, anyway. It still gives the same vibes from the day we found it lost in the woods with the ocean only a hundred feet away.
“You coming?” Jordy asks, nodding his head toward the short line waiting to get in.
I nod in response. Something stirs in my gut. Possibly a warning. Or maybe it’s the memories this conjures. How could they take something we found and turn it into something so violent and bloody?
“I’ll get us some drinks!” Jordy shouts over the noise of the crowd and loud music, nodding toward the bar at the far end of the round dirt floor.
Fuck.
I take it all in. The familiar–yet–different surroundings. I’m almost frozen in the midst of my peers as they converge around the bar and the fighting ring.
Every object has the capability to hold memories. Good ones. Bad ones. Neutral ones. They’re deeply embedded within them. Even walls. Or buildings. Or old T-shirts that still hold the remnants of their scent.
The Coliseum possesses the echoes of our past. It clings to every crack in the facade. Every leftover footprint in the dirt.
It once belonged to us.
Ghosts of our past remain suspended here. Our childhood playground. A place we escaped to, running far away from the troubles back in Greenwood.
Our parents. Our duties.
Our fucked-up lives.
These walls hold more than memories. They hold pieces of us in every damn corner. Like fingerprints left behind. Faint. But they’re on every surface we touched and explored.
My eyes flick to the large bar stacked with booze, fairy lights, and bar stools. Several bartenders work behind the space, taking orders, and pouring beers from the tap.
The memories come alive, flashing like a gritty movie before my eyes.
In the spot where the bar sits is where JJ finally got the nerve to seal his lips over mine. It was tentative and quick. Shy, even. But he did it, and I reciprocated. Of course.
The crush I had on all my best friends was magnetic, pulling me in three different directions. They each held a piece of my heart in their palms, offering me many forms of love.
I never acted on impulses, though. Fearing I’d ruin everything we had. We were best friends. Doing everything together. We lived and breathed for one another.
I suck in a breath, grounding myself in the chatter of the crowd. People move in so many directions. Toward the bar. Toward the fighting ring sitting in the middle of the large space, with a crowd chanting before it.
It was once the spot where we all decided that our relationship was special. Something unorthodox in the eyes of everyone in town. But ours, nonetheless. I couldn’t choose between the three of them. They didn’t want me to. So, we came together as one.
My soulmates.
Or so it seemed at seventeen.
Too bad we fell apart as one, too.
They were mine and I was theirs. Temporarily. Our bliss lasted a short while. A moment in time that should have extended longer—possibly forever—but was cut short by the cruel end of a knife and a roaring fire.