11. Serafina
CHAPTER 11
Serafina
T he clang of a spoon against porcelain pulls me back. I blink, finding Nora's blue eyes fixed on me, a frown creasing her forehead. Last night's memories hang heavy, like chains around my neck.
"So tell me, what scared you off last night?" she asks, stirring her coffee with more vigor than necessary.
"Nothing at all. Long day yesterday, that’s all," I mutter, watching the cream swirl into dark oblivion. The half-truth scratches at my insides.
Nora's gaze doesn't waver. She knows when I'm not giving it all up. But, bless her, she doesn't push. Instead, she leans back, her chair groaning under the shift. She'll never truly know just how much I appreciate our budding friendship.
"Lucas is fighting tonight." Her voice is casual, but her eyes are sharp, searching.
I slowly sip my coffee, the heat unfurling in my chest as I eye Nora across the table. My mind can't help but drift to Lucas. The thought of watching him fight —his intense gaze, the way his muscular build flexes every time he throws a punch - it sends a warmth to my core that is becoming harder to ignore as each day passes.
"Why does he keep fighting?" I ask, setting down my cup with a clatter that's too loud for the quiet café. "Isn't the gym doing well?"
Nora chuckles softly, tracing the rim of her mug with beautifully manicured fingernails painted a gorgeous matte black. "Lucas is more than just biceps and a mean uppercut, Sera. Fighting—it's been our way out."
"Out of what?" I lean in, intrigued despite my reservations.
"Poverty," she says, her voice dropping to a hush. "We grew up on a diet of dreams and canned beans. While I buried my nose in books, Lucas... he was tempted by the fast cars and gaudy mansions that the narco cowboys flaunt as soon they make it big. And before his mom died, he promised he would never get involved in that life. So he chose boxing instead. Every cent he earns from those fights now, they go into a fund."
"Fund?"
"For the kids." Her eyes soften. "He wants to open more gyms, give kids from the neighborhood we came from a fighting chance. Has he told you about his visits to schools?"
"Nope," I quip as I grab a napkin and dab at my mouth, unable to hide my intrigue.
"When he's not training or fighting, he's giving free classes at schools, showing the little ones how to throw punches instead of joining gangs."
"Is that so?" My heart swells, picturing Lucas surrounded by a sea of eager faces, their little fists in the air. I've always known there was more to him than the gruff exterior and smoldering looks. This revelation tugs at something deep within me, a yearning to see beyond the shadows of my own upbringing. An eagerness to let him see the real me. A desire to truly open up to him.
But that eagerness is mixed with guilt. If I allow myself to have what I desire the most, him, it will mean breaking his promise to his mother. How can I live with that?
"Yes, and those field trips to the gym—he's like a superhero to those kids, without the cape."
"Wow..." I murmur, warmth blooming in my chest. I picture him, sweat-slicked and laughing with the kids, his protectiveness a tangible force. How could I not have seen this side of him before? How could I not fall completely for him now?
"I told you," Nora says, a note of pride in her voice. "He's a good man, Sera." Her words hold extra weight for me. She’s known Lucas a long time, and she’s been there for all the good, all the bad. From when he lost his mother, to when he opened up his gym.
I can't help but feel a little envious of their close bond. The urge to know him like she does overwhelms me. And I know there's only one way to quench that thirst.
"He really is," I nod, picturing a future where we're as close as he is with her. Closer, even.
And don't get me started on how incredibly attracted I am to him. My fingers tingle at the thought of running them along his inked skin and feeling the rush of his heartbeat under my touch. We're so close to crossing that line, and as I learn more about him, it's only getting harder to not cross it.
"Those kids... they look up to him, huh?"
"Like you wouldn't believe." Nora's smile is infectious, and I can't help but catch it. "Come watch? You can finally meet Raul."
"I think I can make time," I wink at my friend, feeling giddy with anticipation. Tonight, I'll watch him in the ring - not just as my coach or the man who sets my heart racing, but as a shining light in a world that can be so damn bleak.
"Looks like you'll be cheering a little harder tonight?" Nora teases, knowing full well the effect her words have had.
"Maybe." I try for nonchalant, but the flutter in my stomach belies my calm facade. Lucas Enriquez, you are so much more than I bargained for.
I hand the keys to my car over to the valet and walk toward the entrance of the building where Lucas will be fighting tonight.
Nora
Are you close?
Serafina
Out front. Be there in a few.
Nora
Keeping your seat warm.
I weave my way through the throngs of people, determined to reach the front row where Nora is seated. As I near the front row, I catch a glimpse of her sitting next to a man with dark hair slicked back who I assume is her husband, but my attention is quickly drawn to the ring. My heart races with excitement as I realize that I am about to witness Lucas fight - really fight - for the first time.
"You're here!" Nora jumps up and gives me a hug.
"The famous Serafina," the man next to Nora extends his hand to greet me, and I'm such a nervous wreck that I find myself at a loss for words. "Pleasure to finally meet you."
"Likewise," I finally manage to utter a response, giving Raul's hand a strong shake. He's nothing like I expected. Raul's green eyes pop against his brown leather jacket. He’s paired the jacket with a simple white t-shirt and bootcut jeans - totally exuding a cool cowboy vibe. On the other hand, Nora rocks a black silk dress and chucks combo, topped off with an expensive-looking leather jacket. At first glance, they don't seem to fit, but that assumption goes out the door the moment I see how he looks at her - like she's the center of his world.
Raul pulls Nora into a side hug and plants a sweet kiss on her forehead, waking a craving for that type of connection. Loving, protective, pure.
If I'm lucky, maybe I'll have that one day, too.
"Is this your first fight, Serafina?" Raul's voice pulls me back, his knowing grin comforting among the crowd.
"Yes," I admit, my fingers drumming a staccato on my thigh.
"You'll love it; our boy is gonna do great," Nora says, gently tapping my shouldersbefore she signals for me to take a seat.
Gloves kiss leather, a dance of jabs and hooks. Lucas moves like a shadow dodging sunlight, swift and sure. His opponent—a mountain of a man with fists like sledgehammers—swings wide, but Lucas, he's poetry in motion.
"?ándale, Lucas! ?Muéstrale!" someone in the crowd yells, their voice riding the wave of support and encouragement directed towards Lucas. Thanks to my Latin tongue, I can understand most of what they’re saying around me. Come on, Lucas, show him , they say.
I'm biting my lip, tasting copper, as if I could stem this river of worry with just my teeth. My eyes trace every line of Lucas' form, the flex and release of muscles honed by a lifetime of fighting more than just opponents in a ring.
"Oh god, I can't look," I mutter under my breath as Lucas takes a hit, a solid connection that sends a ripple through the crowd. But he's up again, unyielding and resilient.
He pivots, his body coiled like a spring - muscles glistening with sweat - tense and ready to unleash its fury. With a guttural growl, he hurls a wild left hook that cuts through the air like a hot knife through butter. The punch lands with a deafening thunderclap, causing the very ground to shake as the mountain before him crumbles in slow motion, an unstoppable avalanche of power and rage.
"Oof," Nora exhales beside me, her hand gripping mine in a vise of shared tension.
"Vai, vai!" I cheer, my Italian roots showing, blending with the Spanish around us in a symphony of cultures united by the thrill of the fight.
As his opponent stands back up, Lucas stalks his opponent like a hungry lion, his eyes burning with determination. With a sudden feint, Lucas unleashes a ferocious combination of blows, the sound of each punch echoing like rapid gunfire - rat-a-tat-tat. The force behind his strikes is relentless, unrelenting, fueled by a heart that refuses to give up. His adversary staggers, their defenses crumbling like dry clay under the weight of Lucas's onslaught.
"Finish him, brother," Raul murmurs, conviction lacing his words.
And Lucas does. A final uppercut, an exclamation point at the end of a hard-fought sentence.
The bell dings, the sweet sound of triumph.
The crowd erupts, a volcano of joy and relief. His glove goes up, a salute to the battle waged and won, and our eyes lock.
Time stills. His look is a caress, a promise, a future whispered in a glance.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Everything fades—the noise, the people, the world—until there's only Lucas. His grey eyes hold stories, secrets, and a longing mirrored in my green depths.
"Damn," I breathe out, the word a surrender flag white against the backdrop of my inner turmoil.
"Girl, you're done for," Nora says, her voice tinged with knowing.
"Completely," I agree, because at this moment, as Lucas' stare anchors me in a sea of emotions, I am lost—and found—all at once.
The clamor of the arena fades to a murmur as Nora leans in, badge glinting in her hand. "Take this," she says, pushing it into my palm. "Go see him."
"Are you sure?" My voice is hesitant, but my heart thunders yes.
"Yes, go," she urges with a wink. "And don't just say 'good job.'"
I pocket the badge and navigate through the crowd, each step an echo of my racing pulse. The locker room door looms, VIP access a gateway to something more than congratulations.
My hand trembles as I push against the heavy door, my heart racing so loudly in my chest that it feels like the whole world can hear my presence.
Inside, the air is thick with the scent of sweat and victory. Lucas stands tall and proud in his team's center, his dark hair glistening with perspiration and his eyes shining with the thrill of victory. He turns—and there's that magnetic pull.
"Lucas..."
With the grace and power of a warrior, he strides over to me, his once unbreakable facade now showing vulnerability. Before either of us utters another word, he wraps his arms around me. Suddenly, I am lifted off my feet, the world spinning around us as his lips find mine in our first kiss - a passionate, forget the world around you, nothing else matters kind of kiss.
"I can't believe you're really here," he breathes between kisses.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I reply, my body aching for his touch.