by Doyle, Dawn
“Go fuck yourself, lady, because I sure as hell won’t be.”
Red painted fingernails reached out toward my chest, and I flinched back, but even though she’d no longer be able to reach, her hand paused.
“Touch him, and you’ll lose those fingers.”
I spun toward the voice, surprised, and the tension I’d been carrying began to slip until I saw the fury in her green eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” The redhead snapped, her face twisted as she took in Kinsley’s appearance.
Tight, black leggings, a white shirt, and an oversized black hoodie, which I recognized right away. She looked so fucking good in it, I never wanted it back. I had to get another to replace it and fast.
“I’m the girl who can do all that and more,” Kinsley said, pumping her brows, the fire in her eyes not subsiding. “So, if you don’t mind, fuck the hell off away from my man before this place has an entirely different fight to bet on.”
The redhead folded her arms over her small, but pushed up, chest. “You don’t own him—he can decide for himself,” she said, her head moving side to side. “And, sweetie, I can give him a hell of a lot more than you can.”
Kinsley looked pointedly to the woman’s chest. “You mean those bee stings?” She threw her head back and laughed, and people started turning in our direction. “Sweetie,” she said in the fucking scariest calm tone I’d heard come out of a woman’s mouth. “I’ve seen bigger tits on the cover of Men’s Weekly.” Snickers and chuckles came from the people near us. “And that ass? Hell, I’ve seen more curves on a fucking crêpe.” Kinsley turned to me. “But you can decide for yourself, right, Quinn?”
I smiled so wide I couldn’t help flashing her my pointed teeth. “Baby, I only have eyes for you.”
Kinsley stepped into my space, ran her hands over my chest, and up the back of my head, gripping my hair. She pulled me down to her ear.
“What are you doing here?” I asked before she could say anything.
“My pretend boyfriend fucked me, then ghosted me, so I think I have a fucking right to show up, wouldn’t you say so?”
“Kinny,” I sighed, gripping her waist.
“Don’t you fucking Kinny me,” she snapped next to my ear. “I’ve just done you a favor by getting flat-chested Barbie off your case, so when you’re done here, I’ll be waiting so you can fucking explain to me why I feel so cheap,” she growled.
“You what?”
“Don’t play stupid, Quinn. Go do your fighting thing, then come see me, and I swear to God it better be good.”
She turned to leave, but I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. “Kiss me,” I said, not looking away from her.
“You’re joking, right?”
“You just came here, showed everybody I’m yours, and you’re going to leave just like that?”
She glanced around, and when she spotted Miley’s crew, more people from campus, and a few of the professors, she turned back. “I think I should publicly break up with you instead. Give these ladies what they came for.”
“Kinny, don’t,” I snapped. “We can talk about this later, just don’t do that.” When I thought she was going to pull away, she pressed up against me, tracing the clawed scar tattoo on my chest with her fingers, the warmth of her touch making me shiver.
“And now I feel less than cheap.” Her lips slammed against mine, her tongue entering my mouth, tasting me. I reached up to the back of her head, running my fingers through her loose hair. Her words didn’t get past me, and with every nip of her teeth, swipe of her tongue, another knife twisted in my gut.
My intentions had never been to make her feel that way, and I had to fix my major fuck up before it was too late, or I was no better than the bastards who did shit like that on purpose.
Kinsley
I pulled away from Quinn, my lips swollen, and my heart thundering in my chest. I pushed off from his torso and turned away, not wanting him to see my face. I lifted the hood and threw it over my head, the same way I’d managed to get through the crowds undetected, and got the hell out of that barn.
It’d been easier than I thought to find out about the place. One well-timed hint was all it took for Miley to spill.
I sat at the lunch table with Miley, waiting for the perfect time to ask questions. “So, Quinn’s got a fight,” I said, taking a deep breath like the worried girlfriend I was supposed to be. After our night together, I hadn’t heard anything from him, and as the days passed, my temper had reached new heights.
“Yeah. Don’t worry, though, Kinsley, he knows what he’s doing.” She winked at me with a massive grin on her face, the kind that said she knew more than what she was letting on.
Has she slept with him, too?
I brushed off the thought.“He asked me to go and show support,” I lied. “But I don’t think I can do it.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” she asked. “I can be there if you need me.” She took out her phone and began scrolling.
I shook my head. “That would be good, but I think it’d be better if I took my car. That way, if it gets too much, I can leave without spoiling your night.”
“Of course. I’ll meet you there if you want,” she replied, not looking up.
“I don’t know that area, so could I follow you there? I’m worried about getting lost.” I waited for her to answer, to look up from her phone, but she didn’t. She continued scrolling, then typing, then scrolling some more.
“Clover Farm’s easy to find,” she said, turning her head as though looking at a picture. “Just don’t forget your five-hundred bucks to get in.”
Say what? Five-hundred dollars?
“Of course.”
It was then that Miley lifted her head. “But, I guess Quinn would’ve waived your fee, right?”
I shrugged. “He just asked me for support, Miley,” I replied, feigning ignorance in all things ‘Fight Club.’ “If I need to pay, then I will.”
Her eyes narrowed on me for a second, then her expression changed to the usual bubbly girl she always was. “Excellent. You’re gonna love it, I swear. The crowd isn’t mild by any means, so don’t go expecting people sitting nicely on chairs. They stand to the sides, pushing, yelling, screaming, and blood flies everywhere.” My stomach rolled at the thought of Quinn’s blood leaving his body, never mind ending up on somebody. Miley shrugged a shoulder. “You’ll see more than your fair share of girls trying to get into his shorts, too, but don’t let that get to you.” She smiled again, but this time, it didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sure you understand, right?”
I nodded, my brows drawing together while I ran my fingers over the grains on the wooden table. “Of course. It’s only natural for people to want him. I mean, he’s gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want to?”
That hurt me more than I would’ve liked, the thought of other girls trying, and succeeding to get Quinn’s interest. But I had no hold over him, did I? He wasn’t mine, no matter how just being near him made me question my own sanity, how feeling his body heat permeating mine sent glorious prickles to run over me, and the thought of his kiss… The anticipation of tasting his mouth was unbearable whenever he dipped his toward me.
He’s gone and fucked up, though. Did he think I was going to leave things alone after leaving my house? Ha! He had another think coming if he thought I was going to lie down and take it. And I meant that literally.
One quick tap on my maps app, and I was ready to kick some ass.
I heard Josh’s voice as I was about to leave, and I turned around. I couldn’t see through the mass of bodies already screaming obscenities, the words mingling together like one long chant of violence and bloodshed.
“Are you ready?” he yelled, his arms out to the side as he stood higher than everyone else. He caught me watching, the cocky smirk leaving his face when he saw mine. “This is going to get bloody, so if you don’t have a strong stomach, there’s the door!”
When he didn’t look away from me, it was obvious where he
’d aimed his comment. However, Josh didn’t know me—he didn’t know what I could take and what I couldn’t. I’d seen my fair share of blood, and that was the day I saw my father’s body. The seven bullets that had taken him from me were still inside his chest, crimson still dripping down to the floor.
“I’ll be back,” I said to the enormous guy guarding the entrance, the same one who’d taken my money with a smile on his face.
“Once you go out, there’s no getting back in, sweetheart.”
I rounded on him, getting close to his face. “I said I’ll be back, asshole,” I spat. “Quinn’s my boyfriend.”
He threw his head back and laughed at the same time cheers and yelling came from inside. “Yeah, you keep on dreaming, sugar tits.”
I pushed the hood back, revealing my face. “He probably hasn’t mentioned me, but I can assure you, that shit-head in there is my problem.”
Maybe not for long, but right now he is.
He smirked. “What’s your name?”
“Kinsley,” I said, my brows dipping.
His face fell, and he nodded. “You’re the chick Josh told me about. Sure, do what you need to do, I’ll let you back in.”
I patted his beefy chest, the excess weight jiggling as I did. “Thanks, big guy. I won’t be long.”
“I’m Jeremy, by the way.”
I waved a hand in recognition as I walked away.
I needed some air before I faced what was about to happen in the run-down building. If the people in there were anything to go by, it was going to be loud, wild, and probably disturbing.
I bent over, resting my hands on my knees as I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing, counting for a whole minute. My heart hadn’t slowed, so I repeated it until I’d stopped shaking.
I walked by Jeremy as he opened the door, telling myself everything would be okay. What greeted me as I worked my way through curled the bile in the depths of my stomach.
Quinn was on the ground, another guy bigger than him on top of him, throwing punches. I sucked in a breath as I shoved myself through the people clambering to get a better view, their bodies crashing into mine, knocking me about.
“Fuck!” I called out when a foot got in my way. I dropped down to the floor, landing on solid ground, rough, loose, and grating over my knees as I skidded. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
I struggled to stand, arms knocking me back down and feet tangling with mine, making it near impossible for me to get up without falling. Dirt was kicked up around me, and when I breathed in, dust entered my lungs, the pain of foreign objects scratching from the inside.
“Move!” I screamed, coughing again, trying to clear my throat. “Out of my fucking way!”
I couldn’t get past, but then I spotted a small gap and took it, pushing my arms through and parting the spectators, forcing my way between them.
“Watch it,” a guy’s voice boomed out.
“Get off my dress,” a woman’s voice spat.
“Move the fuck over!” I yelled, shoving them again, digging my elbows into the backs of their knees, using a technique my dad had shown me years before.
The guy dropped, and the woman fell into the person next to her, their voices rising higher, but they were nothing compared to the roar that overtook everything else, deafening me for a few seconds, making me cover my ears with the onslaught of people screaming bloody murder.
And that’s what it sounded like.
I made it to the back, against old bricks that were thick with cobwebs and crumbling mortar, years of decay taking its toll on the old structure. I pressed my hands against the wall and felt my way back to where I’d run into the woman hitting on Quinn.
“Josh!” I yelled when I saw the back of him standing on a large wooden crate. “Josh!”
He turned, then jumped down, people making way for him as he hurried to me. “What the hell, Kinsley, are you fucking insane?” His eyes roamed my face, then down to my hands. “What happened?”
“These people are fucking crazy, that’s what happened,” I replied, standing on my tiptoes to see over the crowd. Still, I couldn’t see a thing over the waving arms and gesticulating fists, like a sick, twisted game of charades, mimicking the movements they wanted to see.
“You shouldn’t be here, Kinsley,” he said close to my ear and gripping my arm. “You don’t want to see Quinn like this.”
“Like what?” I barked out. “Like himself?” I snatched my arm back.
“Kinsley, he won’t like it. He won’t be happy you stayed.”
I smiled slyly. “Then it’s a good job I don’t give a fuck, then, isn’t it?”
I tried to peer through the vast crowd filling the entire barn. I made out a fist flying, an arm lifting, and sounds of flesh hitting flesh with vicious determination designed to maim. My instinct was to run in that direction, to put a stop to the fight, to make sure Quinn wasn’t getting hurt, and I used every last ounce of strength I had to stay. This was his thing, and I wouldn’t change that.
Seeing an opportunity, I made a dash to where Josh had come through, and jumped up onto his box. My hand flew over my mouth when I saw the worst fight in my entire life. Blood was covering the floor, the white, painted circle on the ground resembling polka dots than a solid shape. The opponent’s face was puffed up, red oozing from his head, his mouth, and ran down the expanse of his chest to the waist of his long, red shorts.
Quinn circled him, and my vision blurred. There, covering his chest, was a thick stripe that looked like he’d been slashed. From where I was standing, I couldn’t tell.
His shoulders were rounded, his guard was up, and his head was low. He eyed the guy in front of him, fixed on him, keeping him in his sight regardless of his name being screamed from all directions. His focus was commendable, never faltering, until he moved around, his eyes flicking to me.
His opponent saw, and it took less than a second for him to react. His wide arm raised, his elbow pulled back, then his wrapped knuckles flew towards Quinn’s face with speed.
I gasped when it connected with his jaw, sending him flying to the side, the sound of the impact bringing vomit to my throat.
“Quinn,” I whispered while I watched in horror as the other guy slammed down again, and again until Quinn hit the ground with a dull thud.
Once again, Quinn was on the floor, the guy throwing punches like it was a party game. Quinn’s arms were up, covering his face, and his knees were bent, his feet off the floor.
The faces in the room were wild, but there was no sound coming out of their mouths. Their savage expressions, contorted features twisted with a thirst for blood—no matter who it belonged to—slowing down. Their movements seemed lazy, arms waving about, fists punching the air, saliva spraying from hollered instructions to do as much damage as possible.
Deathly silence permeated the air except for a faint buzzing as I swayed side to side. The people around me continued to demand more, and when I found familiar eyes in the crowd watching me, I stopped.
Phoebe was motionless, watching me, her mouth closed except for the hint of a curl in the corners of her lips. Miley stood next to her, a feral look in her usual kind eyes, her mouth twisted into a snarl as she yelled with words I’d never heard come out of her mouth.
I turned back to the fight, the scene hadn’t changed, and only a few seconds had gone by, but it felt like minutes.
Quinn.
The other guy was hitting against Quinn’s arms, his fists not connecting where he wanted them to, and even from the distance I was, I could see his increasing frustration.
Then Quinn took a swing, a perfect liver shot, making the guy lean to the side, his own swings faltering. Quinn’s fist connected over and over again into the guy’s side. His movements were so fast that his punches melded together, one prolonged assault, hitting his target each time until the guy hollered.
My palms stung, my nails digging in further with the added pressure every time I saw a hand lift, a fist connect, crimson spraying from o
pen wounds. My lungs constricted as I stared, willing Quinn to get up off the ground, to stop that guy from hitting him.
I sucked in a sharp breath when he made his move.
Quinn twisted to the left, and with his right arm, he hooked it around the back of the guy’s neck, pushing him down, then drove his elbow to the back of his skull. His opponent didn’t even see it coming. He dropped to the side, and Quinn rolled him off.
The spectators’ volume reached new heights as Quinn jumped from the ground and landed on his feet. The other guy moved slowly, the knock seemed to disorientate him, and he tried to get up, but Quinn, like lightning, struck him under the chin, his shoulder muscles bunching, his biceps flexed, and his back tense as he sent a jaw-shattering punch upward.
Before the other man could react, Quinn spun around, his right leg coming up, his knee bent, his heel back, and with such precision, he snapped out, extending the joint, and sent a kick to the side of the guy’s face.
The guy spun around, a full pirouette style, his eyes open but not seeing, and crashed to the ground with a gigantic thud.
My shoulders sagged as I finally released the clogged air choking me, and the hot stream made its way down my face.
Quinn raised his arms, then brought them down, muscles standing proud with every fiber defined. His mouth open wide, revealing a black mouthguard as he roared, the animal inside showing himself at last.
He turned to me, his face stern, streaks of red gliding down his face and dripping off of his chin. His chest was covered, a mixture of the two fighters’ vital fluid, with smears of dust and dirt making it congeal.
I jumped down from the box and fought my way out to the front to the sounds of applause and gleeful triumph, pushing past Jeremy, and out into the cold night air, sucking in huge lungfuls of fresh oxygen.
“Kinny!” Quinn’s voice carried over the short distance between myself and the barn. “Kinny, wait!” he yelled, but I didn’t slow. “Will you just fucking stop?”
I continued on until I neared the cars, giving some space between the people who could overhear and me. I turned around. “Okay, I’m listening,” I said, folding my arms. “I’m ready to hear your excuse.”
