by L. G. Kelso
"Or maybe tequila just turns you into an idiot like it does the rest of us," Shane said.
"I'm not an idiot."
"Not normally. But Max wasn't going to try to roll around in the club. I think someone has trust issues," Shane said.
I shot him a dirty look. "Your face has trust issues."
"And I'm apparently the moderator between two drunks," Max mumbled. The tension eased out of his body, and his arm dropped a little more over my shoulders. "Shane, pull back the psychology and, Tori, stop snarling."
I may have still been sticking my tongue out at Shane when we reached the stairwell. The stairs were assholes. I kept tripping. By the second landing, Max kneeled down and told me to jump on his back. I did. "I think I have alcohol poisoning," I said.
"You do," he answered. "That's what being drunk is."
"No, I mean, like, the bad kind." My ankles crossed as my legs tightened around his torso. With one arm looped loosely around his neck, I pressed my forehead into his shoulder. I exhaled through my mouth, trying to get my head to stop spinning. Chills rippled through his muscles, prickling his skin. He hesitated before taking another step. The next two steps felt stiff, and I ran my thumb over the tattoo gracing the bottom of his neck, followed it over his shoulder and onto his collarbone. "You okay? You're…tense."
"I'm fine," he grunted.
I leaned my cheek against his warm shoulder. He grunted again. What was wrong with him?
"You smell so good for just being sweaty and gross," I said, closing my eyes.
He chuckled, and I squeezed my thighs as he walked up the steps, bringing my body tight against his. He grunted again, and that made me squeeze tighter. My arm clung around his neck as he opened the door to his room, and we, followed by Shane, walked in.
Max stopped abruptly. My chest jolted into his back. I opened my eyes.
Shane drew in sharp breath, and froze.
In front of us stood a partially naked girl, clad in dark red and black lingerie.
Oh, God.
The girl's onyx eyes lingered on me.
"Max," she said. I recognized her from the fight. She was one of the ring girls, the one who got the most cheering from the crowd.
Shane and I were so interrupting something. It figures I would mess up a lingerie night that wasn't even my lingerie night.
"Crap, we're totally messing up you getting some, aren't we?" I said.
I tried to slide down, but one of Max's arms tightened under my leg and the other wrapped around behind him and settled under my butt.
I decided I didn't really care about getting down and focused on the crux of the problem. I was now a sex interrupter. Or interrupteree? Something like that.
And, of course, Max had super models waiting in his hotel room. She had the whole exotic and thin thing going on. And she had boobs. Perky boobs. Between the black fishnets and knee-high black boots, her legs went on forever.
Of course, this was the ring girl the guys had been talking about.
"The ring girl is hot," I said, trying to keep my voice down and not bitter. I leaned forward, so my cheekbone grazed the side of his face. His shoulder blades tensed again against my chest, and his eyebrow quirked in my periphery. "I don't mean it like that, because I'm straight, but if I were a guy, I'd totally bang her."
God. Why did tequila make my raised-around-boys vocabulary come out? And why did she have to be pretty? And why did I even give a shit?
I wanted her to have a fit. I wanted the too beautiful girl to be mad that my legs were wrapped around the guy she wanted to bang.
Granted, she probably woke up looking that good, but still.
"Chey, what are you doing here?" Max asked.
"I thought we could spend the night together." She rolled her shoulder, and her head tilted to the side as she did. It was a smooth, small shrug. A sexy shrug. How the hell could she make a shrug sexy? A long, girly coat lay across the bed, but she didn't move toward it. She just stood there, practically naked, like she owned the place.
"Because I won this fight?"
"Oh, Max, don't be an idiot."
Max's grip had somewhat loosened, and I slid my leg through his arm, pushing his other arm away from my ass. My feet touched the ground, and thank God, Shane grabbed my arm before I face-planted.
"Well, I recall that the last fight you were at, I lost, and you didn't want anything to do with me," Max said.
"So what? I recall that you like to get a little crazy after a fight." She walked over to him, one long leg in front of the other. She ran a finger down his chest. "All that tension waiting to get out."
"Let's go to your room, Tori," Shane said.
"No." Max put an arm out in front of us. "I'm not interested, Chey. I already have plans."
Her dark eyes widened, making her perfectly arched eyebrows go up. She moved closer, and put her hand on his neck. "Come on, Max. I'm sorry about last time."
"It has nothing to do with last time, Chey."
She turned toward me, and put her side against Max's chest. "Max likes to have a little fun after his fights, and let me tell you, he's pretty amazing. If you guys wouldn't mind going now."
"I'm not doing this, Chey. Get dressed and leave, please."
Her next move was written all over her face even before she smashed her lips to his. He pulled away, and stepped to the side.
"Cheyenne, this isn't happening. Okay?" Max's easy tone had been replaced by a cold frustration.
"Why? Her?"
Did she mean me? The wall, moving in waves, had garnered my attention at some point. I focused my attention back on Chey, who had one of her hands planted on her hip that jutted out.
"Leave my friend out of it. I just don't want to do this with you anymore, okay? Please, Chey."
Friend.
"Fine. I'll go see what Bennet is up to."
My gaze jerked from her hip to her face.
"Don't do that," I said.
"Do what?"
"Bennet."
"You're obviously drunk. Otherwise, you wouldn't be trying to mark any territory here."
"I'm not marking territory. Jeez. We aren't dogs," I said. "I don't care. You can have him. Bennet. That him. You can have Bennet all you want. But not this one." Oh, God. Did I just point to Max? "Just be careful."
Chey shook her head as if I was stupid, and grabbed her coat. She slipped it on before marching around us and slamming the door behind her.
The AC buzzed, because it was late April in Texas, only worsening the silence in the room.
Texas. It still sounded funny.
"Sorry for just cock-blocking you, Max," I said.
Shane snorted and Max chuckled.
I wasn't sure why that was so funny.
I needed to sit down before the room spun out from underneath me. The beds looked so comfortable.
"Oh, two beds. I thought you two be sharing a bed, for sure." I winked as I made my way to the closest bed.
"One time there was only one bed. I slept on the floor. In the closet," Shane replied.
"That's disgusting. You know what's on the floors in here?" I asked.
"It's better than accidentally cuddling with another man, and definitely better than waking up with another man."
Max shrugged. "I don't know. I would rather wake up looking at your ugly face than sleep on the hotel floor." He directed at Shane.
I plopped onto the bed and studied Max's tense muscles, the unease on his face.
Chey's kiss had done something—there was no way it couldn't—so I hadn't figured out why he had sent her away instead of us.
"Order me pizza, will you, Shane? I haven't had pizza in forever. I'm taking a shower," Max said.
"A cold shower?" I quirked an eyebrow.
Max's mouth gaped open. Pink highlighted his cheeks and ran down his neck. He shook his head before ducking into the bathroom. Shane laughed.
"I'm glad you're one of the guys," Shane said, still laughing. "I don't have to worry abou
t what I say around you."
One of the guys. Usually, that was a good thing. Right now, I wasn't so sure. It made me feel more queasy.
I grabbed a water bottle off the bedside table.
"He's not really the party-after-the-fight kind of guy, is he?" I asked after I had downed most of the water and heard the shower turn on.
"Not really. And I think he's tired. Nicole has been needy lately."
"Nicole. So, are they, like, going out?" I ran my hand over the hotel's comforter, taking my time along the red stitching in the fabric.
"No." Shane walked past me, kicked off his shoes, and settled on the other bed, crossing his legs at the ankle.
"They used to go out?"
"They dated for about six years. Off and on."
"When was there last breakup?"
When Shane didn't answer, I stopped playing with the fabric and looked up. He stared at me, his arms loosely folded over his chest. "Sure, Miss Nonchalant, I'll indulge you."
He sat up, his forearms resting on his thighs, his feet on the floor, and he leaned forward. The thin silver chain around his neck swayed, beaming against his dark skin. "Most recent break-up was about a year ago. It was ugly."
"He's had lots of girlfriends since?"
"No. Just Chey, and that only lasted a few months until he lost a fight."
"Does he still like Nicole?"
"I don't know. He used to love her, but she hurt him. She has issues. She had something bad happen when she was younger, and she always expects Max to make it better. She wants him to fix her. I don't know how he feels anymore. I'm afraid she's trying to suck him back in, though, from the sounds of it."
"Is that why he sent Chey away? Because of Nicole?"
"I don't think so."
"Then why did he just give up that?"
Shane smiled. "Outside of fighting, you have no observation skills."
The water stopped, and a few minutes later, Max emerged in a pair of sweat pants. I tried not to stare as he walked in front of the bed, over to his.
Sweatpants but no shirt. Muscles still pumped up.
Heat blistered under my skin, and I had to sit on my hand so I wouldn't reach out and run it down his abs.
It's the alcohol, Tori.
He plopped onto the bed and looked at us. "What's going on? Did you order food?"
His eyes latched onto mine.
"We were just about to do that," I said, holding his gaze.
I had always thought about girls being used by guys, but rarely had I thought about the opposite. However, as I watched Max, I realized that he was in a position to be used just as much as anyone else.
Having a hot girlfriend until you lose a fight, and then getting dumped.
He wasn't like Will, who tossed around his status to get laid. No, Max Estrada had two girlfriends in the past six years, and they both seemed like wack jobs.
Eventually, Shane started talking about some of the specifics from the fights, and the thought that had been lingering in my head before I spotted Will blazed.
I missed it. I wanted to taste it again. I wanted to walk back into that ring.
I didn't make it back to my room that night. I passed out sometime after eating a ton of tex-mex food. I woke up the next morning, stretched out on one of the beds, with a blanket pulled over me.
Max was asleep on the floor.
Chapter Fifteen
"Get away from my daughter!" The voice boomed through the gym, slicing through the air sharper than Shane's punch had a moment before when it had landed against my head.
For the first time in my life, I hoped I had an instant concussion and the shrill, screaming voice was my brain swelling.
I blocked too late, and Shane didn't take it easy on me, which I was grateful for—until I heard my mother yelling. I pushed the hair out of my face with the back of my arm as I spun around. Definitely not a concussion. Damn.
"Mom? What are you doing here?"
The gym had turned silent¸ with the exception of Shane's loud gulp as he stepped behind me.
"Why are you here, Tori?" My mother stood at the entrance to the dojo, her eyes flitting around my surroundings.
Jeff appeared at her side. His gray T-shirt and black Gi pants contrasting against her magenta blazer and decorative scarf.
"Nancy—" he started.
She turned on him. "What the hell are you doing, Jeff? Bringing her back here?"
I sprinted across the mats, acutely aware of the eyes on my back from my classmates.
"Mom, I'm an adult. Don't drag Jeff into this. Why are you here?"
"Trevor called me. He's worried about you because you missed class. You need to stop this. You can't do this again," she said to me. The teary plead in her eyes didn't match the anger in her tone.
"I hate to break it to you, Mom, but I'm twenty-one. I can do what I want." I couldn't help the surge of guilt my words gave me. I was twenty-one, but I didn't feel like I was adult enough to disregard her. Still, I held her gaze.
"Did you forget?" Her voice rose. "Did you forget what happened last time? Do you want to get hurt again? What if one of them—?"
"Mom!" I snapped, cutting her off. That was the last thing anyone here needed to know. "Don't. All right? Just drop it." I moved closer to her and rested my bulky glove on her shoulder. "It's fine. Just practicing with them. That's it. Not in the cage. Not alone."
She blinked repeatedly and her bottom lip quivered. "I can't do it again. I can't watch you get hurt. And this isn't part of the deal."
"Are you saying you'll stop helping me?"
She didn't reply, and I dropped my hand. Was I going to let this drag me into even more debt? Ruin my relationship with my mother? I wasn't even fighting.
Ache flared through my chest.
I wasn't fighting and I didn't know how to feel about that. I knew how I should feel, but it felt wrong.
My mother whirled on Jeff. "If you let any of these animals hurt my daughter, I will burn this place down." She stepped backward, her eyes running over my classmates and lingering on me for a brief second before she bolted out of the gym.
I stared after her, keeping my back to the mats.
"Come on. Get moving," Jeff called to the students. He rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed as he walked by. "All right, boys let's do some BJJ. You want to join, Tori?"
"No, thanks." I shook my head as he stepped away. Max watched me from the mats.
"Just clear your head for a few then," Jeff answered.
Pulling off my gloves, I plopped down, stretched my legs out in front of me, and watched Max and Shane in the boxing ring. It had been three weeks since Max's fight, and each day felt more and more like struggle at the gym. I couldn't stop thinking about his fight, couldn't stop thinking about Will, couldn't stop thinking about me getting in the ring again.
I unraveled the handwraps from around my wrists and hands and coiled them up. It took a while to roll up 180 cm and it was pointless because they were stinky and I would have to wash them at home, but the motion was therapeutic. More than just a physical act of closure for training, it signaled my brain to be still and contemplate the day.
The class had donned their Gi's, the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu uniform. I watched as Jeff went through a series of shoulder locks.
Training in the gym while the fighters prepared for fights had been great, but it wasn't the same as being the one with the upcoming fight. I coiled my wraps as old fight-training ghosts of emotions surfaced.
Training was the toughest part of the fight in many ways. That was what made a fighter great. But right now, it felt like I only had a piece of the puzzle. Without the fight, how did I know what the training had made me? How did I know if I could face myself when someone else wanted to pound me? I closed my eyes for a while, listening to the leather flex and compress, and to Shane's breaths.
The realization that I still wanted to be a professional face-puncher hit hard. I knew that would never go away, but I hadn't expect
ed it to still hurt so much. It hurt worse than actually getting punched in the face.
However, was it worse than freezing and failing again?
If someone went crazy and I didn't wake up this time, would it be worth it?
Nothing could replicate the sheer, brutal honesty of human biology while fighting. There was only beautiful and terrifying truth in the ring.
Nothing could make me fight myself more than when I was facing off against someone else trying to break me.
"Is she asleep?"
"Tori?" Jeff's voice. "All right. Roll around for a few if you want, but take it easy. I have to meet with the bank. I'll be back soon."
Jeff's feet padded by me, indenting the mat slightly as he walked and tapped me on the shoulder. I opened my eyes.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I stayed up late finishing school work since I was here most of yesterday."
"That's all right. I'll be back. Keep an eye on things."
I nodded and stretched. I must have been asleep for the better part of an hour.
"Oh, man, don't get all cocky on me 'cause she's watching."
Did Shane just say what I thought he did? Maybe the mouthguard had muffled his words.
Max smiled and punched at his face; Shane blocked.
"Thanks, ass," Max replied.
"Like she heard me."
Boys really were stupid.
"Like she didn't hear you. She's right there."
Shane shrugged and did a little hop, rolling his shoulders. "I'm just saying, keep your manliness in check. I know how you get when you see her. It's like instant testosterone. Show off. I know you li—"
Shane's words were cut off by, I swear to God, an actual warrior cry. Something I had never, ever heard in the gym, and doubted I would ever again. A full-on growl followed the cry as Max launched himself on Shane. Shane yelped, yanked to the ground, and Max flipped him over.
"Shut up," Max hissed.
"Someone, sir, has his panties in a twist," Shane prodded.
"I go commando. That way, no twist."
"Ew. Gross man. What if I yank your pants off on accident? Oh, God." Shane struggled against the hold, and after a few grunts from each of them, Max let go. Shane slipped out of the ring.
