Rising (Vincent and Eve Book 1)

by Jessica Ruben

  I turn my head left and right, my stomach cramping; I’m in the front row. There is no way I can move as the crowd is totally closed in behind me. I see people across the circle with their hands up, fists pumping in the air. They’re waiting for blood, and from the looks of these two fighters, the blood will definitely be flowing.

  I turn to Janelle, grabbing her shoulders. “We’re too close to the front!” I yell, staring up into her eyes. I’m willing her to snap out of her drug-induced trance. Unfortunately for me, her eyes have already dilated. She leans down and puts her sweaty forehead on mine, her smile so big I think it might split her face.

  She throws an arm around my neck. “Don’t worry baby girl, this will be amazing! God, I love you so much!” She squeezes me close to her. Letting me go, she takes a huge gulp of water from a plastic bottle and continues shouting along with the crowd. I try to stand on my tip-toes to get a better look at my surroundings. Is there an empty space I can run through?

  Unfortunately, the entire circle is shut tight with bodies. When I realize there’s no way out, I close my eyes and count down from twenty. Before I open them, I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to find a modicum of calm. I’m going to be okay. When I open my eyes, I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. Right across from me is the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  He’s a head above the rest, black hair that’s longer at the top and shorter at the sides; it’s a little wild, but incredibly sexy. I have never seen anyone who looks quite like him. The entire fight scene ahead of me seems to come to a standstill as I study him, the breath catching in my throat. I hear screaming all around me, but it may as well be on mute.

  I watch as he pushes his hair back and casually throws an arm around a redhead. She’s tall and thin, with wide blue eyes and thick auburn hair, mirroring a model in a Neutrogena skin commercial. Laughing at something he says, it’s clear she fits the mold of an all-American beauty.

  Turning back to him, I take in every single move he makes. Holy shit, he’s gorgeous. I hear Janelle cheering wildly next to me, but the shrill sound barely registers.

  He has something I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it’s the slight slant in his eyes or his razor-cut cheekbones and chiseled square jaw. It’s just a trace of something unique, and it doesn’t make him look kind. In fact, his face and entire demeanor is absolutely feral.

  He whispers something into the girl’s ear. I wonder what he’s telling her. She bites her lower lip as she listens to him, and in that moment, I wish it were me in her spot. For the first time in my life, I’m practically vibrating with awareness over a man. Just then, he decides to raise his head. He glances around, seemingly looking for someone. His eyes immediately pause at mine, catching my stare. I’ve been caught! My heart stutters; I’m a deer in headlights as embarrassment runs through me.

  Strangely, he isn’t staring at me like a weirdo. Instead, his eyes seem to see straight into my soul; it’s unnerving, but in some unexpected way, feels right. I open my eyes a little wider, feeling my lips part. He squints as a smile spreads across his full lips, settling into his eyes. I can’t help the flush rising through my body.

  We continue to watch each other, and it feels as if energy is passing between us. He pushes his hair back again, and I see the wide expanse of his chest. I try not to swoon from the visual. I see boys all the time, but none of them make me feel like this. Who am I kidding? None of them are as hot as this man in front of me. I see him chuckle as he notices my eyes widening; is he laughing at me? Of course he is. He knows how good-looking he is and what he’s doing.

  Then, I do what any girl would do in my situation. I turn behind me to make sure that he isn’t actually having a conversation with someone else. But when I turn back to him, I see his head is thrown backward as if he’s laughing out loud. I feel like an utter dork when he waves back at me and mouths the word, “Hello.” Just watching his lips move is enough to make my pulse erratic. I’m embarrassed, but burning up from our wordless banter.

  Surprising myself, I give him the finger with a smile—because, well, the asshole is laughing at me! The physical distance between us, combined with the fact that he is a stranger, makes me brave. I mean, he doesn’t know me from a hole in the wall. Chances are, after this weird little flirting thing we’ve got going on, I won’t be seeing him again. I may as well enjoy this moment. He raises his eyebrows as if me giving him the finger is cute. I watch as his eyes squint and lips turn up, transforming his face into something breathtaking.

  I take my hair out of the clip and shake it loose with my fingertips, giving myself a break from our eye contact while attempting to channel sexy. When I glance back up at him, his eyes widen. Now it’s my turn to smile. He likes what he sees, and it both scares and thrills me.

  Another blast of the foghorn, signaling the end of the fight. I flinch from the sound, immediately brought back into the center of the ring. “The Ripper wins with one hundred thirty strikes!” the announcer yells into the crowd, while some people cheer and others boo.

  The announcer continues, his loud voice ratcheting up even higher. “I think it’s time to bring out our main attraction here tonight. This guy coming is one crazy motherfucker. I’m beginning to ask myself if there is anyone out there who can beat him. There’s some talk that the UFC has been asking the same thing. But who knows, maybe the Ripper will finally take him down, what do you all think?” His face flashes crimson from the exertion of his yelling. “Are you all ready for… the Bull?” He’s chuckling like a devil, and the crowd is eating it up.

  People jump up and down. “Holy shit,” I say out loud, the mob turning into a mosh pit. They chant: “Bull…Bull…Bull.” I turn to my sister in confusion as the music changes from gangster rap to heavy metal. Janelle bounces on her toes with excitement. Leo yells with what looks like a combination of bloodlust and eagerness, while the entire crowd shrieks. I don’t know what’s going on, but I find myself waiting with nervous tension as to what’s to come. Whoever he is, he’s obviously a big deal.

  I turn my head up to search for the guy I’ve been staring at only to realize that he is no longer in his spot. I scan the circle, frustrated that he disappeared. My eyes leap from face to face, the sounds of the crowd fading into the back of my mind when I see a large figure sauntering in the center of the ring. My eyes immediately expand—it’s him. I can’t take my eyes off him as he strips off his shirt, and apparently, neither can anyone else. His body is perfectly cut. He’s huge, with rippling abs and thick, muscular arms. My insides liquefy.

  He stands in the center of the ring, jumping up and down to get his blood flowing. The Ripper rolls his beefed-up shoulders, stretching out his thick neck from side to side. They appear evenly matched in height, both well over six feet. The Ripper looks as if he juices for breakfast. All of the signs of steroid use are obvious; his traps are gigantic and covered with severe acne. Meanwhile, the Bull smirks with confidence, shuffling his feet. I let myself ogle his physique. A perfectly cut V of muscle leads down into his shorts. My mouth runs dry, imagining what must be below. I flush as dirty thoughts of him race through my head.

  People continue to yell as the fight begins, but my eyes are glued to the Bull in the center of the ring.

  The Ripper lifts his leg in the air for a kick, but the Bull steps back easily, dodging any connection and getting the crowd crazed. He’s barely breaking a sweat while the Ripper pants. The Bull is playing a game for the crowd, dancing around the circle with a cocky smile while the Ripper tries over and over again to make contact. The Bull’s movements are so agile, almost logic-defying for a man so huge. The Ripper looks at the Bull with fury, bearing his teeth like a rabid animal. Finally, the Bull gives the crowd what they’re begging for as he steps closer to his opponent, throwing punches into the Ripper’s face. I wince, watching blood stream from the Ripper’s nose down into his mouth. The Bull steps back and turns his body in a different stance while the Ripper shakes his head back in
to reality. Just as he seemingly wakes up, the Bull throws a wide kick directly into the Ripper’s face, the force bringing his enormous body down to the ground. The crowd lets out a collective “ooohhhh” as the Ripper drops like a dead weight.

  Before the Ripper can even try to stand, the Bull drops down and straddles him. He’s slamming his fists into the Ripper’s face like a beast, going at him like a man in it for the kill. The Ripper is trying to claw himself free, thrashing his arms and legs in wild directions, but the Bull has him secured in some sort of technical-looking hold. There’s no way the Ripper is getting out of this.

  I hear an animalistic grunt and silence ensues as the Bull stops his movements. Sweat pours down his face as he pants, rising up. People are waiting impatiently, peering into the circle. Will the Ripper stand? The music continues to blare and all eyes are focused on the floor, where the Ripper, now bloody, turns to his side and groans. When it’s clear he isn’t able to get up on his own, the crowd starts screaming again. The announcer grabs the Bull’s hand, raising it up in the air as a dark and threatening smile spreads across the Bull’s face.

  Beads of perspiration roll down the Bull’s chest, and I swallow hard, cataloging it as one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Some friends of the Ripper come into the ring’s center, lifting him up and dragging him off to the side. Turning my gaze back to the Bull, I find him staring straight at me. After what I just saw, I should be running for the hills. Instead, I give him a megawatt smile that I couldn’t stop even if I tried. Suddenly, the crowd swallows him, and just like that, he’s gone.

  I turn to my sister with a happiness on my face that rivals her drug-induced glee. People are dispersing, frenzied hands exchanging money. I feel a wave of nervousness that I’ve lost him. My eyes scan the area, but at five-foot-one, it’s impossible for me to get a good view of anything other than people’s chests. An irrational panic hits me as I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. I grab Janelle’s hand like a lifeline, wanting her to tell me about this guy. “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Oh my God. I mean—look at him. Have you ever seen someone so fuck-hot? He’s dangerous as hell, which adds to the hot factor by like, ten billion. He’s super shady though. No one knows his real name.” All I can do is shake my head in wonder. Because the truth is, never in my life have I seen a man who affected me like that. And it isn’t merely the fact that he’s so physically striking. It’s more. At least, it felt like more.

  Before Janelle can start talking, the crowd shifts toward the bar, sweeping us into its clutches. Leo possessively drapes an arm around Janelle. It’s clear from the smile on his face that he’s thrilled to have made some cash tonight. Janelle says hi to random people as we pass; I shouldn’t be surprised she’s a regular in this scene. I know she keeps this side of her life to herself; she’s always trying to shelter me.

  I continue searching for the Bull as we walk, but the lights have dimmed, making it even harder to see anyone.

  We get to the bar and Leo manages to order a few quick drinks from the bartender, which he immediately hands to us. “Thanks, Leo,” I say, sipping it slowly. As the liquid makes contact with my tongue, I’m jolted by how disgusting it tastes. I swallow it down painfully, trying not to spit it out. Janelle smiles at me knowingly.

  She bends down to whisper in my ear. “Be careful, okay? Drink a cup of water for every alcoholic drink you have. Never forget that.” She presses her warm lips on my forehead and I smile.

  I look down in my cup, noticing it’s already half empty; surprisingly, it doesn’t taste so bad anymore. I’m glad I have it in my hands. It gives me something to hold while I glance around, trying to find the Bull.

  I finally spot him hanging out with a group of people by some couches, close to a corridor. I want to scream with excitement, but keep myself calm. Looking closely, it seems as if everyone in his group is angled toward him. They’re chatting away while he leans against a wall, relaxed and utterly sexy.

  The people he’s standing with are different from the rest of the crowd. They give off an air of money and entitlement. Unlike everyone I know who lives life trying to prove their worth with attitude and bravado, this group just has an innate confidence. They stand straight like they have a right to be here, owning their lives and their bodies without any fear. Is it just a matter of them having money? Or maybe their schooling? Or maybe it’s as simple as the way they were raised—taught to believe that they’re valuable.

  I don’t want my poor life; I want more. I want THAT. I bow my head and close my eyes for a moment, swearing to myself if I can get into college, I’m going to focus. I don’t want to mess it up. God, please don’t let me mess it up. I don’t want to live this life anymore. I want to succeed. I take another sip of my drink, my vision refocusing on the Bull.

  The girls around him wear stiletto heels with beautiful red soles peeking out from the arches. That redhead he had his arm around before is still next to him, model-perfect in a simple dark shirt and low-rise jeans. She’s wearing a leather jacket with silver studs along the collar that, from the looks of it, probably costs more than I’ll make for an entire summer at the pawnshop. Rubbing his arm while he’s staring out into the room, he turns as people come to chat him up.

  Unlike the others who are dressed expensively, he is super casual in black sweatpants and a black T-shirt. The muscle definition in his chest and arms can be seen from where I’m standing, and it has me breathing heavy.

  My whole life, I’ve never asked for anything. Nothing has truly ever belonged to me. But for the first time, I see something I want. My instinct is to feel unworthy. Why should I need or want someone like him? I’m not fancy or rich. I don’t even have any control over my life or—as Carlos showed me—my body. The reality is that I could be heading home tonight and get shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hell, Carlos could get out of jail, find me again, and decide he’s going to do whatever he pleases with me. Maybe what I need to take from all of this is that I’ve only got one life to live; I need to try to enjoy it.

  People step in front of him, blocking my view again. I want to scream at them to move. I may never be able to have him, but I want to at least look and dream. The way he stared at me earlier made me feel alive and beautiful, and right now, I’d do almost anything to be seen that way again. He steps away from the wall and begins walking away from his group, toward the bar. The bar. I’m near the bar! My heart thumps wildly in my chest, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do: run, stay still, turn away?

  As he walks forward, people jump in front of him, wanting to shake his hand or say hello. He’s cordial, making small talk with a few guys but not stopping for more than a moment or two. I can’t take my eyes off him, but I’m also terrified of him seeing me. When I know he’s getting close, my body makes the choice for me. I do an about-face, turning away. I simply can’t let him see me. I realize how absurd this is, and childish, for that matter. But I just…can’t.

  I turn myself toward the bar so I can at least watch him from my side eye.

  Janelle stops him, trying to get his attention. I tune into her voice and freeze. “Hey Bull, great fight tonight.” Her voice is higher pitched than usual.

  I can only imagine what he must be thinking. My throat burns as I anticipate him wanting her. She’s so beautiful and experienced and knows men in a way that I never have. My chest hurts with the realization that a man like him would always rather be with a woman like her. I slowly turn my head, trying to see if anything is happening between them. They’re chatting, and her body language is spelling out her attraction. I see her giggle and place a hand on his chest. I can’t see whether or not he’s enjoying the attention. I want to turn around and yell: “No! I want that one. Let me have just that one, and you can take anyone else in this entire place!” My mind finally shuts up as I watch him remove her fingers from his body. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel relief at his dismissal of her.

  At the bar, he r
aises an arm to get the bartender’s attention. I’m sweating with nerves. There are only a few people between him and me. Am I going to just let this go? I want to turn to him, but still can’t manage it; my feet feel as if they’re nailed to the floor. I know he’s ordering his drink when I see the elation on the bartender’s face—her reaction to him annoying but understandable. She bends forward, showing off her huge boobs.

  I cringe, rolling my eyes at her blatant display. “Come on Eve,” I say quietly to myself. “Get a grip and turn the hell around! You can do this, girl!” All at once, I get sick of myself. I’m tired of melting into the background, letting everyone make choices for me. The mental pep talk works as I steel my spine and pivot, straightening my body so I’m facing him. His eyes are trained forward. God, he’s huge. Even bigger up close. If I were in a cartoon, my mouth would be watering.

  Glancing around the room while he waits for his drink, our eyes connect. Recognition passes through his features as I stare, trying not to seem too eager. He smiles as if we’ve known each other for ages, lifting his hand to me.

  After taking his drink from the bartender, he drops some cash down and moves over to where I’m standing. I move to take a huge gulp of my drink, willing it to give my mouth words. He leans in toward me as I press my lips to the rim.

  “Having fun?” His voice is penetrating, and my knees weaken from the deep sound.

  I force my head to look up at him as I try to revive my brain. I wish I had something good to say. Unfortunately, all I can come up with is, “Yeah, I’m cool.” I nod my head and bring my drink back to my lips, taking another deep swallow. Now that I’m faced with him, all the flirtation I managed while he was physically far from me has turned to dust.

  He moves closer and I’m immediately assaulted by how good he smells. It’s fresh laundry, mint, sweat—and something else I can’t put my finger on. Holy shit, but if I could bottle his scent, I’d be a millionaire right now. He lifts his muscular arm, taking a deep pull from his beer. I’m having a visceral reaction to him and there is no stopping it.