by Ash, Nikki
“Not today. I’m hoping to get in at least seven miles. How about we go for a run together around the neighborhood tomorrow after school?”
“Okay, cool,” Nathan says, shoving more cereal into his mouth. I finish eating my apple and throw the core in the garbage. I grab a cereal bar and my bottle of water and head toward the front door to wait for Marco as my parents come down the stairs.
“Morning. Just getting up?” I give them a knowing look.
“Actually, we’ve been up for a couple hours. We just had to go upstairs to…” My mom blushes at the realization she’s about to be busted.
So, of course, my dad saves her. “Find something. Where are you going?” Good change of subject, Dad.
“I’m going jogging over at Red Rock with Marco.”
“Have a good run, honey.” My mom gives me a quick kiss on my cheek before going to the kitchen.
“Make sure you warm up good first,” my dad says. Always in trainer mode.
“You got it.”
Marco pulls up in his black Audi A5, a birthday present from his parents for his eighteenth birthday. I yell bye to my parents and run out the door toward his car. I still have ten months until I turn sixteen, but I’m hoping I get something half as hot as his car.
“Hey!” I say, getting in and putting on my seatbelt.
“Morning Belles,” he replies.
Just like I do every time I get in his car, I begin to mess with the music. I grab the auxiliary cord and plug my phone in, clicking play on my playlist.
“Damn, Bella. It’s too early in the morning for your girly shit.”
“Don’t talk trash about Avril. She’s badass.” I stick my tongue out and Marco rolls his eyes at me but still lets me turn it up.
The ride to Red Rock is about twenty-five minutes and the entire way I sing the lyrics to the songs obnoxiously. Marco shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Our friendship has always been easy. Even when he hit high school, and I was much younger, things pretty much stayed the same between us. Sure, he made new friends and would hang out with them occasionally, but he still made fighting and training his number one priority which meant I still saw him daily at my dad’s gym. He’s never cared that I’m six years younger than him. He’s always treated me like his equal.
Then, when he turned eighteen and started fighting professionally, I was a little older, and in the back of my mind I thought for sure he would forget about me and our friendship, but here we are almost three years later and still hanging out like we always have. Marco knows what fighting means to me and he’s amazing about encouraging and supporting me.
The only person I’m closer to than Marco is Tristan. Tristan and I have been friends since we were born (okay, not really, but pretty much). But while Tristan loves to fight and enjoys it as a hobby, he doesn’t really plan to go professional with it. He has mentioned taking the training route like his dad or even possibly becoming a sports agent one day. Who knows.
Fighting, in some shape or form, has been a part of our lives for as far back as I can remember. Marco’s dad, Caleb, is a retired fighter from the UFC just like my dad, and Marco’s mom is a doctor who runs a sports medicine clinic. My mom does the accounting at the rec center and at my dad’s gym. Tristan’s dad, Kaden, is a trainer at the gym, and his mom, Ashley, runs the rec center. My dad’s best friend Bentley used to be a UFC fighter but quit to become a stay-at-home dad years ago, and his wife, my aunt Kayla, who pretty much helped raise me for the first four years of my life, works with Marco’s mom at the sports clinic as a physical therapist.
See what I mean? Fighting is my life. My dream is to one day become a UFC women’s champion. Marco understands where I’m coming from because his goal is just like mine. Since he started fighting, he has been in several fights in the last couple years and is undefeated in his weight class. His most recent fight was a few weeks ago and he was the main card event on Pay-Per-View. It’s the first fight he made seriously good money on, especially since he won, but more importantly he has become a household name. He has women showing up to the gym wanting to go out with him, they are stalking his social media, and guys will ask him for his autograph while we’re out somewhere.
Watching him fight and win is amazing. If Marco can do it then I know I can as well. He might be older but I’ve been fighting longer. I can’t wait to turn eighteen and join the UFC, and I will join the UFC because I am determined.
“You ready to do this?” Marco parks his car in the parking lot and turns to me, his smile making my heart beat just a little out of rhythm. With eyes the color of onyx, raven-colored hair shaved short, and caramel colored skin courtesy of his Hispanic roots, Marco Michaels is a damn good-looking guy. Then you add his carefree attitude and his fit body, and it’s no wonder girls swoon over him on a regular basis.
I ignore the way his smile makes me feel and answer him. “Yep!”
We get out of the car and walk to the trail. After warming up and stretching, we start on our run. While Marco could easily outrun me, he always runs next to me, keeping at the same pace. We run side by side in comfortable silence. The only noise is my app letting us know when we hit each mile. After the third mile, Marco slows down.
“Holy shit! I feel like I haven’t run in years.” Marco comes to a standstill, sitting on a rock on the side of the dirt trail.
“What have you been doing the last few weeks since you won your fight?” I laugh, continuing to jog in place to keep up the momentum.
“Basking in the glory of my win,” he jokes.
“Well, you need to bask in the glory of this run. Let’s go!” I take off running to get a head start knowing Marco will follow and catch up to me in no time, but when I turn the corner, I don’t see the huge ass rock in my way. My foot hits it, and because there’s nothing but air around to catch my fall, I fall onto the ground right onto my knees.
“Ow!” I roll over onto my butt, holding onto my legs. My knees hit the hard ground. That shit hurt. Bad.
“You okay?” Marco kneels to check on my knees.
“I’m fine. It just hurts.”
“Let me see.” He sits next to me and grabs my legs, putting them on top of his. Both my knees are bright red and lightly bleeding.
“We need to clean these up in case there are pieces of rock in your cuts.” Marco rubs his hands down my leg causing my stomach to do flip-flops.
“I’m fine,” I insist, trying to move my legs out of his reach.
“Stop. Let me clean your knees.” He grabs my legs and holds onto them tight. Then he grabs his shirt from the back and lifts it over his head, leaving his sweaty front on display. I divert my attention back to my cuts.
Taking his bottle of water, Marco wets the shirt and gently rubs each of my knees. I flinch when the material hits my cuts.
“Sorry,” he says softly. He leans over and gently blows on the cuts, making my stomach clench and my heart go erratic. After both my knees are clean, he stands then reaches down to help me up as well. As I come up onto my feet, my body hits his, not realizing how hard he was tugging me up. Our faces are close, only inches apart. He glances down at me and sighs, his cool breath hitting me. It smells like the peppermints he’s always sucking on. Our eyes lock and we kiss.
And holy. Shit. Do we kiss.
His lips start off soft just barely touching mine like he’s testing the waters, unsure of himself. Our eyes are still open, neither of us daring to be the first to blink. My heart is pounding, and his breathing is heavy. When my lips move in sync with his, his eyes close, his kiss becoming more aggressive. My head tilts to the side and his tongue finds its way inside. Marco’s hands leave mine and land on my butt, pulling me closer to him until our sweaty bodies are lined up with no space between us.
Our kiss goes from sweet and gentle to frantic and desperate within seconds. Our tongues entwining with each other. I finally close my eyes and sink into his hold. Just as I think I’m getting the hang of this, it stops. Marco’s lips leave mine
and he backs up.
“Shit.” His hands come up to his face, his head shaking in disbelief. I don’t even know what to say. I would be lying if I said I’ve never imagined what it would be like to be kissed by Marco. I’m a teenage girl, of course I have. But I never imagined it would be so… Wow! This is my first time being kissed, and if this is what my first kiss feels like… well, I can’t even imagine it getting any better than that.
“Shit,” Marco hisses again. His head is tilted to the sky now like he’s praying to the heavens above. He’s breathing like he just ran ten miles and his fists are clenched at his sides.
“Umm…” I start to say having no idea what to continue with. What I want to say is “Let’s do that again,” but something tells me Marco’s “Shit” isn’t a good shit, more like a What the hell was I thinking shit.
“We need to get back,” he says, and without waiting for me, he turns around and starts running back to his car. I run after him, but unlike every time we’ve run together, this time Marco doesn’t wait for me.
“Should we… maybe…talk about this?” I finally ask when I catch up to him outside of his car.
“Later,” is all he says.
He hits the key fob unlocking the doors and gets in, and without waiting for me to turn on the music like he always does, he turns it on himself. He turns it up loud, making it clear he doesn’t want to talk. Okay, fine, I think to myself. We will talk later, like he said. It’ll give me time to process what happened.
Tomorrow.
We will talk about this tomorrow.
Once we have both processed what just happened, we’ll discuss this.
Chapter Three
Bella
Roughly Four Years Ago
“Bella, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute.” I apply a thin coat of clear lip gloss to my lips—just enough to make them shiny—and take one last look at myself in the mirror.
“Bella, let’s go!” Tristan yells to me from downstairs. Our parents are out tonight for a fundraiser for the rec center and Lilly is staying at Hayley and Caleb’s house along with Tristan’s younger twin sisters, Morgan and Emma. Nathan is spending the night at his friend’s house, and Tristan and I are going to a bonfire at a friend’s house from the gym whose parents are out of town. He lives down the street from Tristan on a bunch of property.
“Coming!” I grab my hoodie off the back of my chair. It’s February in Nevada which means the weather can change at any time, so while it’s in the seventies right now, the temperature can easily drop where the party is happening. Unlike my neighborhood where houses are no more than a few feet from each other, the houses in Tristan’s neighborhood are all on several acres of land in the outskirts, which makes it the perfect place for bonfire parties.
I fly down the stairs and am about to run out the door when Elsa, my dog, comes running toward me, wagging her tail. Bending down, I pet her under her chin just like she likes. My parents bought Elsa for me for Christmas ten years ago. Technically, she’s the family pet, but she loves me the most. She follows me around when I’m home and sleeps at the end of my bed every night.
“Bye, Elsa. You be a good dog while I’m gone.” Her tail wags harder, hoping I’ll say something indicating she can go with me.
“C’mon! When are you getting your car fixed?” Tristan opens the front door for me. I close it behind us and lock it, then follow behind him to his truck. My parents bought me the cutest Volvo SUV for my birthday a couple weeks ago, and of course, my luck, I parked it at the gym and some idiot who wasn’t looking where he was going, hit it! So now, I’m carless until it gets fixed.
“It’s at the body shop now. My dad said it should be done by the end of next week.”
When we drive up to Brandon’s house, people are already pulling in and parking. “Hey Brandon!” I wave to him and he comes over and gives me a hug.
“My parents would kill me if anyone goes inside so we need to keep it outside. Can you help me with the drinks?”
“Of course!”
Brandon steers everyone around the side while I go inside to see what he has going on. I find a bunch of drinks and a bag of ice on the counter. After pouring the ice into the cooler, I throw the sodas and waters inside and attempt to pull it out back.
“Jesus, this is heavy,” I say out loud.
“Need some help?” I jump at the sound of the deep voice that has ability to make me smile or frown, and turn around.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hoping my words come across cold to hide the nervousness I’m suddenly feeling.
“I’m in town visiting my parents. I was at the gym visiting my dad when Tristan and Brandon were discussing the party. Tristan invited me.”
“Well, it’s about time. You really upset your mom leaving for so long.” I look down at the cooler and add, “I can handle it myself.” Then I silently curse Tristan for inviting Marco even though he doesn’t know what happened last year. I turn back around, grabbing the side handle, and lift it up a few inches, willing the heavy ass cooler to drag. Of course it doesn’t.
“Here, let me help you.” Marco reaches for the handle, his hand grazing mine, and I pull away, the cooler dropping to the floor with a loud thud.
Marco’s body is close to mine, too close, so I take a step back, and he frowns.
“Can we talk?”
“I need to get the food and drinks outside.”
“Okay… later?”
“Sure, we can have this conversation next year,” I say dryly.
Marco frowns. “Don’t be like that.”
“Don’t be like what, Marco?” I ask defensively. “Don’t be like you? Choosing to run away to avoid dealing with shit?”
“What we did that day… When we…” Marco closes his eyes like he’s in too much pain to even finish the sentence.
“Kissed.” I finish it for him, hoping I’m making him uncomfortable. “We kissed.”
“Yeah. It was wrong. You were fifteen years old, Belles. A fucking teenager. I was twenty-one. It never should have happened.”
“Oh, give me a damn break. It was a kiss. And then you ran away like a ball-less jerk to another freaking state!” Marco and I are standing less than a foot apart, my hands are on my hips, and his hands are curled into fists by his side. He goes to open his mouth to speak when the back door opens.
“Everything okay in here?” We avert our eyes toward Tristan, his eyebrows dipped in confusion. His gaze bounces from me to Marco and back to me again waiting for one of us to answer.
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “I can’t carry the cooler. I put the ice in it and now it’s too heavy.”
Tristan studies me for a minute then nods once. “No problem. I’ll grab it.” He takes the cooler and lifts it like it weighs nothing, carrying it outside.
Just as I’m about to follow him out the door, Marco grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway. When he turns the knob, it’s locked. He goes to the next door and it opens. Tugging me inside the bathroom, he closes the door behind us, caging me in against the door, both hands on either side of me, palms flat against the door.
“I miss you, Belles.”
“Could have fooled me.” I tilt my chin up in defiance staring straight at Marco. “I’m pretty sure you moved to a whole other state just to get away from me.” Even I can hear the hurt in my voice, so I avoid looking at Marco, trying to calm myself down.
With one hand, he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’m sorry. You are one of my best friends. I freaked out.”
“You don’t say?”
Marco smirks at me. “Still a smartass.”
“What do you want, Marco?”
“I want our friendship back.”
I sigh and shake my head. I want more than that. I want to discuss the kiss and the way it made me feel. I want to kiss him again and see if the butterflies come back. But if all he wants is friendship then it’s clear he didn’t feel what I felt when we
kissed, which means I have no choice but to let it go. Sweep it under the rug just like he’s doing. I don’t want to lose our friendship. Marco means too much to me.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He looks at me incredulously.
“Okay,” I say again. We stand there for a moment and I silently beg him to change his mind, to kiss me, to do something, anything, but instead he simply smiles and backs away from me.
“Good.” Not good.
We both leave the bathroom and go out back to join everyone around the bonfire. The speakers are blaring country music and people are already drinking and having a good time. Brandon made it clear, if someone drinks they have to give him their keys and spend the night. He has a huge yard, like acres of land, and most people will be pitching tents to spend the night.
Marco finds a seat around the bonfire and sits. I can’t be near him right now, so I find a few girls from school and join them.
“Bella!” Joslynn squeals, giving me a hug. “I saw you walk out with that hottie. Anything going on there?” She waggles her eyebrows and the other girls all giggle. Because Marco is so much older, unless someone goes to the gym we go to, they won’t know him.
“No, he’s just an old friend.”
“Would you mind if I go talk to him?” Kimberly asks. An uneasy feeling in my gut washes through me and I feel sick. I want to scream at her and tell her, “Yes, I mind!” but instead I grab a beer from a cooler and say, “Go for it.” Then give her a fake smile.
Four beers later and I’m feeling tipsy. The amount of cardio I’m going to have to do tomorrow to burn off these wasted calories is going to be ridiculous. This is why I never drink—besides the fact that I’m underage and my parents would kill me if they knew. Having to burn off the calories isn’t worth the few hours of drinking. It makes me sluggish the next day and I feel gross when trying to train.
