The Cruel World

by Scarlett Haven

  West strolls off, leaving Alek, Kal, and I behind. He walks up to some guy and points his finger toward me. The guy looks and then shakes his head at West.

  Ah… West must be trying to get this guy to fight me. The guy took one look at me and probably thought I was too weak to take him on. My cheeks warm with embarrassment.

  I get it, I am small for a Spy School agent. And I’m a girl, which means a lot of these guys automatically see me as weak. Feeling empowered, I march my way over toward West and the guy, who now look like they’re arguing.

  I put my hands on my hips, looking up at the guy who has a good foot on me. Not to mention, he probably has a good one hundred pounds of pure muscle on me.

  “What’s the matter? You scared to lose to a girl?” I taunt.

  I’ve been to Spy School. I know exactly what to say to get this guy to fight me.

  We’re all about our pride—we want to look like the best. And the fact that I just called this guy on being scared to fight me, he won’t stand for that.

  He looks down at me, his cheeks red with anger. “I would crush a little girl like you.”

  I grin, loving that I’ve got him right where I want him. “Then why not fight me?”

  “Too easy of a win.” He juts his chin up, not wanting to even consider the fight.

  “If you fight her and you win, you can fight me,” West says.

  The guy’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

  West nods.

  The guy looks at me again, then back at West. “Fine. But I don’t want either one of you complaining when I wipe the floor with her.”

  I just smirk, looking at West. “Does that mean if I beat him, I get to fight you?”

  West snorts. “Don’t press your luck, Princess.”

  I roll my eyes at him, hating how fragile West treats me.

  West and I have never gone up against one another in a fight. I fight Alek almost daily, and Kal, Ian, and I fight often during training, but West has always refused to fight me. He always says he doesn’t want to hurt me, which is ironic considering all West does is hurt me.

  West motions some guy over with the nod of his head and he says something to him—I can’t hear what over the crowd. The guy looks at me and at the guy I’m going to fight against and gives West a questioning look, but he doesn’t argue. He must know West well—it doesn’t do any good to argue with the most stubborn male on the planet. Doesn’t keep me from trying though.

  A few minutes later, I find myself in a ring with a guy who is almost two of me. Still, I’m not scared. I’ve gone up against guys bigger than him before and won. For example, Alek. I go up against him every day. Sure, I don’t win often, but one time out of ten, I do win. And it feels good. Beating this guy will be easy. I know that because he’s not a Royal. He’s just a regular agent—maybe an Elite agent, I don’t know. But he was never chosen to join the secret group of Spy School agents like I was.

  I won’t be cocky about this, though. I’m going to focus and I am going to beat him. I know he must be good if he is who West chose for me to fight against.

  “No hard feelings when I beat you,” the guy says.

  I just grin. “Of course.”

  “Maybe we can go out sometime.”

  Is he seriously asking me on a date when we’re about to fight? Oh, he messed with the wrong girl.

  I advance on him, taking him by surprise.

  I’m fast—it’s one of the advantages that I have. I get in two hits before he has a chance to block me. The crowd cheers, but I’m too busy looking at his stunned face to notice. His face goes from stunned to angry in two seconds flat—he’s ready to fight me now. He advances on me, trying to get in a hit, but he’s slow. I easily block each hit. He wipes at the sweat that is beading up on his forehead, probably wondering how he’s getting beaten by a girl. Maybe this will teach him not to be so sexist.

  Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

  West.

  Some brunette girl has her hand on his bicep and is giggling at something he’s saying. I watch as he bends over and kisses her. My chest aches. I’m so busy watching him that I don’t notice the guy advance on me. His fist connects with my jaw and I stumble backward, my vision darkening for a second.

  The guy smiles, like he’s got some kind of advantage on me. But he has no advantage. He got one hit because I was distracted by West, who is now full on making out with a girl in my direct line of sight. I don’t pay him any attention as I advance on the guy again, this time ending it. I don’t want to put on a show anymore. I just want this guy on the ground and I want to get out of here.

  No, what I really want is to get West into this ring and fight him.

  I punch the guy three times in a row, until he stumbles backward. He falls onto his back and looks up at me in complete awe. I hold him down until I hear the announcement that I’ve won. As soon as they say that I storm off stage, past West and the brunette he’s making out with, and I go out to the car.

  Alek and Ian are the first to come out.

  “Give me the keys.” I hold out a hand to Alek.

  Alek raises an eyebrow, but hesitantly hands over the keys.

  I slide into the driver’s seat, starting the car. Alek gets into the passenger seat and Kal gets into the back. In my rearview mirror, I watch as West walks out of Fight Club, heading toward the car. I don’t wait for him. I put the Jeep in drive and I take off, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

  Kal and Alek don’t say a word to me for a full thirty seconds.

  “He’s going to be so furious,” Kal says.

  “Good.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

  Alek pulls out his phone. “He’s calling me.”

  “Ignore it,” I demand.

  Surprisingly, he does.

  Alek reaches a hand over, gently touching my face where I was punched.

  I wince as his fingers graze the spot.

  “You should ice that when we get home,” Alek says.

  I nod. “I will.”

  That is the last word that is spoken the whole way home.

  When I get there, I have twenty missed calls from West and one single text message.

  West: You’re dead.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be so petty, but I can’t help my snarky response.

  Me: I’m sure the brunette you were making out with would love to give you a ride home.

  Me: BTW, STAY OFF MY CHAIR.

  His response is instant.

  West: You sound jealous.

  I ignore that text, but I wonder if he’s right. Am I jealous?

  I push the thought aside, not wanting to even consider the possibility. Because if I’m jealous, that means I care. And I don’t. Not even a little.

  Sunday, December 3

  No time to be lazy.

  West hasn’t spoken one word to me since last night.

  Not.

  One.

  Word.

  I’m not sure what I expected to happen when he finally made his way home last night—probably yelling, and definitely fighting. What I didn’t expect was for him to go right to bed, not speaking one word to me.

  Last night, Kal, Alek, and I all went straight to bed when we got back from Fight Club. I couldn’t sleep, I was much too anxious for that. I stayed awake until I heard West come home. He got here about ten minutes after we did. I literally held my breath when the door opened, but he just climbed into his bed. I couldn’t sleep for about an hour after that.

  This morning, I expected… something. An airhorn in my face, maybe? But there is nothing. I woke up just after nine o’clock and that was that.

  Sunday is our day off, but I fully expected West to make me work because of The Royal Games. I don’t know who this other team is, but they must be evil for West to be acting like this. Even the other guys are anxious about wanting to beat them, but at least the other guys have calmed down a little bit. West is just… infuriating.

  On Sun
day afternoon, I hang out with Ian on the couch. Since the whole Royal Games thing started, I feel like I’ve hardly gotten to see him. I feel bad for him—he doesn’t get to train and that is partly because of me. I’m the reason his leg is broken.

  Well… West and me.

  Everything always comes back to him. It’s like, no matter what, the two of us just can’t seem to get along. Which is bad because he’s my team leader. I’m supposed to be able to get along with him and listen to his direction—how can I do that when we can’t even stand to be in the same room as one another?

  Ian and I watch our favorite TV show—he’s the only team member I can watch vampire shows with. All the other guys claim this show is ‘too girly.’

  His arm is slung around me and I put my head on his chest. He’s very comfortable.

  Things with Ian and I are easy. I like it. He’s such a good friend. I don’t have to worry about things getting complicated with us. I know we’re both on the same page.

  “I still don’t get why she’s dating the boring brother,” I say, shaking my head. “Clearly the broody one loves her more.”

  Ian scoffs. “That’s such a girl thing to say. Girls always go for the bad boys.”

  I wonder if he’s right, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to go there, even in my head. I’m not going to fall for West. I repeat it over and over again in my head like a mantra.

  If I have to fall in love with somebody on the team, why can’t it be with Ian? That would be simple. Well, other than the fact that he doesn’t like me like that. At least, I don’t think he does. I think he did at some point, but things have changed.

  “You really like the boring one better?” I lift my head to look at Ian, genuinely curious.

  He shrugs. “I guess. I don’t know. I feel like if I were one of those guys, I would be the boring one.”

  I shake my head. “No way. If you’re like anybody on this show, you’re like the ex that is trying way too hard to be the best friend.”

  Ian groans. “That’s worse.”

  I laugh. “At least he’s hot.”

  He chuckles, throwing his empty water bottle at me.

  I squeal throwing it back.

  The front door slams shut—I didn’t even hear it open—and West walks through. He’s got a scowl on his face, which seems to be normal as of lately.

  “Is this what you choose to do when I don’t force you to train? Be lazy and sit on the couch, flirting with your teammate?” West crosses his arms over his chest, walking closer to the couch.

  I look at him with my mouth open, wondering what to say.

  He really thinks I am flirting with Ian? Is he delusional?

  Ian pauses the show. I give him a grateful smile before turning to West.

  West clenches his jaw as he stands there, waiting for me to say something.

  I expected to have this argument last night. “Are you mad about me leaving you at Fight Club last night?”

  His nostrils flare. “Mad is a complete understatement. You took off and left me stranded. I had to hire a car service.”

  I jut my chin out. “I just figured you’d get a ride home from your girlfriend.”

  “Roxy Villareal… if you weren’t a girl, I’d fight you right now.” He pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. “But even I won’t stoop that low.”

  I roll my eyes, hating that he’s saying that. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Someday, she is going to kick your butt,” Ian says. “And I hope I am there to witness it.”

  West narrow his eyes at Ian, so I jump off the couch, standing between West and Ian. I will not let West be mean to Ian.

  West turns his glare to me. “Get ready. We’re going to Fight Club again tonight. This time, you’re not going to leave me there. You’ve got ten minutes to meet me at the car.”

  Without giving me a chance to respond, West turns and storms out of the condo. I look after him with my mouth hanging open.

  “Wow,” Ian says.

  I turn to him. “What do you think would happen if I just didn’t go down.”

  He rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t think you want to know what happens when you disobey an order from West. Just ask Alek if you don’t believe me.”

  I can imagine West would punish us. But isn’t he already punishing me? It seems like a day doesn’t go by where he doesn’t harass me or be mean to me. I feel like every day, I have to walk on eggshells around him and it’s still not enough. He absolutely loathes me and I can’t figure out why.

  “I better get dressed.” I frown, glancing at our episode that is half finished.

  “We can finish this later.” Ian smiles at me to reassure me, but it’s more of a grimace. He feels sorry for me. To be honest, I feel sorry for me too.

  I rush off toward the bedroom, not wanting to keep West waiting. I change out of my pajamas and quickly grab some workout clothes. Just as I’m about to put them on, I decide I want to make West mad, so I put on a dress instead. If he’s going to make me do this, then I will do it in a way that aggravates him the most.

  When I walk out of my room, Ian starts laughing.

  “West is going to throw a fit when he sees you,” Ian warns.

  “That’s what I’m counting on.” I grin, holding my head up higher. “I’ll see you later, Ian.”

  “Good luck,” he says.

  I think I’m going to need a lot of luck.

  As I head down, I take the stairs, wanting to get to the car as quickly as possible. By the time I slide into the passenger seat, there are only seconds to spare in West’s ten minute warning. When I get in, he looks at me, his face turning bright red, but he doesn’t say a word. He just starts the car and takes off toward Fight Club.

  Tonight, Kal and Alek aren’t going with us. It’s just West and me. I wonder where the other guys are, but I’m not curious enough to ask West. They might be working on something that I’m not privy to know about.

  West’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel as he pulls onto the main road. He glances over at me, then back at the road, shaking his head. I know he wants to say something. Part of me wants him to say something so I can smart back to him, but maybe it’s best if we just stay quiet.

  How am I supposed to survive on West’s team? Part of me thinks it would be better to leave—these guys don’t need me. But then I think about leaving Ian, Kal, and Alek. I can’t do that. They’ve become my family. I won’t let West run me off.

  “I can’t believe you wore that,” West says, keeping his eyes on the road.

  I look down at my dress, wondering the same thing. At least I’m wearing Converse. “It won’t be the first time I’ve ever fought in a dress.”

  West doesn’t say anything, but I do see him smirk out of the corner of my eye.

  I will never understand this complicated boy.

  I can’t believe it.

  “You’re not just bringing me here so you can leave me, right?” I cross my arms over my chest as we get out of the Jeep and start walking toward the warehouse. “So you can get revenge?”

  He smirks. “While the thought has crossed my mind a few times, I’m not as petty as you are. Don’t worry, Princess. I’m not going to leave you here.” He pats his pocket. “And I’ve got the keys, so I know you’re not leaving me either.”

  We get into the line, which is pretty long tonight. We don’t have to stand in the line for long before West is motioned forward. He brings me with him.

  Of course, West doesn’t have to wait in line. I roll my eyes as he fist bumps the guy at the front who tells us to go ahead and enter.

  Coming into Fight Club makes my stomach muscles tense up—not so much that I don’t like the fighting part, I do. It’s just this place has a lot of bad memories for me. First, with Frat Boy kissing me and all the guys getting mad at me for no reason. And second, the part that makes me feel the most sick, is last night, when I saw West kissing that brunette girl.

  He doesn’t even like blondes
.

  That’s what I was told when I first moved into the condo—Kal told me that.

  I don’t know why I care anyway. I don’t even like West.

  Heads turn to look at us—partly because I’m with West, who appears to be a superstar at Fight Club. The other part of the stares is because I’m wearing a dress—a pink one at that. I figure if West is going to call me Princess, I might as well play the part well. Part of me regrets the decision, but I know that once I get into the ring I will fight just as well in this dress as any of the girls fight in their workout gear.

  “Regretting the dress?” West leans closer, whispering the words in my ear.

  I hate how his whisper causes chills to break out on my arms. I narrow my eyes at him. “No. I’ll kick the butt of whoever you put in that ring with me. Maybe this time you can choose somebody who will actually be a challenge.”

  West smirks. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

  He lets go of my hand and walks away, leaving me at the front of the ring by myself. It doesn’t matter—I don’t need him to hold my hand. But it is weird to be standing here alone. I’m not used to being alone. Our two-bedroom condo is so small to have five people living in it. And since the guys moved me into their room, I literally have no time to myself. Somebody is always around. Now that I’m alone, I can’t help but feel a little lonely.

  I glance around, looking for West. I hate that I am looking for him. I try to tell myself I’m only looking because I’m worried he will leave me here, but that’s not true. West Newman just consumes my thoughts more than I care to admit.

  Jealousy hits me hard when I find West standing at the edge of the room. He’s standing next to a ginger haired girl tonight. They are standing way closer than I’d like for them to be. I have to remind myself that I have no claim on West. We shared one kiss, and that was weeks ago. We aren’t anything but friends. Still, as he leans closer to her and he kisses her, something comes over me.