by Anna Todd
Nick shook you from your thoughts. “Hey, you all right?” He looked over at Rhett. “You know him, or something?”
Rhett’s expression shifted into something friendly, and he waved at the two of you. Your hands tightened into fists. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real. He must have tracked you down. Now Rhett was staring at you and Nick, and who knew what was going through that lunatic’s head right now. Rhett had a severe temper, and the last thing you wanted was for Nick to get hurt because of you. You’d already endangered his life the moment Rhett saw you with him.
“I’m fine,” you managed to get out evenly, but on the inside, you were struggling to keep it together. “I have to handle a private matter.”
Nick looked back over at Rhett, and you could tell Nick was taking in the bad vibes from the situation. He stepped closer to you and stared Rhett down. Still, as hot as it was that Nick was being possessive, you needed to get your ass moving before he got involved with Rhett. Rhett was your problem.
“Nick, I’m fine. Just . . . stay here, okay?” Before he could argue, you dismissed him with your back as you stormed toward Rhett. You stopped a safe enough distance from him and he smirked.
“You have some fucking nerve showing up here.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” He stepped forward for a hug, and you stepped back. He looked stoned and drunk off his ass. You imagined he was wired on drugs the entire night, which would explain why he was at the center so early. “Well, all right then, I guess I don’t get a ‘welcome back’ kiss. It took a lot of dedication to find you, you know. Time in a cage can really make a man miss his girl.”
You didn’t care about any of that; you just had to find the right way to play this to get him out of here. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
His amusement fell away. “A favor. I’ve lost my placing at Cesspool, and my criminal record is fucking me over, keeping me from getting a job. Your friend, that faggot owner of the place, Pringle, or whatever the fuck his name is, has been giving me a hard time about getting back at it at Cesspool. I need money, and not the quick and easy bucks that the lower rankies get. Convince your friend to get me up in the rankings and you’ll never have to see my handsome face again. I really need your help.”
You didn’t give a flying fuck about Rhett’s lifestyle postprison. If you did any favors for him, he’d just keep coming back for more. And if Chip pushed Rhett up in the ranks, which he wouldn’t, it wasn’t as if Rhett would use the money for groceries or donate all his victory earnings to children. He would spend it all on drugs and sex.
“No,” you finally said.
“No?” Rhett’s features contorted in anger. Clearly, the last thing he’d expected was for you to say no. You thought he’d come barreling toward you. “What the fuck do you mean, no?”
“I’m not doing it. Get the hell out of here, before I contact your parole officer. Harassing me, combined with your going to Cesspool, will have you back in jail, dropping the soap for your boyfriends in no time.”
Rhett’s face went red with anger. “Don’t you threaten me, bitch.” He started toward you and you backed up. “Do you really think a fucking parole officer will stop me from hurting—?”
“Hey!” Nick’s voice boomed from behind you. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Rhett stopped; a grin framed his face, and then he hitched his gaze to Nick. Fear licked up your spine. You knew that expression all too well. Rhett was itching for a fight.
“We’re just having a friendly conversation, man,” he said, holding his arms out in an easygoing way.
“Get the fuck out of my gym.”
“No offense, but the conversation is between her and me.”
“Turn around and go back the way you came,” Nick said forcefully.
Rhett’s nostrils flared and the two squared off.
“Nick. Nick, please stop.” You grabbed Nick’s arm and pulled him back a step. “Rhett is right, this is between him and me.”
“What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll hurt your boyfriend?” Rhett raked you up and down with his gaze, licking his bottom lip a little. “He’ll get tired of you, you know. You’re too fucked in the head for anyone to love. I bet your daddy didn’t even love you.”
Tears pricked your eyes. “Don’t you dare talk about my father, you piece of shit!” You lunged toward him, but Nick yanked you back and held you against his chest. “Let. Go. Of. Me!”
He continued to hold you in a steel lock, until eventually you relaxed. Rhett wasn’t worth it. Employees began to edge closer, to see what the commotion was about.
“This is your last warning, man,” Nick said, stepping up to Rhett and holding you with one arm behind him. “Leave the premises, or I’ll make you leave.”
You evaluated the two men. Rhett’s disadvantage was that he was a good three inches shorter than Nick. Where he would have an advantage was in his strength. His body was crammed with bulging muscles that had been amplified by steroids and protein shakes. Nick was all muscle, so by no means scrawny or weak, but he was built leaner than Rhett. Nick’s advantage would be that he could move smoother and faster on his feet, like a jaguar.
Rhett burst out laughing. “Fine, make me leave. Let’s see who’s the better man after I snap you in half.” He shoved Nick’s chest. “Let’s go. Right now. Hit me.”
“Rhett, don’t,” you pleaded.
Rhett ignored you and shoved Nick again. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s see what you got. Come on!”
Nick put his fists up and remained deadly still, disregarding Rhett’s taunts with an even expression. Consequently, Rhett became enraged, grinding his teeth. His knuckles cracked as he tightened them into fists. You thought about intervening further, but this was Nick’s fight now. He’d chosen to protect you, and you wouldn’t be one of those idiot girls who would jump in the middle of an all-out brawl between two grown men. That would just be stupid.
Suddenly, Rhett rolled with his adrenaline rush and came forward first, aiming his fist toward Nick’s face. Nick blocked, snatched Rhett’s outstretched arm, and counterpunched him in the face. Rhett tried for a quick hook, and Nick ducked under it, dropping a punch into Rhett’s solar plexus. Rhett was paralyzed for a fraction of a second, and Nick used this to his advantage. He moved forward and grabbed a fistful of Rhett’s longish red hair. In one quick motion, he brought Rhett’s head down and slammed a knee into his gut. Nick ended the fight with one hard blow to Rhett’s back with his elbow. Rhett collapsed to the ground, wheezing. The fight had ended as quickly as it had begun.
Rhett held his gut with a pained expression. “You fucking . . . psycho.”
“You lay one fucking finger on her ever again,” Nick said in a calm voice, “and I’ll make breathing a permanent issue for you.”
A roar of applause came from the employees standing around the fight. Nick didn’t seem to hear it and looked over at you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back.
You were at a different angle from Nick and saw it first. While laying his act on thick, Rhett had reached for a knife in his boot. You snapped into action and sprinted forward. As Rhett lunged toward Nick with the blade, your sneaker snapped off the ground, knocking the blade from his hand. You then delivered a punch so hard into Rhett’s face that you could feel his nose shatter beneath your knuckles.
Rhett was out cold before he hit the ground.
One of the employees had called the cops during the fight. They arrived shortly after Rhett regained consciousness and collected him. You, Nick, and some of the employees were questioned. You wanted to tell Nick everything about Rhett, but feared the consequences. The moment you said Rhett verbally abused you and made you feel like a lesser person—yet you stayed with him for months—would be the moment Nick saw you as damaged goods. And the more you’d spent time with Nick, the more you cared about his opinion of you. You wanted him to see you as you, not as the scared, lonely girl who fell for a maniac. It was humiliating.
But at the same time you knew that Nick needed to know. That in some ways you wanted him to. So when you told the cops about you and Rhett, you made sure Nick was beside you. You felt the gravity of the situation weigh down on you as Nick took it all in, silently watching you. Once you were done telling the cops everything, it was ruled that you had defended yourself. You felt your chest tighten, excused yourself, and headed quickly for the locker rooms.
Vaguely, you heard Nick calling after you as you slipped into the women’s locker room, but all you could focus on was that the monster that haunted your dreams had been in the same building as you—in your special place. In the locker room you splashed icy water on your face.
You heard footsteps entering and wiped frantically at your tears, as if that would stop them. In the mirror over the sink, you saw Nick step up behind you, visibly saddened.
“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll leave. I’m just sorry that prick was ever in your life.” Nick placed a hand on your waist and you started to sob all over again. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, but it was inevitable. “Fuck, come here.” He spun you around and pulled you to his strong chest, so that you were cocooned by his delicious cologne and warm body.
Eventually, you pulled back and struggled to keep your voice clear of emotion. “I’m so embarrassed,” you said miserably. All of your racing thoughts began to pour out of you. “You must see me so differently now. You must think I’m so . . . damaged. Rhett wasn’t always like that. He’s my problem and I made him yours out there. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me, Nick, but I made you fight my own battle, and—”
Nick cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. His tongue brushed against yours. Your head spun and you sank into the kiss.
Then your eyes snapped open and you pushed him back. “I don’t know if I can do this. You’re a nice guy and I really like you, but look at me. I’m a mess.”
“You have every right to be a mess right now. If you weren’t, I’d be concerned.”
“Nick—”
“You didn’t make me do anything out there. I wasn’t about to let some asshole hurt you. That has to do with me caring about you.” The sincerity of his words made you melt a little on the inside. “And you don’t have to explain yourself.” He wiped away a tear from your cheek. “Your past is your past. I’m interested in the version of you that is right in front of me. The strong, sassy, gorgeous girl who told me off the first time I met her.”
“Third time you met me,” you corrected thickly.
“Third time?”
“Second time I ran away, and third time I told you off.”
He frowned. “And the first time . . . ?”
Your face turned a deep red. “Your Instagram feed . . .”
“Third time we met, then.” He laughed and played with a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “Whatever this is between us now has nothing to do with what happened to you in the past. And as far as I’m concerned, you fought your own battle today too. That kick to disarm Rhett and that final punch to his face were the most badass things I’ve ever seen. Plus, you probably saved my life.” His arrogant joke made you both laugh.
“And”—he grew serious—“you did something that I thought was impossible.” He leaned into you. Under the fluorescent lights, you could see specks of light brown in his dark, almond-shaped eyes. “You made me like you more.”
Your smile was timid at first, like that of a shy, innocent girl getting complimented, but then you snapped out of it and punched him in the arm. “God, you’re such a sap sometimes.” Truth be told, you wanted to see where things went with you, too. “You’re wrong about one thing.” You inhaled slowly. “You didn’t just protect me out there, you protected the center. Max would have done the same thing. I really think this place is in good hands, Nick.” You stepped closer to him and held his stubbly jaw with two hands. “And it’ll be in even better hands once I kick your fucking ass in that fight tonight.”
NICK HAD TAKEN RHETT DOWN at an incredible speed, which concerned you because it was T-minus ten minutes until your rematch with LA Surfer Boy. You’d contacted Chip and asked for a very special favor: thirty minutes of free time in his underground arena. Since Cesspool didn’t open until later, no one would be there.
“Here are the keys to lock up when you’re done,” Chip said, still giddy about the bagel you’d brought him, along with the hot cashier’s number.
Your mind was at ease knowing that Rhett was in custody with an unpleasant bruise on his face from your fist. You hoped he actually rotted in jail the second time around.
“You’re a great friend, Chip. Thanks for doing this for me. I know it’s risky opening up during the day.”
“Anything to get you laid, darling.”
You smacked his chest as he laughed.
Metal doors opened and slammed shut, echoing in the arena. Nick appeared with his duffel bag and bo staff and swept his gaze over the spacious area. He spotted you, smiled, and walked toward you.
“Holy shit,” Chip muttered. “That’s Nick.”
“He’s a model,” you whispered.
“I approve.” As Nick came a little closer, Chip muttered, “Quick, ask him if he’s bisex—”
You elbowed Chip in the gut and motioned to him. “This is my friend Chip. He owns Cesspool.”
The two shared a manly “ ’Sup” and shook hands.
“I’d love to stay and watch her kick your ass, man, but I have other plans,” Chip joked. “Nice meeting you.” He turned to you, shielding the side of his face from Nick and mouthing, Holy fucking shit!—then left the two of you alone in the arena.
“So I guess this means you’re not quitting Cesspool,” Nick said.
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet,” you replied slyly. “Co-owning a dying fitness center can really take up a girl’s time.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Have a quick lunch before you came here?” You stepped up into the raised boxing ring. “Hope you don’t get any cramps during the fight. . . .”
“Didn’t eat.” Nick hopped into the ring and began to twirl his bo staff around his body. “Don’t worry, I’ll have a big dinner with you tonight, after I quickly win this thing.”
You narrowed your eyes at him as he snickered. “Remember”—you stepped closer to Nick—“if I win, the deal is that I get to co-own the center with you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And if I win, I get to take you to dinner and ravish you afterward.”
You circled.
“You know, a boxing ring seems a little confining for our fight.” Nick smacked the ropes next to him with his bo staff. “And you’re also more used to the space in this ring than I am. Are you trying to make the match more difficult for me?”
“Well, when you put it that—” You stopped midsentence and thrust toward Nick with your bo staff, nearly hitting him in the face. At the last second, he snapped into action, blocking it with a quick circular motion of his weapon.
“Are you trying to kill me? We didn’t bow out of courtesy, princess.”
You grinned. “In Cesspool, there aren’t any rules.”
Before he could reply, you spun the weapon over your head and struck at his ribs. He blocked and thrust forward with a combo. Now you were on defense, and his attacks were getting faster and more aggressive. He wanted to end the fight quickly, but you were hanging in there.
“Save some of that energy for tonight, baby.” Nick broke away and twirled the weapon effortlessly around his body, amusement dancing in his eyes. He beckoned you forward. “Come on, baby. Let’s end this.”
You charged and moved faster than ever before, putting all your focus and energy into each strike, block, and thrust you initiated. Nick slowly began to retreat as you corralled him with each attack. He’d done exactly what you’d expected and eventually hit the boxing-ring ropes. This error put him at a disadvantage. You lunge
d forward and rapid-fired attacks from both sides of the bo staff, ending with a sweep to his legs that he was too slow to block.
You both froze and made eye contact.
“Game over,” you said.
Nick let his head fall back. “Fuck!”
You stepped back and curtsied. He daggered you with his gaze as you spun around the boxing ring, rubbing it in that you’d won. You sashayed back to him and poked him teasingly with your bo staff.
“Co-owner, co-owner,” you sang over and over.
“At least I didn’t rub it in when I won,” he growled.
“Are you holding up your end of the deal?”
“Of course.” He looked miserable. “A deal’s a deal.”
You laughed, dropped your bo staff, strutted over to him, wrapped your hands around his neck, and kissed him. He was tense at first, but then he relaxed, tilting his head at a better angle to deepen the kiss. His hands fell to your waist and held you possessively. Your teeth nipped at his bottom lip before you pulled away.
“Perhaps we should have dinner to celebrate our new partnership,” you said. “I have this new dress and heels.”
Slowly, Nick’s mouth lifted into a smile. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
An Occasional Friday
Scarlett Drake
Imagine . . .
No one else has recognized him yet—only you.
You’ve always been amazed by how easily he’s able to blend into a crowd. Maybe it’s because the paparazzi pictures of him walking down the street make him look like just another London hipster. . . .
Except he’s not. The closer you are to him, the more you realize there’s an innate perfection to him that’s hard to capture, as though he’s been handcrafted from some precious mineral you can’t pronounce. He has sunglasses on and his hat pulled down low, covering most of his face—he’s almost unrecognizable.
Almost. You’d know him anywhere. Even sitting across from you now on the subway.