Liam (Hawthorne Brothers Romance)

by M. L. Young

  “Okay, sounds good,” I said, before the clock finally struck and Dr. Ingle said we could leave.

  MMA fights weren’t really my thing, but I guess I should have those college experiences before it was too late. I thought it was a bit barbaric, but a night out with my friends could be something good for me.

  Chapter Three

  Liam

  I didn’t just train in the gym, I worked there, too.

  Fighting, albeit amateur fighting for now, paid me enough that I could live mostly off that. We traveled out of state a lot, since New York just began allowing sanctioned MMA fights, but I needed a little extra money for savings, groceries, and transportation. That was where the gym came in.

  Tino paid me to clean up, set up, and keep the place nice and orderly. I wasn’t even sure how the place stayed afloat and was able to pay me and a few other guys, considering how few people actually trained here, but I wasn’t asking questions. It wasn’t like he would tell me, anyway.

  I walked around the gym, picking up some mats and duct-taping a few others that had gotten small tears or holes in them that Tino wanted to make sure wouldn’t turn into bigger problems down the line. Gym mats, especially higher quality ones, were way too expensive to replace for a place like this. He had to keep them as long as he could, and I was there to help him with that.

  My big fight was tomorrow, and I couldn’t have been more excited. It wasn’t going to be any different than any other fight in terms of the matchup, with me likely knocking the snot out of the guy, but having it in New York City was the highlight. It meant I wouldn’t have to travel to a different state just to fight. I could do it here, legally, and save money on food and transportation. Not only that, but I knew one of the recruiters was going to be there from the PFC, I just didn’t know what they’d look like or if they’d even come up to me after the bout.

  Everybody was saying I was a shoe-in, especially after a video of me in a match recently went viral online. It only lasted twelve seconds, with me knocking out the guy just barely after we touched gloves and the fight started. I’d always just been able to rail through people and calculate their moves before they made them. My mother always said I was very analytical that way, and I guess that was why I was doing this now. It didn’t hurt that I’d wrestled in high school. I never went to college, but not many in my family actually did. I guess higher education kind of got the better of us.

  I wasn’t supposed to train today, except maybe some very light sparring against the bag, so I could keep up my stamina and not injure myself. Even a strained muscle could throw me off to the point where I wouldn’t be able to win and impress the recruiter, assuming he or she was even there. There were no guarantees with that.

  I wrapped up my wrists and hands before putting on my gloves and starting to spar the bag. I let out a burst of air from my mouth with every strike before sucking it all back in and replenishing the oxygen in my body. That was typical of every fighter, especially during training. It was a good practice that ensured you kept everything working properly during a stressful situation like a fight. My first fight was the worst stress and anxiety I’d ever had, but I kind of loved it.

  I sparred for about thirty minutes, just enough to work up a sweat but not enough to tire me out. I tapped myself out and picked up my things before clocking out. Tino didn’t pay me hourly, or on a salary, really, though he did give me a monthly stipend and used the honor system that I’d do what he asked of me. I never let him down on that one.

  As I walked down the street, my hood up to keep off the rain, I got a craving. I could taste the Colombian roasted coffee I’d had earlier in the week all over my tongue. The weather wasn’t the greatest, my jacket having a hard time repelling the droplets, but I knew I just had to get some.

  My intentions weren’t entirely coffee-driven or pure. I’d been thinking about that girl behind the counter for a couple days now, wondering who she was and what her story was. Maybe she’d be working, and I could ask her out, or just even ask her name or something. She already knew mine, assuming she remembered me.

  I held the door open for an older woman to go inside the café before I walked in myself and saw her behind the counter. She was so cute. They weren’t running that promotion anymore, and it was interesting seeing her less stressed out and sweaty. She was smiling, talking to her coworker, before she noticed me standing in line and became quiet. Did I do something wrong?

  I tried to be nonchalant about it, pretending not to notice her, mostly because I was afraid I was putting her off. Sometimes I had that effect on women, even though I really was a nice guy who was raised right. I guess they saw the height and mass and just assumed I was some aggressive meathead caveman. It was why I didn’t even tell women I fought when we first started going on dates. I eventually told them, but only after they got to know me and saw that I wasn’t some Neanderthal. I guess some women thought a pro, or almost pro fighter, was off-putting. I couldn’t say I blamed them, with the type of fighters that had been in the media the past few years.

  I put in my order and walked behind the old woman to the pickup counter as another woman stood next to my mystery girl and smiled a bit at me and then at her. The girl handed the woman her coffee and I walked up to the front of the line, before the other woman blurted out, “She thinks you’re hot,” and laughed.

  “Lena,” she said, looking awfully embarrassed.

  “She’s not too bad-looking herself,” I said, smiling.

  “See, I told you,” Lena said, nudging her.

  “I’m sorry about her, she just got released from the hospital. Apparently they found her brain-dead,” she said, as Lena laughed.

  “I would ask you your name, but it’s on the cup,” Lena said.

  “Now I can’t have that mysterious aura about me,” I said.

  “No, you still do,” the girl said, smiling with her head down.

  “And what’s your name?” I asked, looking at her.

  “I’m Jessica,” she said, handing me the cup.

  “Hm, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” I said.

  “Thank you,” she said, blushing heavily.

  “I’ll take over if you want to take fifteen and have a chat with Mr. Dreamy,” Lena said.

  “Oh, okay,” Jessica said, her embarrassment obvious and overwhelming.

  She came out from behind the counter, her apron off, before she grabbed a bottle of water and guided me to the furthest table from the counter, which I was guessing was for obvious reasons. “I’m sorry about her, she can be a bit much,” she said.

  “It’s more than okay. I think it’s cute,” I said.

  “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I won’t hold it against you,” she said.

  “Why would I leave?” I asked.

  “She kind of baited you into it,” she said.

  “But I want to sit and talk with you. You’re cute,” I said.

  She didn’t say anything at first, instead blushing a little, before taking a sip of water. “You were wearing some gym shirt last time, right?”

  “Oh, so you do remember me. But yes, I was,” I said.

  “Do you work there?” she asked.

  “Kind of. I guess you could say that,” I said, not technically telling a lie.

  “That’s cool. I just work here for extra money aside from scholarships and grants,” she said.

  “Oh, you’re in school?” I asked.

  “NYU, for history. I want to go for law after I graduated. You?” she asked.

  “I didn’t go,” I said.

  “Oh, well, there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you’re happy. You’re probably not missing out on anything anyway. I can’t stand it half the time, mostly because of the people,” she said.

  “Yeah, work keeps me kind of busy anyway, and I make enough to live, so I’m good for now. I promise I’m not some meathead or anything. It’s not even a typical gym,” I said.

  “What kind of gym is it?” s
he asked.

  “It’s a boxing, MMA fighting-style gym. There are some older machines and free weights and all that, but it’s not like signing up for some twenty-four-hour gym with saunas and tanning and all that. It’s very, how should I say, rustic. Yeah, that’s a nice word for dumpy,” I said, smiling.

  “Ah, I think I know the type,” she said, laughing.

  “The owner is a great guy, though. I think his father even passed it down to him, so there’s that. Not many places like it left in the city,” I said.

  “I’ll have to check it out sometime,” she said.

  “I’d like that,” I replied.

  “Well, I have to get back there,” she said, looking at the clock as more people started coming in.

  “Would it be weird if I asked for your number?” I asked, taking a shot in the dark.

  “Uh, no, not at all,” she said, with an almost surprised tone.

  I gave her my phone and she typed her number in before handing it back. “Remember, if it’s a fake one, I know where you work,” I said, winking before getting up.

  “It’s not,” she said, smiling back.

  “Good,” I replied before grabbing my coffee and heading out the door.

  Did I really just do that? Did I just ask a girl for her number? Granted, she wasn’t some random girl on the street, and she was obviously interested considering how her coworkers were treating her when I came in, but still, it was a first for me. I just wasn’t the dating type, what with training and all. Sometimes you have to sacrifice certain aspects of your life to focus on others, and I always kind of put dating and relationships on the backburner in exchange for career success.

  I caught the C train downtown and got off at Fulton Street before walking the rest of the way to my apartment. It was a fifth-floor walk-up, so I had to deal with a large amount of stairs just to get to my shoebox apartment at the top. The view was decent, and it was pre-war so the noise reduction between units was pretty great for a New York City apartment. Still, I’d much rather be on a ranch in Idaho or something than living in this dump.

  I unlocked my phone and opened Jessica’s contact file before looking at the phone number and making sure it looked legit. I thought about texting her, but wondered if it was too soon. I did have a fight tomorrow night, and I knew Tino would yell at me for getting all googly-eyed right before a big fight, so I just locked my phone. I’d talk to her tomorrow night after the fight, assuming I was in a good mood.

  I ate my sixth meal of the day, eight ounces of tilapia. As I chewed and chewed, it became cotton in my mouth. I told myself that it was for the best and soon I’d be able to eat like a king. Soon.

  Chapter Four

  Jessica

  “So you’re coming tonight, right?” I asked as Taylor walked in the door.

  “Yeah, I just need to get changed. Is this in a nice place?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. Mike gave me the address earlier and I just have it on my phone. I wouldn’t get dressed up for a night at Madison Square Garden, if that’s what you have in mind,” I said.

  Emily was also going and was in her room getting ready as I put on my eyeliner and eye shadow the same way I’d seen in a video online. I’d been getting into those beauty guru videos on YouTube and trying to make myself look as good as possible when I went out, which admittedly wasn’t that often, at least by New York standards. It seemed like people my age were out drinking every night.

  It was a little cold outside, so I wore a black tank top and leather jacket with some dark wash jeans and flats. I couldn’t be bothered to wear heels, and rarely ever did, because I could be a major klutz and usually tipped over in them. I put on some lip-gloss and smacked my lips before grabbing a small bite to eat to tide myself over.

  “We’re going out after, right?” Emily asked.

  “For food? Yeah,” I said.

  “Okay, good,” she yelled from her room.

  “Hear from that guy?” Taylor asked, coming out changed.

  “Nope, not a peep. Kind of makes me wonder if he was serious,” I said, looking at my phone.

  Liam was nice, and super cute, and I thought for sure he was interested after talking to me in the café, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I was just over-thinking it and he was just busy or trying to play hard to get, but I was really hoping I would’ve set up a date with him or something by now. It had been over twenty-four hours.

  We all finished getting ready and shared an Uber to the venue, which was in a warehouse in the Meatpacking District. There were bouncers and music blaring as lights flashed all around and people packed in for the fight. “This is a big thing,” Emily said.

  I texted Mike, seeing if he, Tyler, and Brianne were here yet so we could meet up and say hi, and he replied that they were on their way but to get seats if we could. We found some seats on metal bleachers on one side of the octagon, a massive ring structure with chain link fence as a barrier around it. It was kind of sketchy, but it looked professional enough. This was my first fight, after all. Maybe I just wasn’t in the loop on these kinds of things and how they did it.

  Some of the fights started up, mostly lower weights and lesser-known people, as the bloodshed started and I started to feel myself getting slightly amped up. “This is awesome,” Emily said.

  “Is this even legal?” Taylor asked.

  I found myself rooting for the people, albeit in my head, as I ground my teeth and cheered when somebody won the fight. “Looks like you’re getting into it,” Mike said as they walked up to us.

  “It’s intense,” I said.

  “I knew you’d like it. It can be a little jarring at first, but the primal forces inside you just start pumping,” Brianne said.

  “Has he gone on yet?” Tyler asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Mike said.

  “Who?” Taylor asked.

  “The Rhino, of course. He’s only the hottest fighter out there today. I heard on an MMA news site that he’s going to be signed to the PFC soon,” Mike said.

  “Does he have a real name that’s not The Rhino?” Emily asked.

  “Uh, what is it?” Mike asked, looking at Tyler.

  “Liam something,” Tyler said.

  “Hawthorne. Liam Hawthorne,” Brianne said, with a soft sigh.

  Wait, I thought. I talked to a Liam, and he worked at a gym that he told me did this kind of stuff. It wasn’t, no, it couldn’t be. Why wouldn’t he have talked about it when I asked what he did? You’d think a guy who fought for a living would be proud of it. I was sure it was just a coincidence.

  After another fight, a women’s fight, the announcer came on the loudspeakers and said that the main event between The Rhino and Tigrus would be happening next. “What are those, pro wrestling names?” Emily asked, laughing.

  “Hey, these guys could bend an iron pipe with their pinkies! I wouldn’t make fun of them!” Mike said.

  I waited anxiously as I wondered if the Liam I met was going to walk out inside that thing. I didn’t have an opinion on it, whether good or bad, and I’d still go on a date with him knowing that he did this, but I was kind of hoping that it’d just be another guy.

  Tigrus came out first, with most of the crowd booing him as he put out his arms and basked in the glory that he was creating for himself. The announcer said Liam’s nickname, and the crowd cheered and I bobbed my head around to try to find where he was coming out.

  “Holy shit,” I mumbled as I saw the fighter. It was him.

  He walked out, pumping his fists. His chiseled body was even more attractive than it was through his clothes. I picked my jaw up off the floor, hoping he wouldn’t see me, as I tried to scoot down in my seat and become like a chameleon. Hey, maybe that could be my fighter name.

  The bell rang and the two guys touched gloves before Tigrus came in, guns blazing, swinging left and right at Liam. Liam dodged each and every one of them, not striking back, before Tigrus stumbled and went to the mat. Liam saw his opportunity, getting on his bac
k, slamming him down to the mat, and wrapped his legs around his torso and his arms around his neck.

  Tigrus struggled, trying to get him off, as his face started to change colors and his struggling weakened. Liam cinched harder, trying to get around his pit bull-like neck, before Tigrus passed out and the referee called it. Liam let go, the crowd lost their minds, and he took out his mouth guard before jumping on top of the cage and basking in the victory.

  As he looked around the audience, riling them up to cheer louder, his eyes met mine. My stomach dropped, and I saw a visible reaction on his face. He looked stunned, like he was wondering if I were really here, before some older man snapped him out of it and he went back to cheering, albeit not as loudly as before. I didn’t turn him off, did I? Maybe he didn’t want to see me here, and maybe he didn’t even like me. Did I make a mistake in coming here tonight?

  Liam talked to the older man and pointed up at me before he looked up, confirmed who I was, and nodded. “Are they pointing to you?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “What? Why?” she replied.

  “That’s Liam. That’s the guy I met,” I said.

  “Wait, that huge guy who just won the fight is the guy you met yesterday?” Emily asked.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know he was a fighter, though. He just told me he worked in a gym,” I said.

  “Jessica?” the older man asked as he came up to the stands.

  “Yes?” I asked nervously.

  “Liam would like to see you backstage, if you’d be so kind,” he said.

  “She’d love to go,” Emily butted in.

  “Please come back in about ten minutes or so. I’ll tell security to let you back,” he said before walking back down the stands and out of the area with Liam.

  “Man, I can’t believe you’re seeing that guy. I know I’d feel safe if I were with him,” Mike said.

  “Don’t get too attached,” Brianne said.

  “I’m not seeing him. I met him yesterday and he got my number, but he hasn’t called or texted or anything yet. I wasn’t even sure he was all that interested,” I said.