by Dawn Doyle
I walked downstairs and took the phone from my mom. “Yeah?”
“How are you? How’s school?”
“Well, Grace,” I breathed out, then took a second to collect my thoughts. “It’s been a nightmare, thanks to your party.” I tightened my lips, trying hard not to release my temper on her. I’d done that after the first two days, but in my room all by myself. I’d blamed her for insisting she threw me a party, I blamed her for fooling me into thinking it was going to be tame, and I blamed her for letting that guy throw me in the pool. If he hadn’t, I would never have needed to go off where Lucian could get to me while I was alone.
“Come on, Luca,” she complained. “Nobody was to know you would get embarrassed like that. And if I’d seen what was—”
“Embarrassed?” I asked, my voice raising. “That’s rich. He basically laughed in my face, Grace. Everybody saw, and now they’re talking about me.”
“I tried to warn you, babe, you know that. I told you those guys were trouble and not to mix with them.”
“Then why the hell do you invite them?” I yelled. “If they’re so bad, why would you have them in your house?”
“Because, if you must know, they’re my friends. I don’t give a shit if what they do causes crap for somebody else—they know what they’re getting into with them—but you don’t know them, and you don’t know what they’re like, so I was trying to protect you.”
I slid down the wall, closing my eyes and resting my elbow on my knee with my forehead in my hand. “I thought he was sweet when he saved my life.”
“Excuse me?”
I hadn’t told anybody about what had happened, and neither had my mom after she’d told my dad. She said it was too traumatizing to think about, so we never spoke about it again. I could tell when it was going through her mind, though. Her eyes would glisten, her lips would turn down in the corners, but after a moment or two, she would smile, and I knew what part of that day she was remembering, and I did, too.
“A few weeks ago,” I began, then relayed what he’d done for me. If it weren’t for the ingrained memories of his gorgeous eyes, the same perfect lips, and the heart melting dimples, I would swear the Lucian that day and the Lucian at the party were two different people.
“Oh.”
I was taken aback. “Oh? Is that it? Grace, I could’ve died.”
“What do you want me to say? Luca, I’m so glad he saw you when he did, I really am, but that doesn’t change anything.”
Oh, I was definitely aware of that. “I gotta go, Grace.”
We ended the call and I went back to sulking in my room. Was I being overdramatic? God, yes, I was being a complete drama queen, but what my heart, my gut, and my self esteem had gone through from that one ridiculously minute thing, I couldn’t help but let those emotions rise to the surface.
I liked him, and I was stupid enough to let my guard down when I thought he might’ve liked me too.
Lucian
“What in the actual fuck, Brady?” I yelled when he’d finally filled me in on the fucking details. “Why didn’t you tell me that was Luca?”
Brady shrugged and held out his hands. “I didn’t know who she was,” I could see a grin tugging at his soon-to-be fat lip, “and I thought you didn’t too?”
“Don’t fucking push me, not today, Brady.”
“What the hell crawled up your boxers and bit your dick?”
Since the scene in the parking lot, I’d wanted to find out what Luca was accusing me of, and what Grace had said. I knew damn well who I was, what I did, but telling her cousin shit about me? That was not okay. Add to that, I had to find out that the girl my brother was checking out was Luca, and the others had made jokes who was gonna get to the new girl first. No fucking way was I gonna let that slide.
“You know damn well what, dickhead.” I moved closer to him, his smile growing wider as I closed in. “Luca,” I growled, “was the girl on the beach, okay? So that’s how I know her.”
He batted his eyes at me. “Aww, dimples saved her life and now he’s got a hard on for her.”
Every muscle in my body tensed, my heart thudded violently against my chest, and right then, it was though I was in the pit. The crowd waiting for me to strike, my opponent goading me into action, taunting me so I would lose my shit and make a mistake. I slammed my palm against my brother’s neck, wrapping my fingers around his throat. I squeezed just a little, and all humor dissolved from his face, his eyes wide and terrified. He gripped onto my forearm, trying to pull me off.
My eyes shot down to what I’d done, and I dropped my hand. I turned away from him as he coughed and rubbed the red mark I’d left behind. I’d never lost it like that with Brady, never once had I wanted to hurt him like that, but saying those things about Luca…
“What was that for?” he said in a tight voice. “What the hell has gotten into you? She’s just a girl—”
I spun around, glaring at him with my fists still clenched by my sides. “Don’t. Just fucking don’t.”
I stood there, my hands against the cold tiles while the water cascaded over my body, easing some of the tension that rippled through me, allowing my shoulders to loosen so I could get rid of the massive headache caused by pent up aggression.
I was so fucking glad to be out tonight, because I needed to get rid of whatever the hell it was inside of me that couldn’t think about anything but Luca Marsden.
I dried off, grabbed my shit and walked out. Brady, Nate, Charlie, and Blaine stood by the car, my silent entourage not speaking as we got in and headed to the old abandoned market.
“You got this,” Blaine said as he stood in front of me. I continued to wrap my hand, the long fabric covering each knuckle and weaving between my fingers. “Don’t think about anything else but putting him down,” he said.
I looked up, and yanked the last of the wrap. “What else would I be thinking about, Blaine?” I asked calmly, refusing to let my temper flare even the tiniest bit.
He ran his hand over his almost-white hair, the light color making him glow under the old rusty hat-shaped lamp. “Nothing in particular,” he replied, but when his eyes darted to the left, it showed his bullshit. “Just keeping in the moment.”
“Uh huh.” I blew out a quick breath, and took the wrap for my other hand, pushing my thumb through the loop, and slowly covering my hand from knuckles to wrist. The deep-red disguised any blood, and probably still held a few unnoticeable stains deep within the fibers. I stood, and Blaine stepped back.
Charlie took his place. “Chill the fuck out, pussy,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. My eyebrows shot up, my mouth quirking in the corner. “Stop being a bitch, and go fuck shit up, okay?” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Now go do your thing, Luscious.”
I turned toward the door where Brady and Nate stood together. I stared at Nate, and he just nodded. I eyed my brother.
He lifted a hand, wrapped it around the back of my neck and pulled me toward him, pressing his forehead against mine. “We’re good, okay?” he whispered. I nodded against him. “There’s nothing we can’t do, dimples, right?” I nodded with him. “So you go out there, and you work out your shit on him.”
I pulled back, and bumped fists with Brady, my half smile not reaching my eyes. “Fuck, yeah.”
I walked down the dimly lit corridor to the sounds of my fighting name being chanted. Luscious! Luscious!
I didn’t know where that had come from, but as soon as Luscious Lucian had taken hold, my actual name was dropped soon after. Lucian didn’t exist the second I stepped into that pit.
“Don’t be fooled by his pretty face, folks, this luscious man will show you things that will have you screaming his name long after this is over!” The voice from the fight commentator boomed out over the speakers as she held onto the mic.
Darcy was a living nightmare. The moment I made an appearance through the brick archway, the sounds of metal slamming behind me, she looked over and I cringed, bile rising to my th
roat when she winked at me. Nothing had ever happened between us, but she sure made it sound like it had, and took great pleasure in making sure the crowd thought we were fucking like rabbits at any chance she got.
“I can tell you this, ladies and gentlemen, this fighter will rock your world like never before.” She licked her dark tinted lips. “And if you’re having the pleasure of seeing him again, it only gets better.” Her breathy tone mimicked Marilyn Monroe, but instead of oozing Hollywood sex appeal, it was more like street corner skank.
My stomach clenched as she threw her head back and laughed, then swayed as though she was giving me a damn good look at the goods, but all I saw was the spawn of the fucker who hid behind a closed door while monitoring every move we made.
The crowd went wild when my opponent walked out from his tunnel, his head almost scraping the top. I looked up to the people yelling Crusher, and it was clear what he intended to do to me. He stood opposite my side of the circle, glaring, calculating, with an inane grin on his face.
I cocked my head to the side, and narrowed my eyes. “Are you going to just stare at me all night?” I mocked, wiping the smile off his face.
“I’m gonna fuck you up,” he threatened.
The bell sounded and he bolted toward me, our fists up preparing for our collision. His right arm swung around, but he was slow. I ducked, jabbing my arm forward and pounding my fist into his ribs, crossing to his face when he shot back. My knuckles crashed against his cheek, and his head twisted to the side as he stumbled backward.
“Lucky shot,” he growled, and came for me again.
He stopped just before making his move, lifting his leg as though about to throw a kick, and I swayed to the side to dodge. It was a ruse. He thundered forward, throwing his head toward me, his head slamming into mine, sending me staggering back. I shook my head to clear my double vision, trying to focus on which guy I was going to beat down. The images of him merged together, but not before he swung his large fist, smashing it across my jaw. I heard my jaw crack as pain spread out through the left side of my face, my pulse rushing in that area as though telling me to wake the fuck up.
I squared myself, ready for him. His arm swung again, and I bolted forward into his open space, blocking him and circling my arm around his. I yanked upward, lifting and arching my back while increasing the pressure, extending his elbow and over stretching the ligaments in his shoulder. His mouth opened wide, and he yelled out as I forced his arm to bend the way it was never intended. He lifted his head, gauging me, but before he could fight back with his free hand, I brought up my other fist and slammed it down onto his nose. His head fell to the side, jerking back and forth as I rained blow after blow down on his face, my wrist pumping as it took the force of my attack.
Crusher fell down, and I released him, blood pouring from his flattened nose and split mouth, decorating the dull and gravelly ground with its splashes. He wiped the back of his hand across his swelling face, smearing it, then swiped at the drips on his bloated bare chest.
“You’re dead, kid.”
I lifted my fists, turning my hips and pushing my weight on my back leg, my stance ready for the poor bastard that had no clue what was about to happen.
He threw a punch, his sweat flicking over me as his hand neared my face. I swiped, ready to make my strike, but he had other ideas. His free hand flew around, the side of his closed fist cracking me to the side of the head, knocking me off balance, and the ringing in my ear momentarily blocked out the cheers from the raucous crowd. I spun back, gearing my self up, ready for his next move. Crusher yelled, his blood spattered face screwed up, his rage evident.
He swung, I blocked and ducked, ready for his attack. I threw my fist for a cheap kidney shot, and he bent sideways at the waist as I struck again. He turned, coming at me, and I took my chance, the one I knew would put him down. I extended my front leg, and the second my sole landed on his thigh, I pushed off my back foot, lifting myself up and rounding my hip, aiming for the sweet spot that would put him down.
My knee connected with the side of his jaw, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of shit.
All I could hear was my name being screamed out loud, fists banging on the rail, feet stamping on the concrete floor surrounding me from above. I looked up through the dripping strands hanging down over my forehead, right at Darcy. Her sly smile spread across her face before she lifted her hand and blew me a sickening kiss.
Crusher moaned at my feet, coming to and pushing himself up while shaking his head.
“And Luscious is victorious once again,” Darcy purred down the mic, calming the blood-maddened room. “He always hits the spot.” She laughed, throwing her head back while fingering the low neckline of her dress.
The gate behind me opened, and I turned around to head back to my cell-like room, ready to pick up my cash and get the fuck out of there.
“Two thousand dollars,” Larry said, handing over a thin white envelope. His smug grin grated on my fucking nerves every time I picked up my winnings. Arrogant fucker got at least a half-mil per fight, and that was what we knew about. I looked inside. Sure enough, all one hundred dollar bills. I gritted my teeth, hunching my shoulders and turned to the doorway. “Oh, and like I’ve said before,” he added, and I looked over my shoulder. “Darcy seems to like you a lot, and if she’s happy, I’m happy, and that means better stakes for you.” He winked and my skin crawled as my hackles rose. Fuck. That. I was not going to touch that bitch for a few extra bucks. “Date’s in the envelope, kid. I’ll be in touch.”
“I am not taking your money!” Brady said when I offered it to him. “Jesus, Lucian, how many times do I have to tell you? You get into that pit, not me. I don’t do a damn thing but watch.” I took a deep breath then slowly released it. “Look at your face, bro—your knuckles… You get every fucking cent that bastard gives you, ya hear me?” He would accept five hundred, mainly for being by my side through my training, making sure I was ready, and giving me space when I needed to cool off. It was a pay out he’d agreed on when I got into this.
I screwed up the extra five hundred bucks in my hand and pressed it against his chest. “Just fucking take it, ass wipe.” He had to. A thousand couldn’t repay him for what I’d done, but it was a start.
He stared at me for a second before sighing and taking the bills from my hand. “Fine, but not because it’s guilt money.” He turned away and then opened his closet door, reaching to the back where he had a small safe. “You know I own my shit, dimples. Even though I can’t even begin to know what was going through your head, I know damn well that seriously hit a raw nerve.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and leant against his door frame, not opening my mouth. He walked back over to me, placed his hand on my shoulder, and waited until I lifted my eyes to his. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
I shook my head, and my lips twisted into a half smile. “I don’t.”
Chapter 5
Luca
“Thank you.” I ended the call and waited for the text to come through saying that my number had changed.
The calls had gotten way outta hand. It was like those TV shows and movies where everybody miraculously knows everybody’s number, even though they don’t even talk or hang out. Except, this was a little different. They knew my number, but I didn’t know theirs. Somebody had passed it around, I knew that much, and the only other person I’d given it to was Paige.
“I am sorry,” she said beside me. “Abby, asked for it and said she was going to call you about joining the swim team.” She looked down to her feet and then back up. “I don’t know why she gave it out, Luca, you have to believe me.”
Abby had passed it around, and they’d passed it on, too. It was the same day I was getting calls from people who wanted the details on Lucian and his group, asking questions about the party, and some guys asking for dates and getting pissed when I told them to fuck off.
I let my head fall back. “It’s done with now, Paige,” I replied f
or the second time that day. “But if this new number gets out, I swear to God…”
“You can trust me, Lu,” she assured me. “I wont tell anybody I have it.” As soon as the text came through, I passed over my number to her, and she entered my name as Elle Emm. “It’s actually your initials.”
I smiled at her. “I got that.” They were also his. Every time I wrote my name, the first three letters catapulted him into my mind. When I wrote my initials, he was there again. For somebody I’d met three times in my entire life, he’d managed to work his way under my skin, and not for the right reasons. “Anyway, this pizza isn’t gonna eat itself, so lets take this through and play that movie.”
Halfway through Pitch Perfect Three, Paige’s phone rang. She looked it and rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, my brother’s calling me. Hang on.” I paused the movie while she answered. “Scott, I’m at Luca’s house. We’re watching a movie. Why can’t you call a cab? You’re such an asshole, Scott.” She hung up and groaned. “I have to go and pick up my wasted brother. He has no money for a cab, and he’s been kicked out of the bar.”
I burst out laughing then slapped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious. What did he do to get himself thrown out?”
“He was an idiot, that’s what. As soon as he starts drinking, he thinks he’s a big man and picks fights with people who look at him twice. Stupid ass has had more black eye’s than the peas.”
I held back my laugh again. Paige was funny, and had been great to me since we’d met. Apart from the number incident, which I don’t blame her for, she was sweet. Then there was me. Since starting West Norton, I hadn’t felt like myself; I didn’t like the person I was when I was there. I’d become bitchy, intolerant, and pretty much the stereotype for hormonal teen girls. That was not me.
“Well, I think you better pick him up in case he gets himself arrested.”
She nodded quickly. “Yeah. God knows what’ll happen. He might take a swing at a cop, and then he’ll be truly fucked,” she said while picking up her school bag. “See you tomorrow, Lu, and don’t watch the rest of the movie without me.”