Triplets Make Five: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Baby Romance

by Nicole Elliot

  The first week without Jake had been hard; chocolate wrappers and liquor bottles littered my bedroom floor, and a few of my sorority sisters had threatened to throw me in the water themselves if I didn’t shower soon. But after that I got my shit together. I went to the on-campus doctor and got an STD test. Luckily I had been in the clear. I would never really know if Jake had been with other girls, and a part of me still thought that I probably couldn’t handle the truth.

  I looked into the mirror again, applying mascara on my heavily shadowed lid. My long dark hair framed my face with its natural curls flowing down to the middle of my back. This was going to be my last semester of college. I was graduating, and I had absolutely no plans. Everything had hinged on Jake and what his career would do for us. He wanted to be involved in politics, and I’d always liked the sound of being a first lady. Preparing functions and dressing well were things that I was good at. I’d been raised in that way. My father had become governor of the state of New York when I was only twelve; for a while I thought the presidency might be in our future. But after his accident, things had changed. Now we were just a typical well-off family with a lake house and nice cars, and no real friends. That was the only thing that worried me about the political life: I would never really know who was in it for me. I hadn’t even known my boyfriend well enough to know that he wasn’t.

  I rubbed blush on the tops of my cheeks and grabbed my light pink lipstick. Getting ready for class was harder these days, as I was always trying to impress the other senior guys, or even a graduate student. I had to find a new boyfriend at some point, and three months had been a long enough time for me to be celibate. I was just about to rush out the door to my first class of the semester when my roommate, Naomi, walked in.

  “Damn! You look good for 9 AM.”

  She tossed her messenger bag on her bed and lay back, allowing the soft sheets to absorb her. She never made her bed; it was just one of those things you had to accept about her.

  “And you look exhausted. Another late night out, with… What’s his name?”

  She sat up with a broad smile on her face. I was still getting used her new haircut, a fierce, dark purple pixie cut, but it fit her personality well. It would’ve been easier to accept, except that she’d been blonde with shoulder length hair for the past three and a half years. Something changed her over Christmas break, but she hadn’t talk about it yet, and I wasn’t one to pry.

  “I think his name is Elliott, or maybe Eli? God, you know I’m terrible with names!”

  I laughed at her, “No, I know you’re terrible with boys. So I guess it’s not that serious yet? How are your mom and dad going to feel about that?”

  “You know sometimes I think all that they want is for me to get married. But then I do get serious with some guy, like remember that one guy, Dean? I really liked him. But when I brought him home they got all weird. ‘You’re too young to get married. Don’t settle for anyone. Make something of your career first.’ I don’t get it. It’s like I hear from my mom that my internal clock is ticking and my dad on the other hand wants me to have this long fabulous career before I make any real decisions.”

  I shrugged and took a look at the time on my phone. Jake’s face was still in the background. I sighed heavily. “As much as I would love to discuss your early life crisis right now, I have to get to class.”

  “I’ll walk downstairs with you. I didn’t get anything for breakfast before my first class. And if you think I didn’t notice the sad, sappy eyes about your phone, you’re wrong. You’ve got to get rid of Jake as your background.” She stood up and crossed the room, quickly snatching the phone from my hands. She took a quick selfie of her making a duck face. “Here. Now when you look at your phone, you’ll see fabulous me. And you’ll laugh every time.”

  I looked to see that she had set herself as the background, and she was right, that would put a smile on my face.

  She opened the door and I followed her out into the main hallway of our sorority. The first day of classes and for some reason it was eerily quiet. “Do you think people missed their first class?”

  Naomi shrugged as she quickly descended the stairs. “I mean, all of our freshmen are in their second semester now. Besides them, most people don’t have early classes like you and I.”

  That was true. And the only reason that she and I had early classes was because we had a few classes to take to meet graduation requirements. Things that we had missed our freshmen and sophomore years because we had been more focused on our majors. Naomi was in graphic design and photography, while I was a business major. How we got along so well always seemed to surprise people. But we were best friends, having rushed together freshman year, entering the sorority in the same pledge class. We just knew that we needed one another for survival. Sororities on our campus were cutthroat to say the least, even though hazing was no longer an option. Bad things could still happen to girls. I was glad that I had nothing to do with the rushing anymore, not since I’d been a pledge myself. I attended the ceremony each year when we invited new pledges to become full-fledged sisters, but besides that, I just liked living in the house with the girls. It had been my home away from home since I had come to BU.

  “Well I’ll see you around lunchtime. I want to try to get into that English literature class. I have the space in my schedule, so I figure why not?”

  She gave me a look. “Because maybe it’s your last semester and you should finally slow down.”

  I shrugged as I walked out the door, “I’ve got to fill my time with something!”

  “I can think of something,” I heard her mutter as I shut the door.

  Naomi totally thought I should start screwing any guy with two legs. Anyone with a penis was on the shortlist for her. But she had a reason. Her parents had been stuck on this “you need to have children before you’re twenty five” for years. Her Jewish, New Yorker mother, who was completely hilarious and the best cook, was a bit overbearing. But I got that she got on Naomi’s case a lot of times. It made her crazy. And her dad, he was the complete opposite. All he wanted her to do was have a strong career and forget about men. Honestly sometimes I wondered if he thought it would be easier if she was a lesbian. It was something our fathers had in common.

  My dad had always been on the career track. Honestly, I don’t even think he thought I would go to college. By this time we were supposed to be living in the White House. But there was an assassination attempt on my father’s life when I was sixteen. He was running for president and was shot on the campaign trail. Everyone just refers to it as “his accident,” but it was a life-changing event. The bullet had just nipped part of his spine, but it had left him paralyzed from the waist down, and our lives hadn’t been the same since. He had to give up his campaign, and soon after he couldn’t handle being governor anymore either. It was just too much stress, and it wasn’t good for his health. My mother had been the glue that had kept the family together—she stood by his side through all of it. Not that I would’ve expected any less of her. But now our Christmas cards looked a little bit different, my father in a wheelchair my mother standing with her hand on his shoulder. It was a complete role reversal for them, but they seem to be making it work, and for that I was truly happy. My younger brother I think had secretly never wanted to move to the White House, so he was glad to just be running around and drinking and partying as much as he could before he graduated high school next year. I was supposed to be an only child, hence the age gap.

  As I settled into my seat in my first class of my last semester of college, I thought about the fact that I still didn’t have a plan. There were tons of sophomores and juniors filtering in around me who still had a year or two to make some decisions. I had less than four months to completely get my life back on track. I opened my laptop and sent Naomi an email.

  We need to work on my résumé tonight. I’ll grab a bottle of wine after dinner.

  She sent me a message back just a couple minutes later, which surpris
ed me. I figured she’d already laid down for a nap after breakfast.

  No bueno. That guy I’m seeing? Apparently he’s really into MMA fighting and got some tickets for a fight tonight. We are going out.

  I pulled out my cell phone as a professor was droning on about the syllabus for the semester and sent her a text.

  We? As in the two of you? Or the two of us?

  We as in Elliott and me, his friend Josh, and you. It is time to get back on the horse.

  I noticed I was getting a hairy eyeball from the professor who had more hair in his eyebrows than he did on his head and I shut my phone off and slipped it back into my bag. A date? At some fight? I’d never been to a fight in my entire life. And why would some guy think that that would be a good date? Watching a couple other super-hot guys with their shirts off beating the shit out of each other? As much as I would enjoy the view, it didn’t really seem like a good place to get to know someone. But maybe that’s exactly what I needed. Maybe Josh was just a distraction that would help me get my life back on track.

  THREE

  DILLON

  “Are you ready?”

  “I’m always ready. The question is if the other guy is or not.”

  Leo smiled at me in a fatherly sort of way. I hadn’t known my own dad, and my mom had enrolled me in boxing when I was just a kid. Leo had taken over that role for me. He taught me what was to be a fighter, he took care of me. When the other guys joined gangs, I just spent more time at the gym. It was where I was safe, protected from the outside world. From the streets.

  My best friend was shot and killed when I was seventeen. He went to a party, it was a Friday night, and I was at the gym getting a workout in. I’d wanted to go to that party so badly, but Leo wouldn’t let me. He booked a fight the next morning specifically so I wouldn’t be able go out with my friends. I was so pissed at him. And then I got a call on my walk home that there’d been a drive-by and my friend was dead. I remember my mother crying hysterically, asking me again and again if I’d been there, if I’d seen anything. I didn’t answer her. I just ran through the dark streets until I got home and I let her fall into my arms, and I held her while she sobbed.

  I cried at his funeral.

  It was the last time I had ever shed a tear.

  Fighters don’t cry.

  “Any idea what the purse is tonight? Mom’s really been wanting a new car, but the payments are just too much for her. I want to put money down so that she doesn’t have worry about it.”

  Leo smiled at me. “It’s five grand. Same as always, 50-50 split between the gym and you. I think a nice $2500 down payment should do the trick.” He put his arm around me, “It’s a good thing that you’re doing for your mom. But remember to spend a little on yourself sometimes, okay?”

  I looked at him blankly, “What do I have to spend it on?”

  “If you don’t dodge his right hook, new teeth for one.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.”

  He nodded at me. “I’m sure you do, kid. I’m sure you do.”

  He walked away and I started bouncing on my feet, loosening up my muscles. He would come back for me in about an hour, but he always left me to my own thoughts right before a fight. He knew I needed the time to myself to get out of my own head and into my opponent’s. I would take this guy down, just like all the others.

  FOUR

  BERKLEY

  “So what time are these guys picking us up?” I asked as I changed my shirt and looked for a set of boots to wear.

  “Actually, we’re meeting them there. I figured we could catch a cab to head downtown. No reason for us to drive, and I doubt that we’d find parking anyway. We’re meeting them outside to grab our tickets, and then we’ll go in together.”

  I gave Naomi a look. “Some date. First I don’t even know this guy’s last name, and now you’re telling me he’s not even coming to pick me up. You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

  She sighed. “Hey, I pick them for their good looks, not their brains.”

  “Touché.”

  We called a cab and arrived at the fight only an hour later. Naomi immediately recognized her date and waved the guys over to us. She was right, Elliott was easy on the eyes. He was taller than both of us with darker skin, pale blue eyes, and black hair. His thick arms made me feel safe in an unknown place. Josh was on the leaner side, with light blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He had on a tight T-shirt and dark jeans, a little less preppy than I typically went for, but maybe that was exactly what I needed. He offered me my ticket but didn’t say much else besides introducing himself. I figured once he got a couple beers in him I would learn a lot more about what he was like.

  As we made our way through the crowd, I felt like the walls were caving in. The place was packed, and it was hard to get to our seats. The guys grabbed us beers as we walked past something that resembled a concession stand, and we carried them as we made our way to our chairs. No one was sitting; everyone was out cheering and yelling for whatever fighters were currently in the ring. It was like a cage match. Chain-link fence coming up around the sides, I’d never seen anything like it except on television. The atmosphere was intoxicating, though. You could just feel the tension in the crowd waiting for the knockout. I watched as a guy with a bloodied eyebrow circled the man in front of him, lifting his knee up to kick him in the ribs. The guy dodged him, but just barely before landing a right hook on the first guy’s face. It didn’t take long after that for the guy who dodged the kick to have the other guy on the ground beating the shit out of him. I guessed it was over when the referee held up that guy’s hands. Some people yelled loudly, while others looked disappointed.

  “I guess people bet on these things?” I said to Josh.

  “Yep. I have money on the next guy coming up. Dillon Jackson, one of the best fighters in the state. Nobody can beat this guy. And hopefully I’ll make some money off of him tonight.”

  “How do you know that he’s good to bet on? I mean it looks like these guys get hurt pretty easily.”

  He took a swig out of his plastic cup. “Not Dillon. Guy had a shoulder injury a couple years ago. Wasn’t even supposed to be able to write, but somehow he managed to work through the pain and now is some big shot around here. People say he’s in the prime of his fighting career. He’s not going to get any better than he is now.”

  I looked out into the cage and I saw two new fighters. They had announced them when Josh and I were talking. I wasn’t sure who they were, but by the look of intent on Josh’s face this was the fight that he was betting on.

  “Which one is the fighter you were talking about? The one with the shoulder injury?”

  He pointed to the guy on the right. An almost like the fighter had heard him he turned and looked in our direction. He was almost bald with a shaved head and piercing gray eyes. Half of his upper body was covered in tattoos, including some type of quote on his arm. His six pack was clearly defined and his arms were bigger than my head. He wasn’t an abnormally large guy, just built of pure muscle. When his eyes caught mine my heart stopped for a moment. There was something about him that was just so damn attractive that I couldn’t look away. I had gone from someone who had never been to a fight before, to a hard-core MMA luster.

  Josh spoke again and pulled me out of my daydreaming. “The other guy’s Armando Garcia. He’s pretty good, probably will give Dillon run for his money. He breaks a lot of bones.”

  I shook my head. “In his opponents?” Suddenly I was concerned for Dillon’s well-being.

  “In anybody. He does underground fights too. It’s where gangs bet on each other’s best guys. Elliott and I stay the hell away from those places. If your bet is off, or if you don’t have the money, you could get yourself killed. We only go to legit fights. Those guys are way too intense. Not to mention, fighters get killed, regularly. I’m not into that kind of blood bath.”

  I couldn’t imagine why some underground streetfighter was in a pr
o match. It didn’t make any sense to me, but I still didn’t know much. I watched with anxious tension as the fight began. I was hoping that Dillon would come out the victor. But it wasn’t because I wanted Josh to win his bet, but because I wanted to see Dillon succeed. Something about those eyes just drew me in, and I was hooked.

  I watched Dillon duck a few punches before landing a blow to his opponent’s face. He bounced around on his heels, so quick on his feet he couldn’t be touched. The other guy wiped the blood from his lip and put his hands back up in fighting stance. He waited for Dillon to make another move. Dillon waited too, like a lion for his prey. When the other guy had enough he slowly advanced, only to be shut down when Dillon delivered a round house kick. The guy fell back, but was quickly back up on his feet. This back and forth went on for five minutes or more, but it felt like hours. Finally Dillon’s arm was in the air and the crowd was chanting his name. He had won. A final blow to the other guy’s face had landed him on the ground, and he wasn’t getting back up.

  Dillon bounced around the cage a few more times. Forgetting I was on a date, I squeezed through the crowd to congratulate him. I just wanted to meet him, and maybe touch him. When I got to the front there was a throng of girls waiting for him. He signed a few autographs and wiped sweat from his head. He smiled at a few, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Finally he got to me.

  “Great fight,” I said cheerfully.

  He stopped and looked at me. “Thanks. What’s your name?”