Drawn to Fight: Zac & Evie

by Lilliana Anderson

  He walks with me until we’re at the entrance to the construction fence cage where they’re opening and closing it to let the fighters inside.

  I hand my shirt to Nelson as one of his goons wraps my hands so I don’t split my knuckles open. It’s a no-holds-barred match. There are no rules. But fighter code says no eye gouging and no ball crushing – fair enough.

  Bouncing my shoulders and rolling my neck, I make sure I’ve got all the kinks out of my body. My ribs are still hurting, so I’m going to have to try and keep them protected. My opponent is a blond guy with super short hair. He’s wearing a pair of those fitted bike short type things that MMA fighters wear on TV. While I get that they’re easier to move in than the black quick dry gym shorts I’m wearing, I don’t really need to see the dude’s junk on display the way it is. I make a mental note not to go to ground at any cost. If this guy gets his knees around my neck, I’m going to get a face full of nuts.

  The announcer stands between us and calls an end to the betting. I glance around and see the frantic wave of those trying to still get their bet in at the last second and a mass of dark curls catches my eye. Immediately, I think it’s Evie, and I can’t look away. I have to see if it’s her. I know I shouldn’t have anything to do with her. At least not until after mum returns to take care of the younger kids. But, I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s on my mind a fuckload and I’m beginning to see her almost everywhere I go - even when she’s not there.

  My mind empties of all thought as this need rises up inside me and I track her as she moves through the crowd. She pauses and speaks to some guy who smiles and places his arm around her shoulders. A pit forms in my stomach as I stare after her, willing her to turn around. Then something catches her attention and she turns toward the cage. It’s not her. I’m both elated and relieved at the same time. That is, until I realise what it was that caught the girl’s attention. It was the word ‘fight’.

  I turn toward my opponent, annoyed at myself for losing focus and I prepare myself a second too late, giving him just enough time to land his first hit. Right in my ribs.

  “Fuck!” I yell, as pain courses through my side, pulsing behind my eyes like an orange-red light of fury. My fist balls up tightly and as I look at him. I want his blood. Growling like an animal, I throw my first punch, using my weight to catapult my fist into the centre of his face. I hear a crunch and his head flips back, a spray of spit and blood, shooting in an arc out of his mouth. I watch in slow motion as his body continues its downward arch and hits the gravel beneath us, and he doesn’t get back up.

  “Winner!” the announcer yells, holding my hand above my head as the crowd both cheers and hisses. I hear a few comments of ‘holy shit’ in there too as the announcer says, “And that’s why he’s called ‘The Hammer’ folks!” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Good job, mate. See if you can give them a show next round though, hey? They’re paying good money to be here.”

  Nodding, I get out of the cage.

  “Holy shit, bro. I didn’t think you were gonna recover from that,” Jason says, handing me my shirt. I don’t put it on, I simply hold it by my side, not wanting anyone to see me wince when I reach my arm over my head.

  A second later, I’m caught by the slapping hands of a very excited Harry Nelson.

  “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You’re the one. The one I’ve been waiting for. We’re going to show them, kid. We’re going to show them all.”

  “Show them what?” I ask, walking along beside him to the fighter’s waiting area.

  “That you can’t keep a good guy down.”

  “I thought you said there weren’t any good guys out here.”

  He laughs and signals for one of his goons to hand me a bottle of water. I’m not thirsty. The fight only lasted a couple of seconds, but I drink anyway.

  “Just keep winning, kid. For you, I’m as good as it gets.”

  Swallowing my mouthful of water, I nod in response, then he turns around to talk to some other promoter or trainer.

  “What the fuck happened to you in the beginning of that fight, bro?” Jason asks quietly so no one else can hear him.

  “I don’t know. I just thought I saw someone.”

  “That girl again?”

  I don’t respond. I just look ahead and take another mouthful of water.

  “Fucking hell. You need to get that out of your head. You could have lost before you even started. You can’t afford a slip up like that again. The next guy could king hit you and then you’ll be screwed.”

  “I’m fine. It won’t happen again,” I insist.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I suggest you go see her, fuck her and get her out of your system then move on. This shit has been going on with you for too long.”

  “You’re such a fucking dick. I’ve been wanting her for years. Going to her and fucking her is definitely going to get her out of my system. You’re a fucking genius. Why didn’t I think of that?” I say sarcastically, shaking my head at him for making such a stupid comment. “Besides, you know that’s not who I am. I don’t go around being a random fucker.”

  He laughs at my comment. “You don’t go around being a random fucker? Then bro, how the hell do you get off? I’ve never known you to have a girlfriend and if you don’t fuck around then…holy shit, you’re not still holding a V card are you?” he asks, looking at me with wide shocked eyes.

  “That’s none of your fucking business. Just back off, alright?”

  “No. I can’t back off. This blows my mind. If you’re still a…” he lowers his voice. “A virgin? Then what the hell have you been doing all these years? How the hell are you getting…relief?” he asks, way too interested in this than he should be.

  “I punch the fuck out of idiots. That’s what I do.”

  Shaking my head, I stalk away from him, annoyed at the interaction.

  “Aw, come on, bro. Don’t be like that,” he calls after me.

  “Go home, Jason. I’ve got this under control,” I shoot back over my shoulder.

  But he just laughs at me, knowing that I don’t have control at all. I don’t have control over anything in my life.

  Eleven

  Evie

  “Bloody hell, Evie! Why isn’t your phone on silent?” Rose moans after being roused from her sleep from the electronic ring on my phone.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot,” I tell her as I quickly answer it before it wakes up the rest of the house. Glancing at the screen before I lift it to my ear, I see that it’s a private number and I sigh. Not again. “If you’re looking for a good time, I don’t have any.”

  “What? No. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  I sit up, the warm rumble of the voice already familiar to me after I committed it to memory from playing our conversations over and over again in my head.

  “Zac?”

  “Yeah, did I wake you?”

  “No. Yeah. No. I mean, it’s OK,” I bumble, talking in a hushed tone as I quickly get out of bed and head down the stairs so I can take the call outside. “Hang on one sec.”

  Pressing the phone to my chest, I make my way to the side sliding door and step out onto our wrap around balcony. The wood is cool against my bare foot and the night air pricks my exposed skin, barely covered by the grey cotton shorts and black singlet that I wear to bed. It washes over me in a chill as I quietly shut the door, setting off the sensor light with my movement. It bathes the whole of our yard in light, and as I lift my phone to my ear, I glance toward the front of the property where I’m sure I can see his van parked across the street.

  “Hey,” I say, padding quietly along the wooden decking, keeping my eyes on the van until I get close enough to be sure it’s his.

  “I’m sorry for waking you.”

  “Are you really?” I laugh.

  “No, actually. Well, maybe a little.”

  I crack a smile and keep the phone pressed to my ear as I walk down my front steps and along the pathway towards his van.


  “Are you ok?” I ask into the handset.

  “No. I don’t know.”

  Reaching the van, I peer inside, seeing him sitting in the driver’s seat with his foot on the dashboard and his head in his hand as he uses the other to press the phone to his ear. He is such a strong looking person that it pulls at my heart to see him looking so vulnerable. To see him fight, you’d think he was filled with confidence and power. But right now, he looks lost.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, folding my free arm across my chest for warmth as I watch him through his window, his hand massaging his temple as if his head is aching.

  “No. I just… I felt like…like I needed you. I don’t know…this is stupid. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  He doesn’t say anything more than that and I can see him struggling before my eyes. I wrack my brain for something that could help him. Something that would make him realise that calling me was the best thing he could do.

  “Would it help if you knew that I wasn’t asleep? I was awake because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I admit, watching as his hand stills and he stops rubbing at his head.

  He lets out a breath and I continue in a whisper. “Does it help you to know that you’re in my dreams? And in my waking thoughts? That I can close my eyes and relive every touch, every look… and that kiss… Do you think about me like that too? Is it just me, or is this crazy, desperate urge going on inside your head too?”

  His hand starts moving again and I hear the rush of his breath over the phone as I see his head nod before he whispers, “Yes.”

  With my heart in my throat, I reach out and try the handle, opening the passenger door. The click draws his attention and he sits up with a start, his long legs quickly returning to the floor of the van. I know that this is all very strange. I should be asking him how he knows where I live, or even how he got my phone number for that matter, but I don’t care. The connection between us is more important to me than some minor details.

  I climb in and sit on the seat beside him, lowering my phone to my lap as I keep my eyes on his. He stares at me, wide eyed as if he can’t really believe I’m here and as the sensor lights from my house click off, we’re bathed in darkness until our eyes readjust to the small amount of light that the street lights give off.

  With my breath held in my chest and my heart pounding in my ears, I reach out and gently cup my hand on the side of his face. I do it timidly, cautiously, as if I’m worried he’s a deer caught in headlights that could realise its mistake and run at any moment.

  He leans into my touch, his eyes closing as his body sighs and I begin to move my fingers in a caress as I slowly release my breath. His hand moves up to hold mine and he turns his head, pressing his lips to my palm. The sensation of his lips on my skin causes my breath to catch again, the heat of it swirling through my body as he moves his mouth and presses his lips to my wrist and then to each of my fingers.

  Drawn in and craving more, I move from my seat and sit on the edge of his, using my other hand to run my fingers through his long dark hair before I meet his eyes and lean in. I pause in front of him, feeling his breath wash over me as I study his gaze, seeing his need and his hunger mixed with pain and fear. I want to take the latter away. I want his eyes to hold nothing but adoration. It’s selfish, but I have this urge to make things right. I have no idea how to do that. But the urge is there none the less. I feel as though Zac belongs with me. I can’t explain why.

  Moving forward that last step, my lips touch his lightly, brushing upward, sucking gently. A light rumble rolls up from within his throat as I slide my tongue between his lips, urging him to give in. Slowly, with a series of moans, he gives in, his mouth moving with mine, our tongues exploring.

  This is nothing like the first time we kissed. That was all surprise and hunger. A claim. This kiss is about accepting what’s here, even though neither of us really understands it. We belong. That’s the one thing I’m sure of. And when our mouths open and our tongues collide, I can see that there’s no turning back. There’s something here that’s bigger than the both of us. Something that makes me quiver like a leaf holding on in the wind, and burn like a raging crown fire. It’s something that makes my mind stop and my body work, answering only to its basal instincts.

  His arms wrap around me as the kiss deepens and I press my body against his firm chest, my arms wrapping around his neck and head, my fingers bunching in the brown of his hair, losing myself entirely in the feeling of his mouth on mine, the taste, the smell, everything.

  Sliding his hands down, his fingers skim along the bare skin between my cotton shorts and my tank top. The heat that runs through my body when his skin touches mine is something out of this world. I want him to touch me more.

  Sliding my leg across his thigh, I move so I’m straddling him, moaning as I feel his arousal through his shorts, his hard length, pressing against my core.

  “Stop,” he growls suddenly, gripping my hips and pulling away, his breath laboured and his expression pained.

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” I gasp, my own chest heaving as I look down on him from where I sit on his lap.

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “You didn’t. It’s just…I think you need to go back inside.”

  Pulling my lips with my teeth, I frown a little, confused when this is always what boys have wanted from me. And here I am, finally ready and willing after years saying no. Finally feeling one hundred per cent ready to be intimate and to trust…I don’t understand why he’s pushing me away.

  “You don’t want me?” I ask, pulling back to slide off his lap and return to the passenger seat.

  “Of course I do. You just rubbed against how much I want you. I just don’t want you here, like this. That’s not what I came here for.”

  “Then what did you come here for?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I came to see you. I just wanted to see you.”

  “And now that you’ve seen me?”

  “I want to see you a whole lot more.”

  “I can probably handle that,” I smile.

  Grinning back, he reaches out and touches my face briefly. “Can I call you again?”

  “Yeah, you can. I’d like that.”

  Leaning forward, he presses his lips softly to mine, causing my mind to spin, feeling dizzy from the high he evokes in me.

  “Me too,” he whispers. Then he pulls back and I climb out of the car, grinning as he waits for me to get back inside the house and watching until he drives away. Then I spend the night awake, my heart feeling full as I think about him and wonder when he’ll call.

  Except he doesn’t. He doesn’t call at all.

  PART TWO

  ‘Determination becomes obsession and then it becomes all that matters.’

  Jeremy Irvine

  Twelve

  Evie

  Quietly, I approach the figure I saw from my car. I’d all but given up on thinking I’d see him again. But when I pulled into the parking lot at the primary school where Keith and Annalise go, I felt sure that I saw him standing against the fence, looking down at his phone. “Zac?” I’m not even sure if I should approach him or how he’s going to react to me. It’s been over a month since I last saw him. I should probably just take the hint and leave him alone. But I don’t think I can. Just like I couldn’t stop myself from stupidly waiting and hoping for my phone to ring, or from going out to Londonderry and hoping to see him there. And of all the places I looked, this is the last place I ever expected him to be.

  I’m only here because I’ve finished school for the year, and I’m keeping busy by helping mum and dad out while I wait out the results of my final exams. Not that I think they’re going to be any good. Waiting around for Zac Rivers to call me seriously messed me up. I became this self-doubting mess of a girl, all because I liked a boy, and I wanted him to like me. I felt like he saw me as this wanton girl who climbed into the lap of any guy who shows interest, and I just wanted to talk
to him. To maybe explain that’s not how I am. That I haven’t been with as many guys as they say. He needs to understand that. I don’t want him to see me like the others…

  When he turns around, the light hits his silken brown hair and all I want to do is reach up and touch it. Then, at the same time, I have the urge to run in the opposite direction. Instead, I hold my breath, steeling myself for whatever reaction he gives me.

  This was probably a really bad idea. After the way I threw myself at him in his van, he probably doesn’t want to talk to me again.

  I expect a scowl or at least a look of confusion. But he smiles when he sees me. There’s a sadness to it, but it still makes me feel as though I’m the exact person he wants to see. It’s strange. Everything about Zac and me is strange, because I feel like I know him. But I don’t know him at all. My stomach tightens at the sight of him, and I get the feeling that I really am right where I should be as well. It’s as if we belong. The month of waiting and embarrassingly pining falls away, replaced with that pull that emanates between us.

  “Hey,” he says, his hand moving like he wants to touch me but he pulls it back.

  “I thought you forgot who I was,” I comment, coming to stand in front of him but keeping a step back so I can think.

  “How could I forget you? You’re the girl who makes the world stop.” His expression grows serious, and I pull at my lip with my teeth, wanting to say so much to him but not knowing how to start. He confuses the hell out of me.

  “And yet you still can’t make a phone call?”

  His lips pull up in a grim smile, and his brow furrows, looking pained. “You don’t want me, Evie. My life is far too messed up, and I don’t think I should get you mixed up in my world.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a decision for me to make?”

  A silence falls between us as unspoken words hang in the air. Despite my doubts when I’m not around him, I know he likes me just as much, if not more, than I like him – I can feel it in our interactions, see it in his body language. But he’s fighting it for some reason. And I don’t know why.