The Way We Are

by Shandi Boyes

  The unnatural rhythm of my heart gains an extra thump when she cranks her neck in my direction. Although the disappointment in her eyes is as strong as ever, there's a dash of panic as well. From the way it grows the longer she stares at me, anyone would swear she's worried about me.

  If she is, she has no reason for concern. I might be a few inches shorter than Axel and a few pounds lighter, but I’ve got something Axel will never have. I have my morals guiding me.

  “If you're doing this in the hope of winning her over, I hate to tell you, you are way out in left field.”

  I return my eyes to Isaac, who is eyeballing Savannah as intently as me.

  “Why?” Immaturity echoes in my tone.

  It’s not a ruse for him to explain my strange emotions. I honestly don’t know what he means.

  Isaac drops his eyes to me, their unique gray coloring brightened by the fluorescent lighting hanging above our heads. “Because you can’t show someone how ugly another person is by revealing your own ugliness.”

  His eyes remain locked on mine as he nudges his head in Savannah’s direction. Although I don’t follow his gaze, I know she’s still watching me. I can feel it in my bones.

  “She looks at you that way because everything she sees in you, she wishes she saw in him. Until you unearth her true motives for staying with him, lowering yourself to his level won’t do you any favors. Not in her books anyway.”

  “You said coming here would help me win her back,” I snap, my tone thickened with annoyance.

  Isaac shakes his head. “I never said you should fight. Replay the events of the last thirty minutes, Ryan. Not once did I encourage you to fight. I brought you here so you’d have an understanding of why she is with him.”

  I’m more confused now than I ever was. How the fuck can discovering she’s dating a mafia kingpin’s nephew help me in any way? It only makes matters worse.

  “You can watch a man for hours and not hear a single thought,” Isaac mutters, squaring his shoulders. “But when you glance into the eyes of a woman in love, the conversation is nearly deafening.”

  Bile scorches my throat as my eyes rocket back to Savannah. Does that mean what I think it does? Does Isaac believe she is in love with Axel?

  Catching my heated gaze, Savannah reverts her attention to Axel, albeit hesitantly. Although she surveys him with the same panic, her eyes are missing the dramatic flair they had when she was watching me.

  “She doesn’t love him,” I mumble under my breath, more for me than Isaac.

  The knot in my stomach loosens when Isaac replies, “I never said she did.”

  Before I can process his cryptic reply, a man with inky black hair and biceps as wide as my head stops to stand in front of us. “Driver’s license,” he demands, his tone so deep I’m certain he caused a tsunami on the east coast.

  When I hand him my license, he jots down my information on a silver clipboard clasped in his knuckle-busted hands.

  “What’s that for?” I ask Isaac, jerking my chin to the man three times my size. I’m not overly familiar with underground fighting circuits, but requesting ID from participants seems a little excessive.

  “They take down your details in case they need to contact your next of kin. You know... in the event of your death.” Even though Isaac’s tone is mocking, there's a seriousness to it that makes me uncomfortable.

  Working my jaw side to side, I struggle to swallow the panic rising up my esophagus. With Axel and his posse of men now standing ringside, the last thing I want to do is vomit. I refuse to give him more ammunition—and Savannah doesn’t need any additional worry. She's shaking so much, even tucking her lip into her mouth can’t conceal its quiver.

  When Axel slips under the frayed ropes of the boxing ring, Savannah slings her eyes to me. Her mouth remains shut, but her eyes relay her every wish. Please don’t do this, she begs on repeat. Maybe Isaac is right that this will only lengthen the bridge built between us over the past five years.

  I keep my eyes locked on her, ensuring she can read my reply as readily as I heard her wordless plea. I don’t have a choice. If I walk away now, I’ll walk away a coward. I’m not going to do that.

  Frustrated, Savannah shakes her head before stalking away from the ring. Not willing to let his girlfriend slip away without a more intimate embrace, Axel’s seizes her wrist, yanks her back, then seals his mouth over hers.

  I look away, fighting to ignore the anger burning me whole. Axel isn’t kissing her because he can’t breathe without her lips on his. He's kissing her to rile me up. That's why he doesn’t close his eyes during their embrace. He keeps them locked on me, proving what I’ve always known. He doesn’t deserve her. I wouldn’t care if there were a million men surrounding me, if Savannah’s lips were on mine, nothing else would matter. Not a single thing.

  I stand from my seat and make my way toward the ring on Isaac’s heel. The energy thrumming in the air is electrifying, making my skin cake with sweat. I’ve never been an overly showy type of guy, but I can see how these events become addictive. But it’s not the energy inspiring me; it’s the prospect of showing Savannah she's worth fighting for.

  When I reach the edge of the ring, I drag my shirt over my head. The group of women filling the cheap seats wolf whistle and cat call when they spot the compact muscles on my midsection. Their flirty comments boost my ego so much, any worry lingering in the back of my mind fades into the distance. If I play my cards right, I can leave this match with something much more valuable than money. I can leave with my girl.

  When I enter the ring, Axel prances around the damp-smelling space, his attention never once veering to the chair he instructed Savannah to sit in. He doesn’t care that her eyes are brimming with so many tears they’re seconds away from rolling down her cheeks or that she is biting on the corner of her lip so hard, a tinge of red can be seen from feet away. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

  Only now do I see the truth in Isaac’s statement. I know what I must do.

  Twisting my neck, I seek Isaac amongst the dense group of men placing bets at the edge of the boxing ring. Shockingly, the odds offered are evenly split. I ask him, “Are there any rules on how long the fight must last?”

  His boyish grin has me wondering if he is as old as I first perceived. His face is youthful, void of a single wrinkle, and his don’t-give-a-shit attitude seems closer to my age. It's just his wise eyes that make him appear years older.

  “No rules. No limitations. And no fear. Do with it what you shall,” Isaac replies, his voice barely heard over the referee announcing the fight is starting.

  “And no getting in the car if you’re covered in blood,” Cormack adds on, his tone half-serious, half-joking.

  I realize he's joking when he places a bid on me in the amount of five thousand dollars. I swallow harshly, suddenly bombarded with panic about my decision.

  Before I can warn Isaac and Cormack of my plans, a snarky voice at my side commands my attention. “Not gonna place a bet on yourself?” Axel asks, stepping into the middle of the ring. “I can lend you some money if you’re short on change. I’m sure I’ve got a few pennies here somewhere.”

  He pats the pockets of his gym shorts, enhancing the pudgy rolls spilling over their tight waistband.

  “Nah, you keep it. You never know when Donut King will have another penny sale.” An arrogant wink enriches my snarky comment about his chubby midsection.

  Axel replies, “Love handles give the girls more cuddling material. I’m sure you remember Savannah likes to spoon after sex?” He glares into my eyes, knowing I have nothing to come back with. Savannah and I were close when we were younger, but we weren’t that close.

  A surge of adrenaline roars through my body when the referee taps our hands together, announcing the start of our fight. The rumble of the crowd is deafening; not even the furious thump of my pulse can drown it out.

  Stepping back from the referee, I raise my fists to my face, successfully blocking
Axel’s wildly flung left fist. Isaac’s caution on the strength of his left hook was accurate. It was strong enough to inspire a panicked gasp from the ref, but not potent enough to disrupt my stern stance.

  I keep my hands held high when Axel comes at me with a quick left, right, left combination. When his strikes to my head are unsuccessful, he lowers his tape-covered hands to my ribs. From the way he grunts with every swing, I perceive his body is in more pain from his jabs than mine. He doesn’t keep his core stable, thinking if he uses more power, the fight will be over faster. It's a pity he trained under the wrong instructor. My heart rate has barely kicked up a notch, yet he's covered head-to-toe in sweat, and his chest is heaving with every breath.

  I wait for Axel’s energy to drain another ten percent before asking, “What will it take for you to walk away from her?” I shout my question, ensuring he can hear me over the monstrous bellowing of the spectators.

  I block three back-to-back jabs to my ribs before pushing Axel away from me by his sweat-drenched torso. I barely touch him, but his stumble over his feet sends him crashing onto the spongy mat. I want to pretend his faltering steps are because of my impressive fighting skills, but that isn’t the case. It's compliments of the whiskey leeching from his pores. I’m certain the front three rows of spectators are getting drunk off his scent.

  After regaining his footing, Axel charges for me. “Nothing. Savannah’s mine. The quicker you learn that, the better,” he growls, his words as breathless as his lungs.

  He lands on the ropes with a grunt when I sidestep his attack with only a second to spare. The laughter from the crowd aggravates his anger even more. The heat on his cheeks grows, as does the fire in his eyes. As he advances for me with the look of death burning in his slit gaze, the background noise fades to nothing. All I can hear is Savannah’s panicked breaths battering my eardrums on repeat, wordlessly encouraging me.

  “Walk away from her, and I’ll throw the fight,” I guarantee as Axel pummels my left ribcage with a bone-crunching right hook.

  While lowering my elbows to stop his recurring hits, I continue my ploy to coerce him into giving up Savannah. “I’ll make you look so much like a hero, no one will challenge you after tonight.”

  Axel’s next two jabs aren’t as firm as his first two, making me hopeful I’m getting through to him.

  “You’ll look like a god in front of your uncle and his associates.”

  I grunt when he stabs his fingers under my ribs, nearly forcing me to drop my hands from my face.

  Ignoring the burn ripping through my lungs, I guarantee, “You’ll not only walk away tonight victorious; you’ll walk away with his respect.”

  “You want her that bad?” Axel rumbles, his words barely audible in his breathless state.

  My reply is forced out via a rumble when he throws his fist into my spleen. “Away from you, yes.”

  Axel hammers my ribs as his eyes raise to mine. After passing them over my face that shows no signs of the exhaustion he shows, he turns to the side of the ring. His uncle is watching our fight with the same sardonic look he’s been wearing all night. He appears neither amused or entertained.

  “Who says I want his respect?” Axel asks, his words flowing from his mouth as fast as his fists advance toward my face. “Besides, I don’t need you to throw the match. I’ve already got this contest in the bag.”

  Swooping down low to avoid his fists narrowing in on my head, I inflict back-to-back jabs to his unprotected ribs before smashing my open palm against his nose. Axel stumbles backward, his eyes widening as his hand darts up to stop the flow of blood coming from his lips. The roar of the crowd triples, thrilled by the first sign of bloodshed.

  “That’s just a taste of what is to come if you deny my suggestion.” My tone is low, but the way the referee’s nostrils flare at the end of it has me wondering if he heard my warning.

  After lifting my fists high, I step toward Axel, backing up my warning with a glare. My onslaught was only one tenth of the gasoline I have left in my tank, so he has five seconds to agree to my terms before I succumb to the endorphins thickening my blood.

  As Axel proceeds toward me, I notice the bounce in his step isn’t as springy. His left arm is hanging a little lower than his right, and his nose is already swelling from the jab I inflicted. Other than tucking my elbows into my ribs, I allow him to approach me without protest, hoping I haven’t misread the treaty in his eyes. Before I fought back, he had no intention of accepting my offer. Now... now he looks exactly how I want him to look—defeated.

  My assumptions are proven dead accurate when he curls his arm around my neck in a loose chokehold to conceal his muttered, “Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal,” from the referee.

  I shoot him a sideways glare, cautioning him not to fuck with me. He holds my gaze, firming his agreement with a weak nod of his head.

  “You’ll do it? You’ll walk away?” I doublecheck, wanting to ensure the mass surge of testosterone roaring through my veins isn’t affecting my perception.

  The quickest flare ignites in Axel’s eyes before he once again nods his head. “But you better make me look good, Ryan, or all bets are off.”

  I nod without hesitation. After this performance, I’ll be nominated for an Oscar.

  Our fight lasts another three rounds before the wooziness in my head matches last month when I drank two cheap bottles of wine and half a dozen beers. I’m not the only one sporting fresh injuries though. Axel has a black eye, a cut brow, and a split lip added to the ugliness of his face. Although I agreed to throw the fight, I want it to look legitimate. When the spectators leave here tonight, they’re going to say our bout was evenly matched until I was forced to tap out during the fourth round due to the fear of being choked.

  Considering I’ve never watched an episode of WWE in my life, my wrestling skills are remarkedly convincing. Probably helps that Axel’s rear naked chokehold he just placed on me is authentic enough to make moisture rush into Savannah’s eyes.

  Because I am on my hands and knees, her terrified gaze stares into mine as tears glide down her cheeks unchecked.

  “I’m okay,” I attempt to mouth, but since Axel has placed pressure on the wrong nerve in my neck, my words are entombed in my throat.

  Noticing the blue color seeping onto my skin, Savannah leaps up from her chair, panicked I’m not getting adequate oxygen. “Stop!” she screams, startling two middle-aged ladies seated on each side of her. “Please stop!”

  She continues screaming, but with my pulse thumping in my ears, I can’t hear a word she's yelling. The terrified look on her face is telling enough, though. She’s begging Axel to stop.

  Alarm flickers in her tear-filled eyes when Axel fails to acknowledge her request. I track her race across the room when she suddenly pushes off her feet. She’s hindered by the crowd pushing in close to the ring for a bird’s eye view of my demise, but she reaches Col at a record-breaking pace. Her lips move at a million miles an hour as she pleads to Col and the two suit-clad men seated beside him.

  Within seconds, the wetness on her cheeks burns off, her anger so white-hot it dries her tears in an instant. I don’t know what she roars when she stomps her feet, but it's vicious enough for Col to propel from his chair.

  A guttural groan rolls up my chest when Col backhands Savannah with so much force, her head slings sideways before she plummets to the ground. I crawl across the mat on my hands and knees, taking Axel with me. My quest to reach Savannah increases Axel’s clutch on my throat, but nothing can stop me. My desire to get to Savannah is so urgent, I’m blessed with inhuman strength.

  “Don’t worry, Ryan,” Axel grunts, his words strained through clenched teeth as he tightens his grip around my throat. “That won’t be the first time she’ll be smacked around.” He brings his lips to the shell of my ear before whispering, “I saw the way she looked at you tonight. She’ll pay for her stupidity.”

  “You said you’d walk away.” My words are barely heard ov
er the hammering of my heart.

  As I rapidly blink through the wooziness consuming me, Axel chuckles, “I lied. Savannah isn’t just mine. I own her. She goes where I go. That’s our deal.”

  The possessiveness in his voice causes me to snap.

  Gnashing my teeth together, I stand to my feet. My knees wobble, strained by our combined weight, but I continue on, more determined than ever. The roar of the crowd triples as they mimic my attempts to stand. They swell toward the fraying ropes, encouraging my resurgence of power with ear-piercing claps.

  “Come on, Ryan. Show them your heart!” Isaac shouts, his voice loud enough to break through the mental qualm attempting to swallow me whole.

  Savannah watches me with wide eyes when I finalize the last two inches. Not a word spills from her lips, but the silent encouragement streaming from her eyes bolsters my grit more than the spectators’ cheers.

  Tears topple down her white cheeks when I stand to my full height, which has gained three inches from having Axel curled on my back. Knowing there's no better way to release Axel’s hold on my neck, I fall backward, hoping my body weight landing on his will weaken his grip.

  Axel hisses out a winded grunt when we land on the mat with a sickening thud. Our impact has the effect I am aiming for: Axel’s arm is wrenched away from my neck.

  Recognizing agility always trumps skill, we both scramble, vying to get the upper hand on the other. Thankfully, even depleted of oxygen, my movements are nimbler than Axel’s. I crawl onto his back before wrapping my forearm around his throat. Happy I’ve got his top half locked down, I curl my legs around his hips to get my hooks in. I hold him in the same rear naked chokehold he attempted to use on me earlier, but I put everything I have into my grip, pretending it's Col’s neck I’m strangling.

  The crowd roars, loving the switch in dynamic. It isn’t very often you witness a change in power after a death choke is implemented.

  Seconds away from passing out, Axel’s hand darts out to tap the mat. He does the same gesture another three times before Cormack races into the ring to pull me away from him. With more endorphins gushing through my veins than sense, I throw off Cormack before making a beeline for Axel. I’m not even halfway through issuing my punishment for double-crossing me.