Of Kings and Aces

08| The King

This. This was the reason I felt so uneasy despite finding the fire exits and knowing that my phone and wallet were with me.

Jacob was fighting the defending champion. He was the royalty he was talking about because he was The King. Jacob Kingston. The king who could choose any beauty to be his queen. The one who could make anyone bow to his every command. I just prayed he would get the huge Torpedo to follow his command and submit.

The first bell rang signaling the start of the match. They eyed each other, gauging, watching, waiting. I haven't made a sound or a movement since Jacob entered the ring. I wasn't even sure if I was still breathing because my heart has either stopped or was running too fast I couldn't discern the beats.

Torpedo made the first swing, a deliberately slow one, which was meant as bait. Jacob took it and responded quickly. Too quick that Torpedo didn't expect a hard, solid punch in the first twenty seconds of the game. That was the only thing I dared to remember from the fight because after that ego-crushing hit, the Torpedo declared an all-out war against The King. The horror of seeing blood spurting out of orifices and cuts, the sickening sound of fists pounding and bones breaking, and the painful gasps and groans made me want to vomit dinner and the rest of my guts.

Oblivious to my plight, Jaxx continued to shout and coach just like a backseat driver. Is there such a thing as an audience box coach? Because that was him right there.

"Jake, watch out!" and just as Jaxx finished, the bell rang but it was too late to stop the missile punch that Torpedo launched. It landed squarely on The King's side causing him to grunt and hunch over. Collective gasps were heard. The avid supporters of Torpedo cheered while those of The King's cried foul.

The referee immediately stood in between and put his hands on both players' shoulders. They were breathing harshly, glaring hard at each other. Torpedo raised a loose fist at Jacob to which he bumped his fist against, telling him and everyone that he was all right, that the last attack was all in the name of the game. Still, some people booed.

Without warning, Jaxx jumped off our spot and made his way to our employee. Not knowing what else I should do, I followed him though I knew it was not a smart idea.

"Jake, what the fuck, man? What was that?" he angrily scolded the fighter.

"Thanks for coming, man," Jacob replied, giving him a literal bloody grin. He swished water in his mouth and spit it out right in front of me. He apologized mindlessly but once my presence registered, he did a double-take, blue eyes locking on mine. His eyes widened. Surprise was an understatement.

"Y-you're here," he said, stating the obvious. I nodded slightly but stayed rooted to my spot. His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned a little towards me. "Are you all right, though? You look pale."

"He's fine," Jaxx interrupted, not caring how I truly was. He slapped Jacob's leg and this caught his attention once more.

"Look, that punch was not an accident. I told you that guy plays dirty. He knows when the bell is about to ring then he throws a solid punch to the nearest opening. While it might not be counted as a point, it definitely will hurt you. And tonight, you're not playing for points. You're playing for submission."

Jacob nodded as Jaxx continued to quickly give him tips and his analysis of how the champion played. As they talked, my eyes were only focused on Jacob. It was a highly inappropriate time to do it but I was compelled to stare and ogle at him. I had no idea why I was checking him out.

Well, I may or may not. 

His hair was long on the top and was tied in a man bun at the back. The sides were cleanly tapered. He had a perpetual five o'clock shadow that ran across his strong, angular jaw. His lips were full, but right now they were fuller and swollen. My eyes wandered to his, catching him already staring at me. His eyes were most absorbing -- a deep azure blue that was so beautifully endless I could fall through them.