Next Generation (Book 4)

Fight Club

|Vaughn's POV|

Alright, here's the scenario. What would you do if you had a friend, yeah a friend, that got approached about a fight club. Good money, quick matches, more time to train. Sounds decent, right? Well, I, I mean my friend is highly considering it. Her sister doesn't think it's a good idea. Her parents will probably be livid she would even think of doing it. It has some risk and does involve sneaking out. As a friend, would you give the thumbs up?

I was laying in bed when I felt someone shaking me. Slowly opening my eyes I saw it was Murphy.

"What Murphy?"

"We need to talk."

Looking over at the clock on my nightstand I saw it was around 5am. I didn't need to be up for another hour and I had all my homework done. This better be good.

"It's 5am. What do we need to talk about?"

"Talk about you."

I sat up.

"What?"

"Look, I know how much you love fighting, but you are going to get yourself in trouble or seriously hurt if you get into this fight club."

I rolled over, pulling the cover over me.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She snatched the covers off. Rude much.

"Bullshit. You think I'm dumb? When you told me about it, I knew you weren't talking about your damn friend."

"What are you gonna do, snitch?"

"V, you can really hurt yourself."

"I got this. I just asked your opinion, for a friend."

"Shut up. There is no damn friend. It's you!"

"Alright, aright. Lower your voice. You know mom and dad are up."

"Fine. Just, don't do anything stupid."

"Okay, Murphy. Now, get out. I still have another hour of sleep."

She rolled her eyes, but left without saying another word. I fell back asleep and next thing I know I was being woken up again. Damn.

"Come on, Vaughn. Time for school," my dad stated.

"Dad, I don't feel well."

"What's wrong?"

"I have cramps."

He didn't say anything.

"Want me to get you some aspirin, a heating pad, your mom?"

I shook my head.

"Not those kinds of cramps. I'm tired and sore. Everything feels stiff. Can I just stay home today."

"Sore where?"

"Dad..."

"Sit up."

I slowly sat up in the bed.

"Where are you sore?" he questioned again.

"It feels like everywhere. Maybe I'm pushing myself too much."

He raised his brow.

"It's not so much of pushing yourself as it is having a healthy recovery. I thought Franco talked to you about proper rest and giving your body time to heal and regroup."

"He did, I just..."

"You're a hard head and are hell bent on doing things your way. Now, look at you. I have to go into the office today as does your mom. I'll come home early if you need me to."