Alexander Ace Peterson has been an underground boxer for nearly his whole life, its always the same thing, train, fight, and win. But his boss tells him that they need something new, that something being a woman. Would having a woman join the fight...
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Blair♧
A cup of what should be whiskey of which is actually water is resting underneath his palm and he traces his index finger around the cup rim. It took a lot of courage for me to actually bring myself on over here and with every minute of silence that follows, I along with it, regret even coming to his table in the first place.
Silence hangs between us like a sign blowing soundlessly in the wind, it's not uncomfortable surprisingly, it seems almost natural, like he is a man of few words. He isn't even looking at me more like past me, he seems to be stuck in his head. At least that's one thing we have in common.
Being this close to him finally grants me the access to see how he looks further into the light. His eyes, of what I can see now, are like the eyes of a dragon, they are teal with specks of gold that circle around his pupils, they are captivating and yet strike fear within me.
Above his left cheek is a small dint like a scar which I'm presuming he has gotten from a fight. Tracing my eyes from his clenched jaw to the side of his neck, I notice that below his right ear there is a small birth mark that is almost shaped like a heart.
It's strange to see something so delicate and memorable on man with such striking features. He looks cold and harsh, like he means business. So what in the world does he want with me?
"Why is it that you said you know me?" I question, finally daring to break the silence.
He visibly flinches as if not expecting me to speak and his finger abruptly stops tracing the rim of his cup. His eyes don't meet mine but they do waver as he intakes a long breath as if preparing to make a long speech.
"It was the only way to spike your interest, I had to get you here somehow," he replies gruffly. His voice is thick and tired like he has spent countless hours running a marathon. His shoulders are slumped forward like he really is exhausted. His eyes still do not meet mine, it's unnerving.
"Why would you want my interest?" I question, a little harsher than intended. It's hard for my guard to not be up, despite him looking to be about my age there is something that compels me to not trust him. Maybe it's because I don't know him or maybe it's because I am afraid that he knows me.
I watch him carefully as he barely takes a sip of his water before placing the cup back down on the coaster in front of him. Resting near the edge of the table his hand clenches and unclenches like he is trying to keep his cool, its making me nervous, like he could strike at me at any second.
"What's your name?" He inquires, completely disregarding my previous question and shifts back further onto his chair so his posture straightens.
I reply, "Blair Abbot, "and he nods his head thoughtfully.
His gaze finally meets mine, the tealness of his eyes bleeding into the the blueness of my own and I feel myself become routed to the spot. He blinks back rapidly as if just seeing me for the first time, I can't uncover what emotions swirl in his eyes because it's like he has a shield blocking them from view.
