"Fox, why do people kiss? Dad and Paps were kissing today. It was weird."
"I don't know."
"Oh. Do friends kiss?"
"Only in fairy tales, I think."
"Should we kiss?"
"Sure."
"..."
"..."
"Eww! Eww!"
"Ugh! Blech!"
"No way."
"Never again."
ᖴO᙭
That rush of victory hasn't hit. I know it won't. So really, why the fuck am I still doing this?
I set my forehead on the concrete wall at the back of Skyfall. I don't even know why I went out here, but the air is cool. It's quiet. Spacey.
My fists are still tingling, itching for more. I make fists around the tape, flex out, and do it again. No blood.
He deserved to bleed.
Fucking Onyx. He was supposed to be a real MMA fight, supposed to give me a reason to let out what's been boiling under the surface. He talked so much shit—about Cam, about Chris—and then he went down like nothing. All bark, no bite. What a fucking embarrassment.
I roll my wrists, the wrap stretching across my knuckles. Tight. Too tight. My teeth grind, and I let my head loll against the rough wall, catching tiny particles in my skin, staring at the dull ground below.
A door slams open. "Mercy!"
"Hey, Sport. Here for an autograph?"
"No!" Cam's voice snaps. She's storming over, my belt slung over her shoulder like it means something. Her eyes are wild. I already know what's coming.
"You stick to the plan!" she starts, turning me away from the wall. "Two rounds. That's what we agreed on, Fox. Two rounds minimum, showcase your moves, make it a goddamn show for the sponsors, for the scouts."
I shrug. "Didn't feel like it."
"Didn't feel like it? You think this is just about what feels right in the moment? We had a strategy. You're not thinking about the long game here."
I run a hand over my face, nodding, letting her words hit me. She's right, but she doesn't know everything. Doesn't know what Onyx said.
"You can't throw this away, Fox. This isn't just some street brawl. You want more fights, better contracts? Then you follow the plan."
"I know." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. I don't look at her, just nod again.
Her shoulders drop. She sighs, running a hand over her slicked-back hair. "I'm sorry. I'm yelling. I shouldn't... I'm sorry. I'm...fuck, I'm impressed, but—damn it, Fox, you can't keep pulling this shit."
A tiny smirk pulls at my lips. "You're impressed."
She steps closer, drops the belt over my shoulder. It's heavier than I thought. "Don't let it go to your head, Mercy."
YOU ARE READING
Beside
Romance''Tell me how it feels,'' he whispers. "Good," I gasp, my entire body trembling. Deeper. Harder. Perfect -- like we've been doing this for years. His hand finds my jaw, fingers firm as he tilts my head up, making me look at him. And that's it. Wav...
