Hush.

14::Blister

I had no idea what I was doing.

I should have stayed home. I should have recognized the situation, pushed down my curiosity, and turned right around. I had no business doing what I did.

And yet, I couldn't stop myself.

After Polly dropped me back off at home with my new purchases, I went about placing them in my closet. Then I made some lunch, and like I did every day, I waited around to see if my mom would come stumbling in. After a few hours when she didn't, I made a list of everything that needed to be done.

Clean the kitchen?

Check.

Pay the heating bill?

Check. I sure as hell wasn't freezing to death.

Pay the rent?

Definite check.

All that was left was heading to the grocery store to buy some food, considering literally the only things left were a can of tomato soup and a box of Cheerios.

I had been on my way to the Food Mart when I made the stupid decision.

I knew well before then, probably when we first met and didn't even know each other, Ezra would be different. I knew he was hiding something, I knew he had his secrets, and I knew I would burn with the need to uncover them. Because that was just who I was. But as the saying goes, "Curiosity killed the cat", and I didn't exactly have nine lives to work with.

Even so, just as I was about to turn the corner, I spotted Ezra down the stretch, sitting in a little covered bus terminal, waiting.

Waiting? For what? Was he going to the place he seemed to go nearly every night?

The curiosity that roared through me was unstoppable.

I definitely was no James Bond, but I could be stealthy when I wanted to be. Shoving my hair down my jacket and flicking the hood up over my head, as soon as the bus came to a screeching stop I ran after it as well. If I knew Ezra even in the slightest, he would seat himself in the back. I pressed a couple dollars into the driver's hand when I boarded with my hood pulled low over my face, and took a seat near the front. A casual sweep told me Ezra was indeed sitting in the very back.

He seemed preoccupied, like his mind was somewhere else. His fingers fiddled with tape around his knuckles. I narrowed my eyes. What the hell was that for?

The ride was about as long as it took me to get to Hoover's, and in a place just as sketchy. I made sure to get off first-and fast-when the bus stopped. I stood off to the side with my back turned until the doors screeched shut and the bus lumbered away. Then I glanced up in time to see Ezra striding into a pretty run-down building, though the structure was large and I could hear music thumping out even from where I was.

The little warning in my mind went off, but I ignored it.

You didn't get this far by being a chicken.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and loped in after him. The minute I stepped through the door, I gasped in amazement.

The place was . . . it was huge. With music, and people everywhere. Rough guys, skanky girls . . .

Wait a minute.

I searched around the main area for anything with the place's name on it, and I found a grimy old flier. The Fight Club. I thought so. Considering I recognized a couple of the girls here hanging all over the broad and buff guys, I should have known. The Fight Club and Hoover's went hand-in-hand with each other. Most of the men that showed up came directly from a fight, or were on their way.