Sugar Coated Pain [Boxer!Calum Hood AU] PUBLISHED -- SAMPLE ONLY

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"YOU KNOW I shouldn't be here, Bev."

"Don't care! You had no plans for tonight except maybe watching old nineties flicks with Andy and her friends."

"What if I wanted to do that? Besides, you didn't even want me coming here the first time!"

"Well, things change. The boys are your friends now and friends support each other. Besides, I'm sick of being surrounded by testosterone. Now that you know about this place, I could use the company."

An incredulous breath escaped Noelle at that, shaking her head in disbelief as she wrapped her arms around herself. Sure, her outfit was more modest this time consisting of boyfriend jeans and a loose shirt tucked in, but that didn't stop the shifty eyes from leering at Noelle and making her skin crawl. She wondered how many times she would have to come to Astros to get used to the stale smell of sweat mixed with alcohol, cigarette smoke and the coppery tang of blood in the air.

Astros was full of the same kind of men Noelle saw before, their voices mixed in a deep rumble as they chatted while waiting for the match to start. She shouldn't be here—something both Camille and Calum have said to her—but Beverly practically pulled her out of the house to bring her here—despite Noelle telling her what Calum said of her not belonging in Astros. Noelle most definitely could've put up a fight, but then that irritating, nagging feeling of getting to see Calum won out.

"Here they come," Luke's voice broke into her thoughts, his words followed by the crowd breaking out into cheers and boos alike. Noelle blinked, watching as the entire crowd was looking to her right as she craned her neck slightly, catching sight of the guy who Calum would be fighting tonight. Michael had said his name was Jerry Sanderson and when Noelle took the guy in, her eyes widened in astonishment because if this whole fighting thing wasn't illegal and followed the rules of opponents being in the same weight class, then Calum wouldn't be fighting Jerry.

Her throat dried as Jerry made his way through the rambunctious crowd, ignoring the ringing in her ears as she took in the size of him. This guy was huge. He could most definitely be as tall as Calum, but in the sense of muscle mass, Jerry was ripped. Like, to the point where Noelle wouldn't be surprised that if she stood next to him, you'd be able to tell that his bicep was probably bigger than her head. And the determined scowl on his face didn't make him look any approachable as the guy he was with stepped up to the ring and pulled apart the black ropes, allowing Jerry to climb inside.

"Holy—Calum's gonna fight him?" Noelle choked out, jaw unhinged as she glanced at Beverly to her left and Luke and Michael to her right. Why the hell didn't they look as disturbed as she felt? Was the drastic difference in opponents normal in these fights?

She watched Jerry, in nothing but athletic shorts and sneakers, bouncing on his feet slightly on the other end of the ring as he talked to the guy with him, nodding along as he made punching gestures with his taped fists. That determined expression never seemed to waver from his face. "Don't look so worried, Noelle," Michael chuckled, hands shoved into the pocket of his windbreaker, an easy expression on his face. "Calum's fought guys much bigger than Sanderson."

"And won," Luke added helpfully over the sounds of everyone's shouting.

Noelle rolled her lips into her mouth, not entirely convinced as she glanced around. Everyone seemed way too hyped to watch two men beat each other up in her opinion. She caught sight of pieces of paper in multiple people's hands, and leaned towards Beverly as she asked quietly, "What're the slips they're holding?"

"Betting slips," Beverly answered, gathering her short blonde hair to tie into a ponytail. "They write down which fighter they're betting on and the amount, and then pay up accordingly by the end of the match." With a small chuckle, Beverly shrugged. "This place isn't that sophisticated. These guys just write down whoever they think is gonna win and put some money on it. A percentage of the profit goes to the guy who keeps this place running while most of it goes to the fighters."