Page 24 of Burning Embers
“Don’t be like that, babe.” His cheek nuzzles against mine.
Justin was…a mistake. A big fucking mistake. It was a mistake that involved one too many drinks, a bedroom, and a subpar orgasm. I try my hardest to only sleep with guys I’m positive I’ll never see again, but then I met Justin.
He’s handsome in a pretty-boy type of way, with sun-kissed skin and Justin Bieber-styled hair, as ironic as that sounds given his name. I was feeling depressed after I saw Grayson walking out of the barn with a different girl, so I allowed Justin to take me home.
And now, he never lets me hear the end of it.
I’m just grateful that he always chooses to engage with me when Grayson is preoccupied. I’m not sure what my overprotective best friend will do if he discovers I fucked some trust-fund rich kid from the good part of town.
“Bella…” He probably thinks he sounds sexy, but anyone who calls me “Bella” is an automatic nope in my book. “You’re so tense, babe. Let me help you with that.”
His hands travel to my shoulders as he begins to knead the muscles there.
“You’re right.” I stealthily slip out of his embrace and flash him a saccharine-sweet smile over my shoulder. “I am tense. Which is why I’m here.”
Without waiting for him to respond, I hurry through the crowd, focusing only on Dennis’s luminescent bald spot. When he sees me, his eyes flare with excitement, and he steps away from whomever he was talking to.
“Isabella! It’s so good to see you today!” His booming voice reverberates through the room, even over the blaring music, chatter, and laughter.
“You got anyone for me today?” I ask, already unzipping my sweatshirt.
If there’s one thing I can appreciate about Dennis, it’s the fact that he never ogles me. He’s sleazy, sure, and looks as if he eats puppies for dinner, but never once has he done anything inappropriate with me. Here I am, in nothing but a sports bra and leggings, and his gaze doesn’t stray from my face for even a second.
“Have a new girl. Larissa or something. She signed up an hour ago, but we haven’t been able to find someone for her to compete against.”
“Put me down.” I jerk my chin towards his clipboard.
His eyes glimmer with unfettered excitement. “You good to go in ten?”
The smile that carves itself onto my face is cold, full of pent-up rage and aggression that demands an outlet. “Of course.”
Dennis nods and moves through the crowd, no doubt to find this Larissa person and tell her that the next fight will be ours.
I move to an empty corner of the room and begin to run through my pre-fight exercises. It’s there Grayson finds me, his brow furrowed in confusion and a silent question in his gaze.
“I couldn’t find you,” I explain with an eye roll. “Were you busy with your new girlfriend?”
I try to sound teasing, but even I can detect the tinge of hurt in my voice. Dammit.
Grayson’s expression clouds over, becoming unreadable as he watches me complete my stretches.
After a moment of continued silence, at least between the two of us, he tosses his bag at my feet.
“Thanks,” I murmur as I unzip it and begin to tape up my hands.
Through it all, Grayson watches me, one of his dark brows quirked. I ignore his penetrating gaze as I use my teeth to rip the tape. Satisfied, I throw it back inside his bag and move around him.
His hands land on my shoulders, the warmth of his palms seeping through my skin and migrating straight to my lower belly, but I shrug him off. The last thing I need right now is to be distracted by my unreciprocated crush on my best friend.
Dennis moves towards an overturned box and steps on top of it, making sure he’s slightly higher than the rest of the crowd. He has a megaphone that he presses to his mouth. “Tonight we have a real treat for you! What is sexier than two women fighting it out?”
He laughs jovially as the crowd joins in, and I have to rein in my eye roll. I wonder if he and the rest of the men here would still find it sexy if they knew I was only seventeen. Alas, when I first started fighting here almost two years ago, I lied and said I was eighteen, hence the vulgar comments.
No matter.
As long as I can pound my fist into someone’s face, I’m a happy camper.
I jump on the balls of my feet as Dennis continues his introductions.