Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (13 page)

Something wet landed on my arm. Maybe sweat. I don’t know. I didn’t realize how close he was, how I could actually smell their sweat and body odor. I knew how Drake smelled; he had a much lighter scent than his opponent—a delicious piney scent, sweet like the earth, crisp like night air.

Kylie was way too into this, calling out to Drake to finish him.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Grit was out cold within the blink of an eye. Just like that. So quickly it seemed unreal. Just like a fucking movie. Drake was up, looking at his crowd, pleased with his victory.

He scanned the area, and when his eyes happened to move down and to his right, his entire face went blank. He stood on the mat, as still as ever. His arm was tossed in the air by the ref, but he allowed his arm to sag a bit.

Right at me, he looked, with eyes so dark and filled with turmoil that they confused me. My eyes felt hot and prickly. I still felt sick and dirty from witnessing his brutality.

My throat felt like it’d been filled with cotton balls. I couldn’t swallow. I could only stare. I could only watch.

So, this was why they called him Doomsday. This was why he wanted me to stay away from him. This was why he didn’t want to get too close. Because, he was right. He was a monster in that cage—an untamed beast. He was unstoppable, relentless, and powerful.

He was…
Doomsday
.

And being Doomsday was what he loved.

The ref dropped Drake’s arm and said something to him and he looked at the ref. I had to get away, finally breaking our connection. I couldn’t be there anymore.

“I need air,” I said in Kylie’s direction, but I didn’t want to ruin her fun. She could stay if she wanted to, but she didn’t. She followed after me as I shoved my way through the crowd, one hand cupping my mouth as I hurried for the exit.

“Wait—Jen! Jen!” Kylie kept yelling, and I felt her growing closer. Manny was at the exit and when he saw me coming he started to ask something with a smile but I shook my head and pushed past him, busting through the exit door.

And that’s when I let it all out.

My dinner
and
my emotions, all over the alley.

It was disgusting and totally unexpected. Kylie came rushing out, bending at my side, and grabbing my ponytail as if it were in the way. “Shit, Jen, what’s wrong?”

I swiped at my mouth with the back of my arm. “That’s what he loves so much?” I asked, pointing back. “
That?
”

Kylie looked confused, but then she shrugged. “Well, Jen, it’s what he grew up doing,” she said.

“I know, I know but—oh my God. The bones cracking…the blood. How can you stand it?”

She shrugged again. “Grew up around a rough older brother and a lot of boy cousins. What can I say?” That was true. Kylie had no girl cousins. She had her brother Tate, and Manny, plus four other male first cousins. “Hun, do you just wanna go home? You look really sick and I can tell you don’t want to be here.”

“No, Kylie. Hell no. You wanted to come. I’m here for you.”

She blinked with pleading eyes. She wanted to accommodate me, but I also wanted to please her. It was always this way with us. We cared about each other too much. “How about you go back in and watch the next fight? I can wait out here until it’s over.”

“And leave you out here?!” She stood straight, gluing a hand to her hip. “Hell, no. It’s dangerous out here.” She looked around, rubbing her arm uncomfortably.

I looked towards the exit, at Manny who was keeping an eye on his cousin and me. I nodded my head in his direction. “Manny can keep an eye on me.”

She glanced back at him before meeting my eyes. “No way, Jen. Let’s just go. I can run into Oscar another time, I swear—”

“No, Kylie. Please. Go! Have fun! I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“Silly,” she said, sighing. “You could never ruin my night.” Our bickering was ridiculous. We were like nice old ladies that couldn’t make up their mind. She placed her hands on my shoulders. “Let’s just get out of here. Maybe go catch some burgers at the midnight diner.”

God, I felt so bad. I hated doing this to her. I hated spoiling her fun with my weirdness. Why couldn’t I have grown up around rough cousins? Why did I have to be so repulsed by the sight of blood? The sound of breaking bones. I shivered at the thought.

“You ladies good out here?” Manny called. He had a foot in the door, but his body was outside. He narrowed his eyes at me before looking at Kylie.

“Yeah!” Kylie called, looking his way. “We’re good. We’re gonna get outta here.” She twisted around, sliding an arm across my shoulders and starting for the parking lot behind the building. “Thanks for everything, Manny!”

“Anytime,” he called. “Be safe!”

We were in the car in no time.

I slouched in the driver’s seat, pressing my fingers to my temples as Kylie buckled in. “Buckley’s Burger Joint. Now!” Kylie demanded playfully, giving me a funny scowl.

“Kylie, just tell me the truth,” I said as I started the car and buckled myself in. “Did I ruin this night for you? I know how badly you wanted to see Oscar.”

“Ehh.” She lifted her shoulders carelessly. “There’s a reason I’m telling you to hit Buckley’s. I heard that’s where all the fighters at the Pit go after their fights. Maybe we can stick around until they show?” She had that sparkle in her eye again, a mischievous look on her face.

I laughed. “Seriously? Who told you that?”

“Manny. Right before the first fight.”

“Well, then,” I sighed. “To Buckley’s we go.”

“It’s perfect that we’re leaving now, actually; then it’ll look like we sorta just bumped into each other and that it’s destiny, ya know?” She laughed at that.

“You are absurd,” I laughed, putting the car in drive and hitting the road.

A
fter downing
my chocolate milkshake and crispy fries, I felt much better, given how I’d thrown my guts up back at the Dawg Pit.

“There,” Kylie said, smiling at me across the table. “You don’t look like Snow White anymore. Told you, Buckley’s is always the answer.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. I’d only been to Buckley’s once. It was a long time ago. Mitchell took me.

“I’m gonna go run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Kylie hopped out of her chair, sauntering to the bathroom that was just around the corner from the kitchen.

A few of the men sitting at the bar watched her walk by, some shaking their heads like they couldn’t believe a girl could be so beautiful and gifted in all the right places.

I sighed, pressing my back against the chair, fiddling with the straw of my shake. A car door slammed in the distance and I turned, peering out the window. Familiar headlights flashed off and then five boys hopped out of the hatch, two climbing out the passenger door and one from the driver’s side.

Packed like clowns in a Beetle.

I watched the entire time, but the driver was the one who made my heart snag.

He’d changed clothes. A fitted white T-shirt and a pair of baggy gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide his bulging package. His hair wasn’t spiky tonight. It was a sweated out mess, a few strands hanging over his forehead.

All of the boys came rushing for Buckley’s entrance, but Drake took his time. His head lifted up as he tied the drawstring of his sweats, and when he spotted me sitting at the table by one of Buckley’s three windows, he froze, his face drawing a blank.

His jaw ticked, telling me everything he felt.

Annoyance.

Frustration.

It was clear he was tired of seeing me—randomly
“running”
into me.

The bell above the door chimed and the fighters of the Dawg Pit came plowing in, taking the two booths by the wall opposite of me.

I had a clear view of them from my seat. They were all loud and boastful. Muscular in all of the not-so-attractive places. None of them had the slenderness that Drake had.

A waitress—a blonde with a pink skirt that obviously loved their attention—swung her hair over her shoulder as she started their way. A notepad was in her hand, a glittery pen behind her ear, and when the bell above the door chimed again, she glanced back, spotting Drake.

She grinned way too hard as she saw him coming in her direction, tilting her head, going all googly-eyed.

Her hand pressed on his chest when he came closer, and she giggled while saying something.

Drake kept a straight face, removing her hand and walking right by her, going for the last empty booth.

Another car door slammed, I turned to look, and the twins came marching in. They walked into the restaurant, Otto smirking at the blonde waitress.

She looked disgusted with him. Shocking…
not
.

As they walked by, Kylie came down the hallway fiddling with the buttons on her dress. She wasn’t paying much attention, her head down, brows pulled together with frustration, and due to her lack of observing her surroundings she ran right into Oscar’s chest.

She gasped, lifting her head, eyes going wide, and Oscar caught her by the upper arms, keeping her steady before she could stumble and fall.

He looked down at her, and I watched as his face softened. It seemed he’d wanted to see her, too. I could tell by the smooth, sweet smile that spread across his lips.

Unlike Drake, he wasn’t afraid to talk to her. Hug her. Even chat with her. Kylie glanced at me, winking.

It’d happened just the way she wanted it to. I knew she wasn’t going to come back to the table for a while.

Otto stopped harassing the waitress and went to Drake’s booth. My eyes followed him until they dropped and met a sharp green gaze.

To my surprise, he was already looking at me. Only, unlike Oscar, he wasn’t smiling. He was glaring.

His arms were folded on top of the table, body hunched over, a shadow above his eyes that made him appear even darker.

He always looked so mean. It was really starting to become intimidating.

I fidgeted in my chair, dropping my gaze. I knew he hadn’t looked away. I could feel his glare on me, searing right through my skin, causing heat to travel up to my throat.

I grabbed my shake and took a quick sip, wishing Kylie would stop flirting with Oscar and come back to keep me company.

The fighters had ordered their food and roughhoused as they waited. Otto had joined them, leaning over the back of his booth and making smart-ass remarks, shoving his victories in their faces.

It was obvious that not many took Otto seriously outside of the ring. I’d never seen him fight, but it was clear he won…a lot. He got on their nerves, but they had to respect him because he was no wimp.

Ten minutes had passed, and I knew for sure Kylie wasn’t coming back. She and Oscar were now sitting at their own two-top table—her with a strawberry shake, and him with a burger, fries, and a large soda.

I sighed, pulling out my cellphone and jumping on whatever social network would make me seem the busiest.

Facebook involved a lot of scrolling, liking, and commenting. It would work for now.

A picture of Greta Wheeler and her new boyfriend ran across my screen. That wasn’t going to last for more than three days. Skank.

Sad, I was still only friends with her because she gave Kylie and me something to gossip about. Plus, we liked to keep a record of her longest and shortest relationships.

There was a picture of Trace, Kylie’s ex. He was with his best friend, sporting a shiner around his left eye that I’m sure he was lying about to cover his actions.

I snickered.

It was hideous.

Then I un-friended him. I didn’t need to keep seeing him on my timeline. What Kylie and he had was definitely over, after the way he behaved at the party.

I continued scrolling, but that’s when I came across the poster Kylie was talking about... the one with Drake on it.

Someone had shared it and had obviously attended the fight tonight, too.

She told me he was on it, but she didn’t tell me how freaking
hot
he looked. It was an older picture; his hair was longer and curlier, his face clear of the stubble he had now.

He still looked mean, though.

Locked jaw, upper lip peeled back, nostrils flared, and inked arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was shirtless… and eerily delicious. The way he looked on the poster, that usual shadow cloaking the top half of his face, that tight jaw, that brutal, sexy look.

His green eyes made the image spark, his fighter name big and bold on the poster.

DOOMSDAY.

Yes. Doomsday he was. He looked like nothing but trouble on this poster.

“Why are you here?” I whipped my head up, snatching my phone down and turning it flat. I placed it on my lap, concealing the screen.

I then met Drake’s eyes, and he looked at me strangely. He was standing a few inches away, arms folded, lips thin. He looked down at my phone with a frown but didn’t speak on it. I’m sure he saw what I was looking at.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen you come here before,” he stated.

I gave a quick glance over my shoulder, pointing back with my thumb. “Kylie…” was all I could utter. I felt suffocated by his presence. Smothered.

He cocked a brow, side-eying her and Oscar.

I blinked rapidly before looking away. I could have asked him a million things, but only one thing came to mind. “Now I see why you want me to stay away. You think you’ll hurt me.”

I didn’t dare look up. And that was probably what he wanted me to do because in an instant he sat in the chair across from me, the screech of metal running across the linoleum causing me to pick up my head. His jaw was clenched now.

“You think I
wanted
you to see that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t have even been there.”

“Well, I was. And who cares?”

“You. Obviously.” He crossed his arms. Then he sighed, looking down at the tabletop. “You’re trying too hard.”

“What are you talking about?”

“To be close to me. To get me to open up.” He paused, lowering his gaze. “I don’t do feelings. And I don’t have girls as friends. It’s better if I don’t…not with you. Not with anyone.”

I sighed, pressing my back against the seat. For some strange reason, I hated the position we were in. Him pretending to not like me. Me failing to pretend that I despised him.

We weren’t like this before. We were friends. We talked a lot. I gave him the cross Mitchell gave me, for Christ’s sake. Speaking of…

“Do you still have the cross?” I asked.

He looked up. “No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t.”

I pressed my lips together. Something about his face proved to me that he was lying. He wanted me to hate him. I needed his trust. I needed to gain it again.

I missed the young Drake, the one that listened even when he didn’t feel like talking. I wanted him back.

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “I know you have it. You just want me to think you don’t.” I shrugged, transitioning to a lighter topic. “But I see why they call you Doomsday now.” I laughed nervously. He stared but didn’t speak. “I see why you’re so dedicated. You’re good at it—fighting, I mean. I don’t blame you for that.”

His shoulders softened a touch. I met his eyes and ours locked. They held for a few seconds, right before he pulled away, looking towards Kylie and Oscar.

He shook his head at them, not with disrespect, but with mild interest and maybe a bit of amusement.

He didn’t get it, but he
wanted
to know all about it. I could tell. He looked longer than he should have—watched as Oscar ran his hand down Kylie’s jawline and then her arm, murmuring sweetly to her.

He pointed a thumb in their direction. “Is that what you’re expecting? Me to be all mushy like him?”

“No,” I said rapidly, but it was a lie.

“Then what the hell are you expecting?”

“To just be friends. Like how we were when we were kids.”

“Tuh.” He smacked his teeth, leaning against the back of his chair and crossing his arms again. “That’s funny.”

“How is that funny?”

“Because you still think I’m like that. That was an innocent version of myself. Innocent Drake. He was young. He didn’t know better. But I know better now. Girls like you only want me because you can’t
handle
me. You want to transform the bad boy and take credit for it.”

“What!? I would never do that!” I snapped.

“Yeah,” he breathed, studying me, watching as I balled my fist on the table. “Whatever you say.” His lips twitched. He wanted to laugh so badly. I don’t know why seeing him fight a smile pissed me off.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he felt he couldn’t let go in front of me, or that he had to pretend to be so hard, even when we both knew he wasn’t as cold as he made himself out to be.

In the ring, he was Doomsday. But outside of it, he was just Drake Davenport, a boy with problems and no one to truly express them with.

“I think you are being a bit of an overconfident jerk right now.”

“So?”

“So?” I narrowed my gaze He was getting under my skin now. And he knew it.

“Fine,” I huffed, “If that’s what you want—for me to leave you alone—I will. What’s the point, if you’re just going to be a jackass every time we speak?”

I snatched up my car keys, dropped some money on the table for my bill and a tip, and then I pushed out of my chair, hurrying for the exit.

I took out my cellphone, sending Kylie a quick text. I knew she saw me leaving, but she wasn’t ready to go yet, so I told her to take her time, that I’d be waiting in the car for her whenever she was ready.

She wasn’t going to keep me waiting, and I secretly appreciated that. I hated ruining her fun. This was twice in one night, but in that moment all I could think about was getting out of there.

I needed to get away from Jackass Drake.

I rushed for my car, unlocking it with the key fob on the way. Before I could get inside, I heard the crunching of gravel and then a hand came down on the window, slamming my door closed.

I gasped as the same hand wrapped round my arm and squeezed it with slight pressure. He whirled me around and pressed my back against the cold door.

Bold green eyes focused on mine, pink lips so close I felt my belly swirling with heat. His hands went to either side of my head, pressing on the car.

He smelled good…sweet pine, sweet earth. His jaw was locked, hair on his forehead, breathing deeply through his nostrils.

“I’m trying to fucking save you from me, Jenny.”

“I don’t need you to save me from anything.” My breathing accelerated with his.

“Why the hell do you need to be friends with a guy like me, anyway?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have to. I just…want to.”

Sighing, he brought one hand to his face, roughly running it over his forehead and eyes. He was aggravated, but just like me, he couldn’t let go. He hated being away.

“What is it that you want, huh?” he bit through clenched teeth. “What is it, Jenny? You want me to talk sweet to you? Is that it? You want me to tell you some bullshit about how I’m actually a good guy deep down, how I secretly wish to be with you too, but my life won’t allow it—our
lives
, wont allow it?”

His questions were rhetorical, but they spoke to me. There was truth behind them. He was opening up and he didn’t even realize it.

Suddenly, his face straightened, and he moved in closer, pressing his crotch into my belly. I stilled when his hands came to my face and he clasped it, keeping my eyes on his.

Breath shallow, I watched as his eyes narrowed. He studied me like a piece of artwork, like I was some intricate masterpiece that no one could figure out. The kind of masterpiece that is too beautiful to replicate—too unique to pass by without a thorough glance.

That same torment and confliction from the previous week ran deep in his eyes again. He hated this, but liked it just a tad bit more.