Page 72 of Blood Sport

Settling onto the seat, I watch the back of Jaylen’s head as he stands at the bar, waiting for our drinks. It doesn’t take me long to notice the number of eyes looking in his direction from all around the room. Mostly women with their friends, giggling as they point at him, no doubt expressing how hot he is. As if I don’t already know that. But he seems oblivious to the attention as he collects our drinks and walks toward the table.

All the women watching him follow his movements across the room, and I can’t help but chuckle when they find me sitting at the table he’s walking to, a scowl spreading across most of their faces. This is a reminder of how much attention Jaylen draws his way. No matter where he goes, women are always watching him.

“One whiskey on the rocks,” Jaylen says as he places the glass of brown liquor down in front of me and slides onto the empty stool, oblivious to the eyes trained on the back of his head.

I eye the mystery drink, wondering what the hell is in it. “What kind of whiskey is this?”

He shrugs, bringing the glass to his lips. “They’re all the same to me.” I watch his throat as he swallows the drink, his lip ring resting against the rim of the glass.

I did ask for a strong drink, so I can’t back down now, no matter how badly I want a fruity cocktail. Don’t be a little bitch, Evie. Bringing the cool glass to my lips, I take a small sip of the brown liquor. It instantly burns my throat going down, but it warms my stomach as soon as it settles.

Huh, maybe whiskey isn’t so bad after all. The taste is horrendous, but I like the feeling I’m left with afterward.

Jaylen bites back an amused smile as he looks around the room, unaware of all the eyes watching him still. I take in his sharp jawline and soft, smooth skin. He drags his lip ring between his teeth, releasing it a moment later.

I swear to God, that is single-handedly one of the most attractive things he does. It drives me wild.

Calm down, Evie.

“So, do you enjoy boxing these days?” Jaylen asks, turning to look at me again. I catch a glimmer of amusement in his eye that makes me frown. What the hell is he talking about? He chuckles. “I heard about what happened with Amara the other day.”

My cheeks go up in flames. Shit. How did he find out?

“She deserved it,” I mutter and take another sip of the crisp whiskey.

“I know,” he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table with his eyes focused on me. I’m instantly swept away in his ocean eyes, pulling down some of my defenses. “But why did you really do it?”

“Because she was pushing my buttons,” I admit, the alcohol already going straight to my head. Fucking hell whiskey is some strong shit. “And I had to put her in her place.”

“So I heard.” He grins, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. “It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that you were defending my honor, right?”

My eyes snap open at his words. “Um, no.” I can’t let him know that I punched Amara in the face because the thought of her seducing him made me see red. So, instead, I’m going to play this cool. I don’t need to inflate his ego more than it already is. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jaylen. I did it because she was pushing my buttons and I snapped. End of story.”

The shit-eating grin on his face tells me he doesn’t believe a fucking word that I’m saying.

To change the subject, I grab the cool glass and bring it to my lips, downing the rest of the liquid. If I’m going to get through this night, I’m going to need more liquid courage. The whiskey works fast spreading through my veins, making my fingertips slightly numb and my limbs a little heavier.

Oh, yeah. Now we’re talking.

Jaylen points to the empty glass. “Impressive, little angel. Would you like another one?”

I nod. “Keep ‘em coming.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

With Jaylen at the bar, I feel like I can breathe properly again. It’s hard to keep my thoughts straight whenever he’s around. The alcohol is making my head fuzzier than it already is, and I’m slowly letting go of the reigns I had been holding on so tightly to.

To my surprise, the DJ switches up the music to play a new popular country music song that has been blowing up online. It happens to be my fucking jam, too. How can I not dance to “Dicked Down in Dallas”?

As soon as the music starts, I’m on my feet and moving toward the crowd of people dancing in the middle room, having forgotten about sending Jaylen to the bar for another drink. I have no control over my limbs as I begin to do the dorkiest dances that would make most people cringe, but it feels appropriate for the song.

Halfway through the song, I’m doing the shopping cart dance when I spot Jaylen in my peripheral. He’s sitting on the stool with his legs spread and his elbow resting on the table, his eyes focused on me. There is a hint of a smile ghosting his lips, but I can’t tell if he’s amused or embarrassed for me. It could be both, honestly.

I twirl my pretend lasso in the air and throw it toward Jaylen, catching him around the waist, and then pull him to me. When he doesn’t go along with my move, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at me, I release the rope and wave him off. That’s on him for being a Debbie Downer and not dancing with me.

As the song comes to an end, I turn on my heel to walk further into the crowd, now in the mood to dance, when I run into what feels like a hard wall, knocking the breath out of my lungs. Stumbling backward, I manage to stay balanced on my feet and look at what I ran into. It wasn’t a wall. I ran into a person. A very tall and burly man. When he turns to face me, I’m struck by how pretty his eyes are despite his rugged exterior. Is he from somewhere north in Europe?

“I’m so sorry,” he says and helps me to stand upright, his hand under my elbow.

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