Page 2 of Fighter Daddy's Girl

“Professor Bryson creeps me out.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lila gives me a sly grin. “Well, I can guarantee he won’t be at the Warehouse tonight, so you’ll be safe. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

I laugh as we walk down the crowded hallway. As we go, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Professor Bryson standing outside the lecture hall door, watching me. It sends a cold chill down my spine.

I getout of the car and glance around. The parking lot is filled with people drinking and partying—pre-gaming before the night’s festivities. The Warehouse is exactly that—an old warehouse. It’s been repurposed and refurbished and now hosts parties, dances, frat and sorority events, and tonight, an underground MMA fight. The place itself is dingy and a little grimy, but that seems to be by design. People want that dirty underground experience, I guess.

“There’s more people here than I expected,” I say.

“Everybody loves a good fight.”

I scoff. “Like you’re even going to watch the fight. You’re here for the guy you’re stalking. Speaking of which, where is he?”

“Probably inside already. Let’s go.”

There’s a buzz in the air as we make our way into the venue. Everybody is dressed up, and they seem so excited, you’d think they were walking the red carpet with all the accompanying glitz and glam of a title fight in Vegas.

“This is crazy,” I say.

The inside of the Warehouse has been set up with a ring in the middle and bleachers all around. There are more seats on the second floor overlooking the ring that are already full. Music booms through the space so loud it’s hurting my ears. It’s forcing people to shout to be heard over it, making it even worse. There are carts with drinks and snacks off to the side, and in the corner is a booth with people taking bets on the fight. I can’t deny that the atmosphere is electric. It really seems like a prize fight like Caesar's … though obviously, on a much smaller scale.

“Come on, I see a couple of seats up front,” Lila says.

Before I can say a word, Lila grabs my hand and drags me down an aisle between a pair of bleachers. And sure enough, there is a pair of seats in the front row.

“Quick,” she says. “Sit.”

I do as she says and drop onto the hard aluminum bench. Lila throws her jacket down onto the bench beside me and looks around, no doubt searching the faces in the crowd for the object of her obsession. The curl that creeps across her lips tells me she’s spotted her prey. I follow her gaze and see a tall, blond guy standing with what looks like some of his frat brothers. He’s got that typical air of an entitled frat boy about him, which I find an automatic turn-off.

“I’m going to go get us a drink,” she says.

“Don’t leave me here alone, Lila.”

“What? When have I ever done something like that?”

“All the time,” I respond. “It happens almost every time we go out. You beg me to go and hook up with some guy and leave me all alone. Please don’t do that tonight.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear. I’ll make sure he gives you a lift home,” she says with a wink.

“You’re so sweet,” I reply dryly.

Lila flounces away, ostensibly to fetch us a drink, but part of me wonders if I’m going to see her again once she gets her hooks into Chris. She seems unusually fixated on him. He’s a good-looking guy; there’s no question about that. But he seems kind of douchey. To me, he looks like the kind of guy you need to watch your drink around when you’re at the bar. But that seems to be Lila’s type, so to each their own, I guess.

I glance around, doing my best to avoid meeting the eyes of all the testosterone-laden college boys, hoping they’ll take a hint and leave me alone. The minutes tick by, and I start to worry that Lila has abandoned me when she drops down on the bench next to me.

“Thank God,” I say and take the drink she brought.

“What? Did you think I was going to bail on you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

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