Page 9 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
How can I tell her that it’s the truth?
Smooth electronic music thumps through the speakers. She taps her fingers on the wheel as we cruise down the road. Outside, the sun is beating everything into submission. The desert is like an oven every time I walk outside. Tinted windows and air conditioning protect us from the heat, but none of it can stop this fire radiating in me.
I feel sowarmin her presence.
Cold winters in Philly were always the loneliest, hardest times in my life. Less street fights when snow is falling and the streets are icy, but something about those gray days, frigidstorms, and long nights always made me aware of my place in the world.
I’m nothing, nobody. Not even the sun feels like it’s meant to light up my life.
Catherine, from the way she laughs to her emerald eyes, makes me feel like I’m at the center of the universe, like all life is revolving around me and this moment, waiting to see what I’ll do.
I could ride in this car with her all day, listening to her sing softly, watching those delicate fingers strum the steering wheel.
“What are you staring at?”
Her angelic voice pulls me from my rapture.
We’re stopped at a red light. Catherine is looking at me like I just fell asleep and drooled all over her leather seats.
“Sorry…” I avert my gaze out the window. “Zoned out. Keep going. It’s the place with the big cactus on the sign.”
“You’re stayingthere?”
She makes it sound like it’s a local hellhole.
“Is that bad?”
“Not if you’re into meth or prostitution.” She gives me a side-eye.
“Just boxing—promise.”
I wasn’t picky when I found a place to stay. Honestly, if it weren’t so hot, I would have slept on the street until I could afford an apartment. But even a motel’s rickety air conditioning is better than the frying-pan sidewalk. Besides, I don’t know these streets like I know Philly.
We pull up into the parking lot. It’s a one-story building that wraps in a U-shape around the lot, broken pavement and dirt fighting for space. It’s the kind of rundown place I expected to find in the desert for only twenty-five bucks a night. A couple of dudes are sitting on an old sofa in front of one of the rooms,smoking and drinking under the building’s shade. I already sized them up when I got the room: nothing I can’t handle.
“You couldn’t find a nicer place?” Catherine asks, pulling into a spot.
She parked.
If she wanted me to hop out and go, she wouldn’t have parked. I don’t make a move to get out, happy to stay with her as long as she lets me (the air conditioning is the cherry on top).
“It’s cheap,” I say, running my fingers through my beard. “If I’m gonna find an apartment, I got to save the money I have. I haven’t locked down a job out here yet. You know of any part-time gigs hiring? Warehouses?”
“It would be better if you focused on training. My dad thinks you can go far, but he’s going to run you ragged. Seriously, he’s going to beat the hell out of you. I-I shouldn’t tell you this, but he wants to slot you for a fight in seven weeks.”
I lurch up in my seat. “That fast? For real?”
“Yeah. And there’s always money involved, even if you lose. A lot more if you win, though. I’m telling you, training with him will behard. Are you sure you can’t survive that long without working? I don’t think you’ll have the energy for both.”
I lean back, staring at the door to my room. Nothing is waiting for me in there. Just some clothes and toiletries. I rode a Greyhound out here with one bag, all I’ve got in life.
“I can afford the room, but it’ll be tight,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Your old man gonna feed me, too?”
“Only when you’re training,” she sighs. “Didn’t you save any money in the Navy?”
I don’t meet her eyes. “I wasn’t in long enough.”
“Why’d you get kicked out?”
