Page 106 of The Deceptions
My head falls forward into my hands as I sigh. I’m twenty-two years old. I’m a senior in college. Next year, Mal and I will be on our own, with degrees and working for our boss. But I can’tseem to shake this toxic relationship with my mother. She barely knows who I am some days. When I walk in, she swears I’m her first boyfriend—my father. And sometimes, she looks at me like I’m a stranger visiting her at the nursing home.
I shake my head when Mack and Hux walk through in their gym shorts with their chins raised.
“Looks like our fight is last,” Mack says with a grin, coming to stand in front of me.
“Great,” I mutter, putting my phone away. The only reassurance I have is the round-the-clock nurses stationed there. I quickly text her nurse and let her know what’s happening. Because if I don’t alert them, she’ll call 911 and bring the cops to her room. I don’t need that again.
Mack doesn’t say anything else. Hell, he doesn’t hang around to ask about mom. He walks with Hux out the double doors to watch the fight between him and my best friend. I should go, too. But sometimes, being the caretaker of everyone around me is the most exhausting job of them all.
The crowdaround me goes absolutely bananas when Huxley and Malic jump into the ring with murder in their eyes. I swear every muscle on their impressive bodies bulges with every move. Malic carries himself with more ease, though. Floating across the space with a grin, enticing the crowd to scream his name. Hux glares at Malic with an intensity that might set him on fire. He rests in the corner, watching Malic exude all his energy.
Smart tactic on Hux's part. If Malic were a normal human being, then he'd waste all that on hyping up the crowd instead of rearranging Hux's face. Too bad Malic seems to be an extra-terrestrial with pent-up energy stored somewhere deep inside him. Hell, he doesn't even break a sweat when he jumps up and down, thudding his feet into the mat.
I shake my head. "Idiot," I murmur, sipping my beer to stifle my remarks. If only this bar served margaritas or something else fruity, I’d be in heaven. Instead, I’m stuck with this to drown out my pain.
Jordy eyes me with amusement, knowing exactly what's going through my mind. But he doesn't say anything.
"Oh my God!" Simon howls happily, throwing his arm in the air. His body sways slightly, and Jordy puts an arm around his waist to steady him.
"Careful there, Si," he mutters, pulling Si into his side protectively. "I'm cutting you off." Jordy looks sternly at Simon, causing the man to pout and stomp his foot.
Oh, yeah. Simon is absolutely wasted. It happened between the time of my fight and now. I guess we can’t leave him to his own devices. He’s not to be trusted around booze.
"This is just so exciting! Isn't it?" Simon shouts, tossing back his fifth and final beer of the night, emptying it. Jordy discreetly peels it from his hand and hands it back to the bartender, who nods in thanks. "They only fought once last year, and it was..." He whistles under his breath. "It was a sight to see! And Mack and Wilder? It's a night full of surprises!" he howls, throwing his head back. The rest of the crowd seems in sync with him as their voices carry through the Coliseum and cheer the two on.
Hux finally steps out of the corner of the ring, stretching his neck back and forth. The lights shine down on his body, highlighting the new ink he's procured throughout the years. I swallow hard, viewing the giant 224 located on his chest surrounded by white daisies. Up close and in person, it's massive. A dedication. But to whom? Certainly not to me. How could it be when he was directly responsible for my untimely death? Or not-so-death. Whatever.
His ink decorates almost every inch of his abdomen, chest, arms, and back. They're abstract. Mostly shapes, faces, and others I can't quite make out. My breath catches in the back of my throat. I expected it to be there. Maybe covered up. But it's not. It's small. Our first tattoo together.
"You're sure about this?" I ask, nervously biting my lip.
"What? That we want to dedicate our lives to you? Uh, duh," Mack says, kissing my temple and lingering. "We wouldn't have it any other way."
"It's our promise to you, Spitfire." The neon signs of the tattoo shop illuminate
JJ’s face in pinks and blues as we stand outside the establishment.
"Okay," Hux says, coming out the front door. "He says he can get the four of us in together in about an hour. Seems they're having a slow day." Hux grins, holding out a piece of paper. "This is the font we chose." How he managed to get us an appointment when we’re underage, I’ll never know. They probably know who his father is.
I swallow hard, looking at the words printed in pretty cursive. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. Always.
"You're the always," JJ murmurs, circling the word several times with his finger as his eyes linger on my watery expression.
We’re really doing this. Cementing ourselves to each other.
"I'm the today," Mack snorts, shaking his head.
"I'm the tomorrow," Hux says.
"I'm the forever," JJ says smugly.
"You all planned this out, didn't you?" I ask, looking between the three of them with wide eyes. There’s no way they hadn’t fought about this without agreeing beforehand who got what word on them.
"You know it's us against the world, Trouble," Hux says, taking my chin between his fingers. "This is a symbol of our dedication. We talked about it before we came or said anything to you."
"It won't hurt, will it?" I ask, blinking several times. I never dreamed of having a tattoo. Not with my father's watchful eye.But now? It's time to defy him in every sort of way. He trusts these guys because they're Franco's sons.
"Will it be worth it if there's no pain involved?" Hux asks, tilting his head. "That's what this world is, Trouble. Painful."
