Page 57 of Craving the Player

Any prior thoughts that Ihave disappear as Ishake out my arms and walk down the hallway. The usual fog begins to crawl up my legs as golden light pours over my shoulders. Screaming voices pierce my eardrums as Iconfidently shrug out of my robe and hand it over to Dad.

Ipull at the velvet ropes and step inside the ring, basking in the adrenaline and screams of encouragement from the crowd. My feet repeatedly tap the pad as Ilet my eyes start sifting through the crowd, desperate to find my golden girl. And when Ido, my arm shoots to the ceiling in avictory-like celebration. She wore what Iasked. Pride surges through me when our eyes meet, my lungs constricting in away that has me wanting to clutch my chest. Ifight off the feeling and let asmile light up my face, aching to scream ahurray at the ceiling when she smiles back, shining from head to toe with pure, unfiltered bliss. The gold top clinging to her skin is anear-perfect match to the colour of my shorts and gloves. She looks exactly how Ipictured.

Iswear my heart slides to my throat when the light catches on the silver chain wrapped loosely around her dainty neck, the shine capturing my attention and holding it hostage as the room blurs behind her.

There was apart of me that didn’texpect her to wear it. To snuff it up to her pride and refuse to wear something of mine when Ihaven’teven told her how Ifeel. But she is wearing it. And Idon’tthink that Iever want it back. The rush of contentment that falls on my shoulders fills me with more than enough confidence to make this aquick, easy fight. I’ve never wanted to bail on afight so bad in my life. Ineed to touch her, tell her that she’smine and there’sno room for discussion.

When Ihear my opponent'sname being called out, Iforce myself to pull out of the trance and collect myself. After shooting her acheesy wink that has her throwing her arms up to cheer me on, Ifinally turn my attention to Jesse. He makes his way through the ropes, meeting me in the center of the ring with an icy scowl that Ican’twait to sink my knuckles into. He’sabout an inch or two shorter than me, but wider. Much wider. If it weren’tfor the constant drug tests we run before matches, Iwould assume that he’sbecome good friends with aperformance enhancement drug named Steroid. His size doesn’tshake me, though. I’ve trained and fought bigger guys than Jesse. He might be stronger, but I know that I’mfaster on my feet.

Keeping my eyes from drifting to where Iknow Sierra stands watching is anew form of torture. No distractions, Braden. Forget she'sthere. The reminder has me shaking my head as if the simple movement would somehow do what I've been unable to do for weeks now.

My dad has moved to the crowd now, and Ispot him holding my mouthguard from between the ropes. Islip off one of my gloves and pop in the guard, gnawing on the silicone out of habit. It’salways driven my dad crazy, but fear of pissing off the old bastard has never stopped me from doing anything.

Islip mine back on before tapping them against Jesse’sextended ones. Taking astep back, Iraise my arms to protect my chest seconds before the round begins and Jesse throws the first punch.

As the hot, thick air starts to fill my burning lungs once again, Ilet my arm hang from the hand of the referee in celebration of my hard-earned win. It only took six rounds for Jesse to give up awin that he was never going to get, but it was ahard, exhausting six rounds. I’ll be sore tomorrow for sure.

Iknow that Dad'swaiting outside the ring—having seen him take off in that direction as soon as Iclaimed victory—ready to collect my exhausted body in case Idrop dead any minute. Which, if it happens, Iwouldn'tbe surprised.

Jesse deserved way more credit than we gave him. He was faster than Iexpected for being so massive, more domineering, too. But sloppy with his tells, like arookie. Like Clayton. That’swhat cost him the round, not my speed or experienced throws.

As soon as my arm flops back against my side, Icarry myself to the edge of the ring and let Dad help me through the ropes and back to the locker room.

"Ihate you," Ihiss when he doesn’tmake enough room for both of us to fit side by side through the entrance. My side bumps the door handle and Iwince, gnashing my teeth. The locker room has never looked more inviting as Ifall onto the wooden bench and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing coming from the left side of my face.

"You didn'tstrike first," Dad points out, shrugging and sits down beside me with alarge medical kit. Ihave no clue when he went and got that, but Idon'tgive arat'sass as long as it helps with this fucking pain.

"Oh fuck off, you old shit."

"That was insane!" Ashrill voice bouncing off the walls only deepens the throb in my forehead as Ithrow my hands over my ears.

"Your eyebrow!" Sierra gasps, pushing her way past an exhilarated Sophie to crouch in front of me, concern swimming in her silver eyes. Suddenly the only touch Ifeel is hers as she drags her thumb above what Ican only assume is adecently split brow. My eyes close at the gentle touch as the throb becomes athing of the past.

"How bad do Ilook?" Igrit out, flinching at the sting in my bottom lip as Ispeak.

"You've definitely looked better," she replies lightly, her beautiful face all scrunched up with concern. Iwant to reach out and grab onto her, but her fingertips leave my face before Ican, and I’mleft with araw feeling of disappointment.

Opening my eyes again, Isee her knelt down on the floor, getting ready to take over my father’stask of cleaning my wounds. It’sthen that Irealize we’re alone, everyone having taken off.

"Iscared them off, eh?" Imumble, watching her with an intensity that I’msure she feels in her gut. She scrunches her lips to the side as she focuses on what she’ll need to use to clean me up.

After afew silent seconds, awet towel is pressed to my brow, bringing aburning sensation with it. There’san unguarded sense of worry on her face, and Iwould be lying if Isaid it didn’tfill me with pleasure to have her want to fix me up. Iwant to bottle up the look in her eyes and keep it for abad day.

"Your concern is adorable, baby. But Ialways thought our first time roleplaying nurse and patient would involve abed, not awooden bench."

She replies by pressing down way harder than necessary on the cut, laughing lightly when my features twist in pain.

"Hey, hey. Take it easy. I'mwounded." Igrin, ignoring my sore lip and reach up to wrap my fingers around her small, dainty wrist. Her skin is warm and soft and Iwant nothing more than to go home and feel every inch of it pressed against mine. "I'mjust teasing, my little fighter. Ireally do appreciate your help."

She seems pleased with my more sincere words as she pulls the cloth away from my face and nods. "You shouldn'tneed stitches, but I'mguessing you already knew that."

Idid, but it’sadorable that she still felt the need to tell me. "You know what Ido need, though?"

She cocks abrow, entertaining the question.

"Acelebratory kiss. Idid win for you, after all."

Sierra rolls her eyes, only making me inch closer to her, not buying the uninterested facade. Islowly grab the wet fabric from between her fingers and set it down beside me. Her cheeks darken, eyes wandering off behind me.

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