Fighting Fate (Fighting #7) Page 9

He flicks at something on the table and shakes his head. “No.”

  I drop my chin, hating the vibe that’s forming between us. “Hey, Kill? I hope you know I—”

  “Hey, babe.” Clifford pulls out the chair between Killian and me with a loud scrape against the concrete.

  Killian leans back in his chair and wipes the concerned look he was wearing clean off his face. Clifford looks between us and shrugs. “What did I interrupt?” He reaches out and grabs my hand.

  Killian pins Clifford’s hand on mine with a glare, and the ache I felt when he was with Brynn earlier comes back. He doesn’t like seeing me with a guy any more than I like seeing him with a girl, and for two best friends, how fucked up is that?

  I slide my hand free and put it to use by taking a bite of my sandwich, which smells off. Gamey or something, maybe it’s expired. “Yeah, we were just talking about my dad.”

  “Does he have a fight coming up or something?” Clifford lights a cigarette, and while he’s busy doing that, Killian and I share a glance.

  Clifford doesn’t know about my biological father Trip or my asshole ex-stepdad Stewart. All he knows is Blake “The Snake” Daniels is my adopted, and for all intents and purposes my only, Dad.

  “Yeah, I think he does.”

  “Sweet, let me know when so I can get some money on it.”

  Killian blows out an annoyed breath that Clifford doesn’t seem to pick up on.

  He takes a long pull from his cigarette. making no attempt to divert the exhale of smoke and it billows directly into our faces. “You have plans for Valentine’s Day, Killian?”

  I fan away the fumes and stare at my friend, more interested in his answer than I bet Clifford is.

  Killian’s gaze stays on mine and he nods. “I do.”

  It’s like a kick to the chest, but I push through the unwarranted pain and smile. “With Brynn?”

  He grins shyly and nods.

  I know that smile. He likes her. God, why does that hurt so bad?

  “Nice, well if you’re interested, we’re having a Fuck V-day party at my place that night.”

  I jerk my head to Clifford. “What? I thought we were—”

  “Oh, we’re going out first, but afterward we’re having a party.” He must see the disappointment on my face because his expression grows soft. “Hey, don’t worry. You’ll love what I have planned.”

  The last thing I want to do on the anniversary of that day is be stuck at an obnoxious party with Clifford’s stupid friends.

  Killian’s eyes communicate so much as he stares across the table at me: sadness, sympathy, and maybe some regret.

  “Listen, I, uh…” I wad up my trash and grab my backpack. “I’m going to skip my next class and head home for a bit. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and I’m feeling pretty crappy.”

  “Sounds good, babe.”

  Killian pushes up from his seat. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Dude.” Clifford stands too, blowing noxious smoke between the three of us. “You act like she’s walking around without a burka in Afghanistan. I think she can get to her car okay without an escort.”

  Killian doesn’t acknowledge Clifford’s lame territorial display and takes my trash to the can for me. He grabs my backpack like we’re some old couple that has been taking care of each other for the last fifty years, and as much as I wish I could tell him to give it back and I can carry it myself, I don’t.

  I step up to Clifford to give him a hug good-bye, but he dips down for a kiss. I turn my head and his smoky lips press against my cheek. “No kiss, huh?”

  Is he fucking serious? “I told you I don’t feel good.”

  “Alright, alright.” He throws his arms up. “Whatever.”

  I turn to Killian, who’s waiting patiently but scowling hard at Clifford. As soon as we’re out of earshot, he mutters, “That guy is such an ass.”

  For the first time today, a genuine smile pulls at my lips.

  Killian walks me to my car, throws my backpack in the back, and makes me promise I’ll text him as soon as I get home so he knows I’m safe.

  Always taking such good care of me.

  What would I ever do without him?

  Maybe that’s what I was feeling earlier when I saw him with Brynn. If he dated someone else, I’d lose him. After all, how many girls would put up with how close we are? The occasional sleepover, him dragging me out of parties drunk, leaving to walk me to my car because I’m sick, no girl would be okay with that.

  I swallow back bile as it rushes up to my throat.

  I can’t lose him to someone else.

  But I can’t allow him to pass up on a chance at happiness with someone else either.

  Ten

  Killian

  “I realize it’s Valentine’s Day, but I’m not dropping three-hundo just to feed my date.” Ryder grunts through his last few reps under the bench press, slams the bar back on the rack, and sits up. “It’d be one thing if she was my woman, but I’ve made it clear this is a onetime thing with her.”

  I swipe sweat from my forehead with the towel that’s draped around my neck. “And how exactly did you do that?”

  He pulls weights off the bar and shrugs. “Flat out told her we’d go out and have a great time, make it an all-nighter if she’s interested, but I’m not looking to date anyone exclusively.”

  “She was cool with that?”

  “Seemed to be.” He loads the bar with heavier weight. “I figure we’d have a lot more fun if we went into the night, knowing what the expectations are.”

  I chuckle and head to the pull-up bar. “Yeah, but it kinda robs the illusion of romance. Why not just go and let the date play out?”

  “Because it’s Valentine’s Day and girls get weird about this fucking holiday. Everything means more than it is. A date is a promise of commitment. Sex is practically a wedding proposal. And whatever you do, don’t buy her a gift. That’s the kiss of death for the casual relationship.”

  I grind through some pull-ups, considering Ryder’s words. I hadn’t really thought through this date with Brynn and all it implies. I thought we’d go out and have a good time, but at the end of the night, we’d go our separate ways, and if anything, I’d gain a friend out of the whole thing.

  But this… Shit. I’m not prepared for all this.

  I suppose I could take Ryder’s lead and have the talk with her tonight when I call her. Let her know that I’m not looking for a relationship right now. But doesn’t that imply that she is? She could laugh in my face at my presumptuous attitude.

  “So I say we find somewhere fairly inexpensive, but fun. Make it less about fine china and fucking champagne and more about having a good time.”

  I drop slowly from the pull-up bar, savoring the burn in my lats and biceps. “So we hit dinner and then what?”

  He flashes a wicked grin. “Party, what else?”

  “Fine by me.” As long as I stay busy enough to keep my mind off Axelle spending her first Valentine’s Day in four years with Cliff the fuckface, I’m all in.

  ~~~

  After the gym, I come straight home to call Brynn. As I stare down at her name on my phone, my finger hovers over the send button.

  I remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong. Axelle made plans with Clifford before I did with Brynn, but I can’t help but feel like I’m going behind Ax’s back.

  I groan and drop my head into my hand. “Stop being a pussy-whipped little bitch.”

  Before I can change my mind, I hit “send” and press the phone to my ear, half hoping I get her voicemail.

  “Hello?”

  No such luck.

  “Hey, Brynn?”

  “Yeah, hey, Killian, I was hoping you’d call.”

  “Promised I would.”

  “I’m glad you did. Ever since we bumped into each other earlier today, I’ve been thinking about you.”

  I rub my forehead as panic wreaks havoc on my central nervous system. “Oh…yeah?”
/>
  She giggles, but it’s throatier, heavy with…something. “It’s embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but yeah… It’s just… I’ve wanted to get to know you since last year, but I was just too nervous to talk to you.”

  For a second, I’m shocked by her confession, but then I remember that although I still feel like the biggest dork in school, I no longer look like one. If she only knew that inside this big body hides a scrawny, terrified nerd.

  “We’re getting to know each other now.” God, did that sound flirty? I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.

  “And I’m really happy about that. What’re you doing?”

  “Oh, what? Like right now?”

  “Yeah.” There’s a smile in her voice.

  “Just got home from training, gearing up to study for a bio test I have tomorrow. You?”

  “I just got out of the shower.”

  I blink and stare at the wall of books in front of me. “Oh.” I suck at this. And it feels wrong, so, so wrong, yet the stirring in my blood can’t be ignored.

  “I need to get dressed. Can you hang on for a sec?”

  And now I’m picturing her naked. “Sure?”

  “I mean, unless you can think of a reason why I should stay naked?”

  Holy shit. Is she…? Is this…? “Uhh…”

  “I’m on my bed. Are you?”

  I bite my lip and close my eyes.

  “I wish you were here—oh my God, Ashley!” There’s a rustling of some kind and then mumbling. “…knock first!”

  This is awkward as hell.

  “Killian, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Listen. I just wanted to tell you that we’re going to Kahunaville tomorrow night and then to a party.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Why does she sound disappointed?

  “I’ll pick you up at seven. Just text me your address.”

  “Of course, sounds good.”

  “So I, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She hangs up and I stare at my phone for a few seconds. Are women usually this aggressive? And if that’s how she is the first time we talk on the phone, what’s she going to be like when we’re together on a date?

  On Valentine’s Day.

  Shit, maybe we should’ve had the talk Ryder suggested.

  I don’t think she realizes she’s about to go out with a twenty-one-year-old virgin who is helplessly in love with someone else.

  Eleven

  Axelle

  I couldn’t look more anti-Valentine’s Day if I tried.

  Staring at my reflection, I almost laugh at the glam-goth thing I’ve got going on. If Cupid had an enemy, it would be me.

  I slide on my chunkiest black biker-esque heels, complete with buckles and a thick sole, just in case I need to stomp on the pudgy diaper-wearing fairy who’s aiming his arrows at everyone but me. The spaghetti strap of my purple racer-back tank slides off my bare skin, and yeah, I’m not even wearing a bra because fuck Valentine’s Day.

  I grab my full glass of wine off the dresser and attempt another sip, but end up pouring the whole thing out. I’m too annoyed to drink, and that’s probably for the best.

  Lord knows all I need to make this night a complete disaster is to pour a little liquid anger on my already foul mood.

  “I still don’t understand why you agreed to go if you hate it so much.” Mindy’s in the kitchen, sipping her glass of wine, her feelings for the day clearly not turning her stomach. Lucky brat.

  “You look great.” I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and nurse it, hoping it’ll cool my mood.

  She does a cute little spin, showing off her bright red mini-dress and super strappy heels. “And my panties match.”

  “Yay!” Ugh.

  She narrows her eyes. “Axelle, why do you hate Valentine’s Day so much?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t hate it.”

  “Really? So you’re dressed like a biker-vampire who looks like she’s ready to drain the male race just for the fun of it because…?”

  “I’m not—”

  “You’re wearing pants.” She pulls up my hand and shows it to me. “Black fingernails, Ax? I mean, if I were a guy, I’d be terrified to get my dick anywhere near that scowl you’re wearing. And this?” She motions to my face with a swirl of her finger. “You’re taking heroin chic to a whole new level.”

  “Okay, I get it! You don’t approve.” I salute her. “Ten-four, boss!”

  She sighs and takes a sip of wine. “Poor, poor Clifford. He’s in a no-win situation tonight.”

  “He’s taking me to dinner and then back to his place for a party, Mindy. I mean this is far from a romantic evening. I’ve been with the guy for like three months now, and outside of his bedroom, we’ve never even hung out alone. So don’t make tonight out to be any different from any other night, because for me it’s just like last night, but I had to put a whole hell of a lot more effort into getting ready.” I’m practically panting I’m so annoyed.

  “What time is he picking you up?” The cheeriness in her voice makes her message clear. She wants my angry-ass gone. Not that I blame her.

  I snag my keys off the counter. “I’m meeting him at his place. I’m already late. And I won’t be home until tomorrow, so the apartment’s yours.”

  “Axelle.”

  I whirl around, expecting to have to defend myself from another one of her verbal onslaughts, but instead she wraps me in a hug.

  “I understand. And seriously, you can do better.” She pulls back, and I have to look away from the concern I sense in her stare.

  “Have fun tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with that, I’m gone.

  A few minutes later I pull up to Clifford’s, and the driveway and street outside his place are already packed with cars. Looks like the party started early.

  I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and wish I’d never agreed to go out tonight. To think that I could be home watching a movie with Killian, not needing to explain my shitty mood because he already knows everything about me. He’d tread carefully, keep the mood light, and steer the subjects away from anything parent-related. He’d go out of his way to make me laugh, and always before he’d leave, he’d hug me for so long, not letting go until he whispered, “Their loss,” as if to remind me that the men in my life have given up the honor of knowing me.

  My fingers itch to call him, to beg him to drop everything and spend tonight with me, but the problem is I know he will.

  I know, and always have, that if I need him he’d drop everything to be there. And as selfish as I am, as badly as I want nothing more than that right now, there’s no way I could do that to him.

  Not after the smile I saw on his face when he was with Brynn. If anyone on this earth deserves happiness, deserves to live a life of love and success, it’s Killian McCreery.

  I drag myself from my car, and already it’s as if this godforsaken holiday has sapped me of my energy. As my feet carry me to the door, I prepare for what’ll lie within.

  Clifford and twenty of his closest friends are huddled around the television, smoking weed, with the music blaring. And when I push through the front door without knocking that’s exactly what I see.

  Fuck.

  “Babe!” Clifford hops up from the couch, throwing his controller to the guy next to him with orders to “Play for me until I get back.”

  He crosses to me and I take in what he’s wearing: his favorite pair of skinny jeans, a Jane’s Addiction T-shirt, and combat boots. Nice to see he dressed up. Fucking asshole.

  He moves to hug me, but stops just shy of touching me.

  “What is it, babe?” I snarl and he jerks back. “Is there something in my teeth?”

  His eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”

  He did not just ask me that.

  “Am I okay?” My fists clench at my sides. “Did you just ask me if I’m okay?”

  He nods, but says, “No.”r />
  “Good, that’s good Clifford, because if you’d asked me if I was okay, it would imply that you don’t know why the fuck I’m not okay, and I hope to hell you are not that stupid.”

  “Oh snap! She got you, Clifford!” one of his friends pipes up from the living room.

  “Come on. I think we need to talk.” He grabs my arm, but I wrench it from his grip. He throws his hands up and nods down the hallway. “I just want to talk to you, babe, but not in front of an audience.”

  I flick my hair, which took me an hour to flat iron, and stomp down the hallway to storm into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind us and I whirl on him. “If you don’t mind, can we skip the lies and excuses and move straight to the ass-kissing? That’s my favorite part anyway.”

  “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

  I grin. I can’t help it. He really is a fuckin’ idiot. “You asked me out on a date tonight.” I say the words slow and clearly so he can understand. Maybe I should draw him a picture story, dumb shit.

  He blinks and has the audacity to look confused. “Right. And I told you we we’re having a party.”

  “After our date!”

  He props his hands on his hips and sighs while studying his feet. “This is why I don’t do the girlfriend thing.”

  “Excuse me? The girlfriend thing? Is that what you think this is?”

  He meets me with an unwavering glare. “For me? Yeah.”

  A laugh shoots from my lips. “Really? Because we’ve never even been on a date, Clifford. This isn’t even a real relationship; all we do is hook up!”

  “If that’s true, then why are you all up on my nuts about a date?”

  If that isn’t the million-dollar question. I sink my fingers into my hair and grip tight. “I don’t know.”

  “Hey.” He steps closer to me, but still maintains some distance in case I might rip his dick off if he gets too close. Probably a smart bet. “I want to take you out to dinner, okay? I’d planned on asking you if you’d like that or if you want to order takeout, but you didn’t really give me a chance.”

  He’s right. I didn’t. For all I know he could have a limo waiting out back ready to steal us off to some fantastic restaurant and Vegas show.