It only took Cress a few days to get some attention online. At first, she was apprehensive about responding to the messages she started getting once she'd uploaded her profile photo. She was worried that they were only interested in her appearance, or worse, just looking for a booty call. When she voiced that worry to Thorne, he just laughed it off.
"You, a booty call?"
She wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered. Knowing Thorne, he probably meant it as a good thing. Cress would never go for something like that, and he knew it. Thus began the hard task of weeding out the creeps from the gentlemen. It wasn't easy.
Her first in-person date took place a month after she made an account, which, in her opinion, was forever. She finally met a man online, though, who seemed decent, kind, and handsome. His unique name—Ze'ev—was actually what drew her to his profile the first time. He had initiated contact with her after remarking that her profile picture was cute, and had asked for more information about her. After thoroughly stalking his profile, which he'd given her access to, she learned that his name was of Hebrew origin and she had been immediately intrigued.
Cress was fascinated by other cultures. She researched his name and learned that it meant 'Wolf.' In one of their following chats, he explained that he was often called Wolf when he played sports.
Ze'ev was a more serious kind of guy, she discovered, but that was fine with her. She'd had enough of college boys without a grip on reality or any goals in life. Ze'ev had a steady job, great manners so far, and claimed to be quite a good cook—particularly with meat. He was extremely muscular, which Cress thought was very attractive, and the way his hair spiked a little messily made her crazy in a good way. It made her want to run her hands through it in real life.
At twenty-eight, Ze'ev was a good six years older than her, but Cress knew she was mature for her age, and a guy who was twenty-eight would likely be interested in settling down sooner than later. Thorne thought Ze'ev was too old for her, and insisted on driving her to and from their date. Cress wanted to give Ze'ev the opportunity to drive her home and—if everything went well—walk her to her apartment and give her an iconic first kiss at the doorway. She didn't tell Thorne that, though. He'd probably laugh at her and tell her that she spent too much time reading books about epic love stories.
When she'd argued that Ze'ev wasn't, in fact, too old for her, Thorne had taken the position of "well, he could be a creep and I'm not letting him drive you" instead. Cress had just rolled her eyes and accepted it, since she didn't want to waste an entire evening bickering about it. Besides, it was kind of sweet that he cared enough to waste his Saturday evening waiting for her to call when she was ready to go home.
The car ride over was excruciating. Thorne kept telling her to relax, but she was a bundle of nerves. What if Ze'ev was the right guy for her? What if tonight sparked an epic romance that burned so brightly it would never end? But worse, what if he wasn't? What if he didn't like her? What if she didn't like him? What if—
"I can't believe you're going to a boxing match."
Cress glanced at Thorne, who was grinning slyly at her from the driver's seat. She shrugged. "He said boxing was a big part of his life."
"Do you even like boxing?"
"I don't know. I've never tried it."
"Well, I think it's good that this guy has you trying new stuff. But I still think that going to a boxing match is a bit weird for a first date, though."
She shrugged again. "He said that he thinks it's a good first date because I'll get to see this part of him, which is apparently important to him. I think it's great that he wants to be open about his passions from the start."
Thorne chuckled as they stopped at a light. "Well I hope he at least got you good seats."
"Apparently we're right in the front."
"Big spender, huh," Thorne remarked. "Good for him, spoiling you from the beginning."
Cress beamed, which made Thorne chuckle again. "Look at you, Damsel, totally smitten and you haven't even met the guy yet."
"I am not smitten."
He ruffled her hair with his free hand. "Just so adorably excited you're going to burst."
She shoved his hand away and yanked down the sun visor to inspect herself in the mirror. "You're messing up my perfect hair," she said, annoyed. "It only took an hour to straighten it."
"Touch-y," he sang.
"You're a pain."
"You're a pain."
"Wow, great comeback, Thorne."
"I have others. I just didn't want to bust them out on the eve"—his voice dropped to a dramatic whisper—"of your special date."
That comment earned him a quick jab in the ribs, but he didn't retaliate, just grinned. "Look, we're almost there. Fix your hair already so I can get on with my Saturday night."
As they approached the stadium, she told Thorne where to drop her off. As expected, Ze'ev stood waiting for her at the side entrance. When she pointed him out to Thorne, his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. "That's your date?"
"What?" she said, staring intently out the window.
Ze'ev was waiting with a white rose, a marker that they'd decided on to make sure they spotted one another. His hair was even messier than the photos, and the lights on top of the stadium made its dark color almost glow against his olive skin. He was dressed more casually than she had expected—training shoes, track pants, and a hoodie—but his muscular build still stood out despite his baggier clothes.
"That guy is a beast," said Thorne. "He must be like, 6'3"."
"Six feet four inches," she recited from his profile photo. "And very ripped."
"Clearly."
"I think I'm over-dressed," said Cress looking down at herself. Though he'd said to not dress up, she'd still picked out a cute, knit dress that she hoped clung in the right places. "But at least I wore heels."
"Why do you need heels at a boxing match?"
"Not for the boxing match, Thorne! I mean, in case we kiss."
Thorne swallowed. "Listen, Cress. I don't know if this is such a good idea. I can't beat that guy up if he tries anything. In fact, forget that I told you to threaten them with your scary best friend. Don't even mention me."
"Way to wuss out," she said, crinkling her brow at him. "And it's not going to be necessary. I mean, look at him. He's adorable."
"Adorable is not the adjective that comes to mind. You, Cress, at five feet, are adorable. He's…something else entirely."
"I bet he's a gentle giant. C'mon, if you don't drive any faster he'll think I changed my mind or something."
Thorne pulled into a parking spot instead. "Maybe he didn't even see you yet. And if he did, it's fine to make him sweat for a minute. That's part of the ritual, isn't it? Waiting for the girl to show up."
"Thorne," she whined, "I need you to drop me off and act like my friend and not an over-protective big brother."
Thorne let his hands fall onto his legs, and then found his pockets. "Fine. But I hope you packed pepper spray. Preferably mace."
Cress leaned in to give him a hug. He reciprocated, but then pulled back to look at her. "What was that for?"
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Because, even at six feet, you're really adorable too."
"I am not adorable. I'm charming."
"Will you drive me over there already?"
He sighed. "Okay."
Thorne pulled out of the parking space and did a small circle before stopping right in front of Ze'ev, who was still gripping his white rose. Cress saw him bouncing around a bit on the balls of his feet, and she wondered if maybe he was nervous too. His face lit up with recognition when he saw her. Cress' heart pattered. If he dropped the track outfit and wore a tuxedo, he'd surely look like the combination of a hero and a spy. The thought thrilled her. She hopped out of the car with just a small cursory wave at Thorne, who didn't look back as he drove away.
"Hi Ze'ev," she said shyly, looking up at him. From this close, Thorne did have a small point about his sheer physical presence. But only a small one. Next to him, she felt like she would be protected from any harm that might come her way.
"Hi Cress," he said, his voice lower and more gruff than she'd expected. "You look beautiful." He held out the rose to her, and she accepted it gladly.
"Thanks, Ze'ev."
"Please, call me Z."
"Okay, Z."
They stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments, but then Z held out his arm for her. "We should get inside."
She looped her hand around his arm excitedly. "Sorry we're running a little late. I hope the game hasn't started yet."
"Oh, no worries, it won't start without me. And it's a match, not a game. A technicality, some might argue, but nonetheless important."
Cress nodded as he opened the back door for them. He must be an important VIP if they would hold off the game—er, match—for him. Maybe he had season tickets. Did they even have that sort of thing for boxing? She was afraid to ask.
"So, have you ever seen a match before?"
"Um, no."
"That's okay," he said. "Here are the rules: There are a certain number of three-minute rounds, usually a total of 12." He weaved her through small walkways inside, and it gave her the impression of being inside an opera house, rather than a stadium. "Between each round, you get a minute to go into your assigned corner and talk to your coach. There's a referee who controls the fight and works inside the ring to control and judge the conduct of the fighters. He will also call fouls, count knocked-down fighters, and that sort of thing."
Cress spaced out a little as he went into more detail. She didn't really need to know everything about boxing. She could always ask him as they watched the fight. After all, he seemed like the type of guy who would feel more manly if he could explain the game to his date while it was going on. She would feign some interest and ooh and aah at all the right moments. It would be perfect. Then they would share some popcorn, maybe eat a hot dog or two, and perhaps even get featured on the kiss cam.
She smiled at the thought, and Z looked down at her encouragingly. "I know, it's really interesting, isn't it?" Cress just continued to smile, unable to burst his bubble. Hey, maybe his enthusiasm for this sport would eventually rub off on her.
They veered left and a burst of light hit her so hard that she almost had to cover her eyes. They were in the main arena now, and not just that, they were standing in an open corridor that was practically eye-level with the ring. When they walked down the corridor, the crowd roared. Cress grinned again, excitement filling her being. This type of energy was exhilarating! As they continued walking, though, she noticed that many people were applauding and cheering when they passed them. Some of them even reached out and patted Z on the back. She noticed they were chanting something, but she couldn't make out the words. He led her to the very first seat in front of the ring. He really had gone all out for this, hadn't he?
She turned to him when she noticed that there was only one spot left in the reserved seating section, though. Z's face had broken out into a full-blown grin—one that made his features light up in a way she hadn't noticed before. It was beautiful.
"I think someone took our seats," she said, confused.
"I have a surprise for you!" he said, still grinning like mad. Then he whipped off his hoodie, revealing nothing but the most chiseled abs she had ever seen in her life. She almost swooned, but her confusion at what he was doing kept her rooted firmly where she stood. The crowd went wild as he turned to them and flexed his muscles. Wait…
"I'm going to be fighting tonight."
Cress blinked. "You—what?"
She gasped in shock as he ripped off his track pants, showcasing the shiny dark boxing shorts that he'd apparently had on underneath. Stitched at the top right hand corner by his waist was one simple word: Wolf.
"This is one of my bigger matches, Cress," he said, and before she knew what was happening, he had swept her off her feet and twirled her into the air. "Isn't she gorgeous?" he bellowed out into the crowd.
Cress saw that she was being broadcast on the TV above the ring, and that her face was an embarrassingly red hue. She tried to smile, but panic gripped her. She did not like being in the spotlight. Except for maybe a kiss cam.
This was definitely not a kiss cam.
He put her down just as quickly, and someone—a trainer maybe—ran up to him. "Wolf, we're ready to go. Hunter's waiting on the other side."
Z nodded and turned solemnly to Cress. She still felt shell-shocked at his surprise. "Don't look so worried. I know Hunter is undefeated, but so am I." He gestured for her to sit down. Cress sat. "I'm glad you're here to witness this."
Cress started to understand what the crowd was chanting. Wolf. Wolf. Wolf. Wolf.
"This match is for you, Cress. Celebratory drinks on me when this is over."
Cress smiled weakly and gave him two thumbs up. "Go get 'em, Tiger. I mean…Wolf."
He nodded solemnly and ran towards the ring. The crowd erupted in delight again. Cress sank into her seat, dread washing over her. "Boxing is a big part of my life," he'd said. What she clearly hadn't realized was that boxing was a big part of his life because he was a boxer. An enthusiastic sports fan she could handle, an actual athlete maybe not. The whole point of going to sporting events was to hang out together, not to actually care so much about the sport itself, right?
Wrong.
Halfway through the match, Cress still sat in her chair, nearly paralyzed by all the violence taking place in the ring. Z had taken so many hits to the face that she was sure he would be maimed for life. It was hard to imagine scars covering his striking face. His lips and nose were bloody, and sweat glistened off of his body. Hunter, his opponent, didn't look much better. Each time that one of them punched the other, Cress gasped out loud in fear. It was complete brutality. Sometimes, Hunter would make sadistic remarks at Wolf, once even targeting Cress. She'd nearly cried at the awful things he'd said. Z, though, had seen the look on her face and punched Hunter square in the jaw when they weren't even supposed to be fighting. He'd taken a foul for that. For her. Though he looked proud, she'd had enough.
She sent a quick snapchat of him in the ring to Thorne, with the caption HELP ME. This was not the time for subtlety. The app notified her that Thorne had opened it and even taken a screenshot of her photo before it disappeared. The traitor. She got a snap video back from him almost immediately. He was laughing hysterically. This made her sink even lower into her chair.
During the next round, Cress slipped out. She doubted that "Wolf" even noticed. Once outside the stadium, Cress sat down on the curb, defeated. What a disaster of a first date. How was it even possible that of all the people she'd painstakingly vetted, she'd ended up with the one person who spent his Saturday nights fighting in a ring? She looked at the flower he had gotten her and threw it on the ground. Then she spent the rest of her time waiting for Thorne to arrive crushing every piece of it with her heels. Slowly. Brutally.
Just like the match.
Thorne's familiar car finally rounded the corner, and she breathed a sigh of relief. When she jumped up to get in the car, though, she saw that Kate was already sitting in the passenger seat, looking annoyed. Cress gingerly climbed in the back, mortification washing over her. It was like getting picked up by her parents, when all she really wanted was a friend to talk to right now.
"Hey, Cress," said Thorne. She was surprised he didn't try to tease her about her date-gone-wrong.
"Hi. Hope I didn't mess up your date," she mumbled.
Kate placed a hand on Thorne's knee. "Our night was only getting started, so it's not that big of a deal. It would be great if you could get your own ride next time, though."
Thorne put his hand over hers. "I offered to pick Cress up, Kate. It's fine."
"My food is getting cold, Thorne."
He squeezed her hand. "We'll warm it up. No biggie."
Kate turned haughtily to Cress. "Fine. But maybe next time you could at least wait until the date is done before you ask Thorne to come get you. It's not like he was just waiting around for you to call."
"Sorry," said Cress again.
Thorne put the car into drive, and glanced back at her through the rearview mirror, an apologetic expression on his face. If he saw that a tear was sliding down her cheek, he didn't say anything.
A/N: Thanks to Andromeda Writes for reading half of this and making sure that 'Cresswolf' would never be a ship. ;)
