This girl has clearly been in a fight or two before. Normally my fights border on effortless. That is definitely not the case tonight. I keep trying to anticipate her moves but she pulls back at the last second and switches things up on me. We're in the 8th round and if I don't end this soon it could come down to a decision, which I hate.
I dodge a blow aimed at my head and unleash a flurry of jabs into her stomach. I think I've got enough time to throw another at her jaw but just as I pull back, her fist catches me square in the face. I stumble once before regaining my momentum and block before hitting her in the nose with as much force as I can muster. She wobbles before losing her balance and I can see in her eyes she's completely dazed. Blood gushes from her nostrils and she stumbles, trying to keep on her feet. Finally she hits the floor and once David makes it to 10 and declares me the winner I unstrap my gloves with my teeth and attempt to take inventory on my face. I almost never let a head shot slip past my defenses. I could attribute it to my distracted state of mind, but in truth the girl was pretty good.
I can feel a throbbing in my nose and my right eye is swelling a bit. Great. Now I'll have to wake up half an hour early in the morning so I can camouflage the damage with makeup.
"Shit, she got you pretty good," Kelsey says as she hands me my hooded sweatshirt.
I yank it over my head wordlessly, frustrated with myself, and make my way over to David to pick up my winnings.
"Girl you killed it. I was a little concerned about you with this one, but you came through. Trust me, it's worth the shiner." He hands me a wad of cash and as I count it I realize he wasn't exaggerating about it being worth it. There's double what I normally make in this stack. I tuck it away and say my goodbyes before we head out of the gym through the back entrance.
A few more fights like this over the spring semester and I'll be able to completely pay off my senior year. One step closer to no longer having to fight my way through college. That's something at least.
"Just hop in the shower when we get back. I'll have the frozen peas and aspirin waiting for you." Kelsey speeds out of the parking lot and we're home within a few minutes.
All I want to do is take a hot shower to soothe my aching muscles and sleep for twelve hours. I'm seriously considering skipping my first class tomorrow when I step out of the car and see Dean walking up the path to our apartment complex. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
"Hey Jessie, I was just—what the hell happened to you?" He steps into me and takes my chin in his hand, tilting my face to the side to get a better look at what is probably the start of a hideous black eye.
"Uh, I'll meet you upstairs…" Kelsey the deserter quickly makes her way into the apartment, leaving me to face the music alone.
"Who did this to you?" Dean now has my face in both of his hands. His eyes are blazing and his face is set in such a murderous expression that I can't help but smile a little.
"You're really cute when you get all macho and protective, did you know that?"
"Jessie I'm about to lose my shit if you don't tell me who the fuck put their hands on you," he growls the last few words and all humor is now gone.
"Dean, I'll explain but can we please go upstairs? I'm so exhausted." I place my hand on his arm and try to pull him behind me as I head for the main doors.
"I'm not going anywhere until you start talking to me." He holds firm and refuses to budge.
I sigh. He's obviously not going to make this easy. "Trust me, it was my own fault."
"I find that hard to believe. If some asshole hit you I want to know who he is so I can go beat his ass. I don't care what you said or did."
"Please Dean, just let it go." I attempt a pleading expression but pain shoots through my cheekbone and I wince, sending Dean into a rage.
"How do you expect me to do that?! You're in front of me looking like someone just attacked you, and you want me to calm down? What the fuck Jess?!" He turns, at a loss for how to deal with his own emotions and letting his anger win out, plows his hand into the nearest stationary object. Which happens to be the graffiti-covered plexiglass wall of an ancient phone booth that sits in front of our building.
"Dean stop! Oh my god, look at your hand. What the hell, I told you it wasn't a big deal." I grasp his wrist and turn his hand to see if he broke anything. When I see that at least no bones seem to be out of place and he just has two cuts on his knuckles, I slap his chest. "Ok, you want to know? Fine. But if you judge me, even once, I'm turning around and walking into that apartment and that's it. I will not defend myself to you, but you do have a right to know."
His expression has transformed from furious to confused, but still tinged with anger. He crosses his arms with his injured hand resting over his elbow. "If your first instinct is to assume I'm going to automatically judge you, then you really don't know me."
"It's not that. It's just…I just…look this isn't easy for me." I can't even look at him for fear that I might let my emotions get the best of me. I don't know why I care so much about what he thinks of me, but the thought of him looking down on me, it just makes my stomach clench and my eyes sting.
"What? What isn't easy? Talking to me? Trusting me?"
"Yes! All of it! I don't do this," I gesture between the two of us. "I never have. It scares the hell out of me that for once I want to, and if telling you about this piece of myself changes the way you look at me, it would kill me."
That did it. The tears fill my eyes before I can blink them back. I lift my face to the sky and will the tears to stay in place.
Dean steps in front of me and places his uninjured hand on my cheek, drawing my gaze to his. "Jessie, you need to realize that I'm not going anywhere. Nothing you tell me could make me change the way I see you."
I take a breath because his closeness is overwhelming and while I don't want to lose it, I do want to just get my secret out in the open. I might as well get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid. So I blurt it all out at once. "I'm a fighter. I fight for money. I came to UCLA to box, but I lost my scholarship when I couldn't reign in my temper. So now I fight to pay for my tuition and all my other expenses. I had a fight tonight and I let this girl slip a punch past me, hence the eye. Happy now? Can we please go inside?"
Dean's expression is unreadable. He seems to be considering something before realization hits. "Wait, you're one of the girls in the fighting ring?"
"How do you even know about it?" I ask.
"I live in a frat house. What one brother knows, we all know. I'm not much for gambling so I never go to those things," he explains.
"Oh. Right. Well, yes. I'm one of those girls. Now whether you're coming with me or not, I'm going upstairs, taking a hot shower, and icing my eye. I'm in a shit mood and I don't want to get into it with you right now." With that I turn on my heel and stomp up the path to the doors, making my escape before he is able to react. As I'm waiting for the elevator I see the door open in my peripheral vision and Dean comes to stand beside me. His good hand is shoved into the pocket of his jeans and he doesn't say a word.
We ride to my floor in silence and I fling the apartment door open, yanking my hoodie off and plodding into my bedroom. I don't turn to see if Dean has followed me, I just yank a long t-shirt and a pair of underwear from my dresser before closing myself in the bathroom.
I turn the water to scolding and strip my clothes off. Before stepping into the shower I stand in front of the mirror and take a breath. I'm not mad at Dean. I'm mad at myself. For letting a hit like that get past me, for not telling him about the fights sooner, and for the way I handled everything downstairs. Falling apart like that, being so vulnerable with another person, takes a lot out of me.
I check out my now purple eye. It's not so bad that it will swell shut completely, but it is far from pretty. Luckily I'm a fast healer. With a sigh I step into the shower and under the steamy spray. I turn away so that the water pounds against my back and neck where all of my tension has built up. Slowly my anger drains away along with the strain in my muscles. I stand there until the water turns tepid.
When I finally step out and begin towel drying my hair, I hear the muffled sounds of a conversation between Jamie and Dean. I guess they don't realize the shower has turned off, because they're talking about me.
"You don't understand the situation. There wouldn't have been any stopping her, even if I didn't trust her to take care of herself. Which I do. She'll explain her reasons to you one day, but until then you need to trust that I wouldn't let my sister put herself in a situation I didn't think she could handle, and trust that she knows what she's doing."
I hear Dean heave a heavy sigh before reluctantly agreeing and making his way to my bedroom. Jamie's door shuts less than a minute later. I work my hair into a braid and throw on my clothes. Mentally I'm preparing myself for the inevitable conversation with Dean.
I open and close the door quietly, tossing my wet towel on top of the hamper. Dean is stretched across my bed with his hands resting on his stomach, a frozen bag of peas resting on one, eyes searching the ceiling for something very important. I perch myself on the foot of the bed, curling one leg under the other and facing Dean. He doesn't look at me, but hands me the cold bag of peas he was using on his knuckles.
I take them and apply pressure to my eye, hissing when the frigid plastic touches my skin. His eyes dart to me quickly assessing whether or not I'm in pain. When he decides I must be fine, he looks away again.
"So I guess I'm going to have to break the ice here right?"
Nothing.
"I'm sorry I just laid that all on you downstairs. You didn't exactly give me much choice, but I shouldn't have gotten so pissy with you. You didn't know and I'm sure it was a shock seeing me with a black eye. I'm trying to put myself in your shoes and I'd probably be pissed too."
Still nothing.
"I don't know what you want me to say. I do what I need to do to get by without stressing my family out. It's not cheap raising three kids, and that scholarship was the only way that Jamie and I could both come to UCLA. I'm not going to apologize for doing what I need to do, and you freezing me out right now isn't going to change that."
He finally looks at me, but still remains silent. Instead of talking, he sits up, pulls me to him and lays back down so that I'm stretched out next to him with my head on his chest. This is nice…
I tentatively reach my hand out and place it against his chest where I can feel his heart beating steadily. I don't know if I'm forgiven but if he wants to finish talking this out, he better start soon because I could fall asleep just like this.
"I'm just a little worried about you, that's all. Jamie told me you rarely get hurt, and you always win so I guess I can get past worrying about you physically. But you've taken on this huge task of paying your tuition, paying for your room and board, and keeping up this rouse with your parents. I mean, they have no idea any of this is going on right?"
I nod and he goes on.
"I figured. So that means that on top of the stress of being a junior in college, you've taken on this additional burden. It can't be easy. So am I judging you for what you're doing? No, and I never would. What you're doing doesn't define who you are. The fact that you'd go to these lengths, do anything you had to do to get where you want to go, those intentions are what help to define you. That's admirable. Do I think it's good for you to be keeping up this charade with your family? Not at all. That's not a judgment. Just concern." He wraps his arm around my shoulder and strokes up and down my arm, then kisses the top of my head.
I exhale and try to organize my thoughts. "Look, yes, it is hard to keep all of this up with my family. I have to remember to talk about certain things, not to talk about others, it's exhausting and it would be so much easier to tell them. But you don't know my dad. He wouldn't just accept the fact that I've fallen into his old life. He'd do everything he could to make sure I didn't have to do what I'm doing, and it would put such a strain on him and my mom. It's only for one more year. Really, it's probably going to be less than that if I keep making money like I did tonight."
"So my girl is a real ass kicker, huh?" He looks down at me with a smirk on his face. The little glint of pride I see there helps soothe the ache in my chest. "I have to admit, that's kind of hot." He whispers the last sentence in my ear and his breath warm on my skin sends shivers through my body.
"Oh so I'm your girl now? Does that mean we've survived our first fight?" I glance up at him from under my lashes.
"It wasn't really a fight. I just didn't know what was going on. Now I do. But to answer your first question, that's really up to you."
"Up to me? So I just say so and, what? We're officially a couple? Well that doesn't sound very romantic," I joke with him and snuggle closer.
"You're right." He extracts himself from my embrace and stands up, then he takes both my hands and pulls me up until I'm seated on the side of the bed. He kneels down beside the bed and takes my hands in both of his.
"Jessica Maddox, ever since I first laid eyes on you in that indescribably sexy angel costume, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. When I finally got to talk to you and learn more about this fascinating, intelligent, stubborn, shy, beautiful, smart-mouthed little wise ass of a woman, I realized I didn't want to get you out of my mind. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than finding new ways to make you smile. If you let me, I'd love to officially be your boyfriend. But I have to say, I pretty have been since that day on the pier." His smile stretches nearly ear to ear.
I have to swallow the lump forming in my throat before I'm able to speak. "Well, I would absolutely love to be your girlfriend. On one condition: no more punching inanimate objects." I lift his swollen hand to my lips and kiss it lightly. Still smiling he squeezes himself into the space between my legs, wraps his arms around my waist and gently brings his lips to mine.
"Deal. I do have one question for you though." He pulls back, resting his hands on my hips.
"Whats that?" I ask.
"What's with the Victoria's Secret bags?" he nods toward the pile of my empty shopping bags from earlier today.
Aside from the purple around my eye, I'm fairly certain my entire face is a blazing shade of scarlet. I grab the bag of peas from the bed and toss them at him, then I sigh and lay back on the bed. Sleep. Sleep is what I need right now.