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Digging the heels of my boots in, I force us to a stop, spinning to face her.
“Spill it, now.”
She grabs for the bottle hanging from my hand, downing a large amount before wrinkling her nose and speaking—her words falling out in a jumbled mess.
“Please tell me you’re lying,” I say, raising my brow. If she said what I think she did, I might have to kill her. And at this moment, I’d be happy to do it.
“Gage invited us to fight night,” she repeats, more clearly this time, looking down while she kicks her feet. At least tonight she’s wearing trainers, so I don’t need to worry about her tripping over in heels. “And since we have a free morning tomorrow, I figured we’d come. I love fight night.”
More like, she loves watching her stepbrother beat people up while half naked.
“We’re here now, so can we just have fun, please?”
She looks up at me then, her eyes widening while she sticks out her bottom lip. Trust her to pull out the big guns with a puppy-dog face. Rolling my eyes, I sigh, turning to Noah. He gives me a small nod in agreement. “Fine. But next time, tell us where we’re going.”
“Yes,” she squeals, throwing her arms around me. “I will, promise.”
“Let’s go,” Noah says, coming up behind us.
The interior of the warehouse is no better than the outside, and if possible, it’s even colder in here. I wrap my arms around my chest, hiding the way my nipples pebble in the bitter chill. A crowd of people are already forming, spread across the multiple round tables that surround a raised platform in the centre of the room.
I recognise no one, probably since I haven’t made much of an effort in the last few days to actually get to know people at the academy, but I’m assuming they’re all students like us. A couple of girls pass, and when I take in their outfits, I feel super underdressed.
Most girls in the room are dressed in tiny little dresses and sky-high heels. Thankfully, the guys are more casual, like us, so we don’t totally stand out, but still.
I can’t help but want to roll my eyes at the reason girls dress like that in a place like this.
It’s not exactly a night on the town.
“Come on, I see an empty table,” Betty says, already walking away.
“I hope you have something stronger than this,” I say, placing the wine on the table when I catch up to her, before pulling out one of the plastic chairs and taking a seat.
She scoffs, slipping a hand down the back of her jeans and whipping out a flask. “Do you know me at all?”
A couple of fighters step into the ring then, taking their positions. While I’m not super into violence, I won’t deny that there’s something hot about watching guys go at it. We’ve been to a few fights back home, all of them downright dirty. Nothing ever sanctioned by a professional body.
The air here is different.
There’s something darker in this room, more suffocating, as the two men face each other. They bare their teeth, reminding me of caged animals battling to be free. When the bell rings, there’s less than a second’s pause before fists get thrown and kicks are landed.
I can barely keep my eyes on the ring while they tear each other apart. So, instead, I finish the wine and make good work on emptying the flask Betty brought.
At least if I’m drunk the night might go quicker.
My head falls forward, my eyes fluttering closed and succumbing to sleep despite the sheer volume echoing from the patrons around me. Noah shoves me in the shoulder, jerking me upright.
“What?” I mumble, squinting at him.
“You were falling asleep.”
“Wasss nutt.” The room is still bustling, the volume louder and more excitable with every fight. “I um awake.”
“Sure, just like you’re totally sober.”
“I am.”
Not . . . not even remotely.
