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Oscar looks the same… but different. He looks stronger, like he lifts weights more than once a day. The twins no longer look like twins unless you really look at them.
Oscar’s hair is still cut short, but his red curls are more luscious and shiny. He follows closely behind Drake with a careful eye.
I hear Kylie sigh as she watches him walk down the aisle. “Look at him…” I look over at Kylie and her eyes are dreamy, focused on Oscar.
They get closer to us.
And closer.
And then Drake walks by, and I go absolutely still.
My blood freezes in my veins. My breath sticks in my lungs. He’s not far away at all. If I walked six steps from my seat, I could touch him.
But I won’t let him know I’m here.
Well, that is the plan anyway, until Kylie screams for Oscar’s attention.
Oscar looks back when he hears his name and her voice, and when he sees her in her revealing black dress, her hair pinned up, her makeup flawless, he runs his eyes all over her frame, and then a smile appears on his lips.
He winks at her, but then his eyes slide to the left, and he spots me.
His face straightens immediately. His brown irises stretch. He doesn’t blink for a while. I’m guessing he’s surprised to see me. Kylie must have told him I said no earlier.
Due to Kylie’s screaming, Oscar isn’t the only one to look back. You’d think Drake would be accustomed to ignoring the screams and calling of his name and the people around him.
But he knows her voice.
And he knows who her closest friend is.
Drake throws his hood back and gazes over his shoulder.
First he searches the crowd, searching for the voice, and then he’s looking at the front row on his side of the cage. He sees her… and then he sees me.
My heart plummets.
My throat thickens with unwanted emotion.
I feel hot and flushed… everywhere.
My chest constricts with emotions I haven’t felt in years. My eyes lock with his, and his narrow. He stops walking for just a brief moment, his hand clutched around the guardrail beside the entrance of the cage.
His mouth twitches. His eyes are harder. Angrier. He snatches his hands away from the rail, as well as his gaze from mine, and storms up the rest of the steps, entering the cage.
He walks around the inside of it, his hands in the air, a smirk on his lips. He’s gloating. He’s happy about tonight’s event. Either that, or he’s showboating because he knows I’m here.
I can’t deny that he’s glorious as he makes his rounds, glaring down his opponent at every opportunity.
The Slayer glares back, growling in his corner.
Drake’s nostrils flare as he makes way for his recovery corner, which happens to be only a few feet away from where we sit.
Oh, come on! Are all the forces of the world against me tonight?
Oscar helps Drake with the half-gloves around his hands. Drake bounces on his toes, shaking out his arms, rolling his neck, and clenching his jaw. His eyes are hard on his opponent.
But then he turns his head, looking at me. He points right at me, and both Kylie and I gasp.
“You,” he mouths. “See me.”
Me? What about me? What is that even supposed to mean? See him? I see him as clear as fucking day right now.
He turns away, walking to the middle of the mat. The referee declares a clean, even fight. Once the only three people left in the cage are the fighters and the referee, that’s when it begins.
It becomes a showdown, almost nose-to-nose, snarling as they shout silent threats to one another.
A bell rings.
The referee backs away.
It’s time.
The Slayer immediately swings for Drake. Drake ducks. I flinch. He came so close.
Drake puts on a smug grin, waving a finger in a no-no fashion. He’s taunting him.
The Slayer growls and then charges forward, grunting as he swings. Drake catches a hit to the shoulder instead of the face when he moves aside. He’s quick—as fast as lightning.
Drake saunters around The Slayer, and I can hear him shouting at him, laughing and toying with him. He runs around him, building up tension as the Slayer waits for a good time to strike.
But, for the Slayer, it is never a good time.
Drake stops, but only to connect a fist to The Slayer’s nose. The Slayer stumbles back, but recovers quickly.
The Slayer starts to throw hooks as well. Some catch on Drake’s body. They sound heavy and painful. He doesn’t seem bothered by them at all.
That is—until a blow catches him in the jaw.
Some of the audience gasps while a few others shout with joy. Shane returns just as Drake pulls himself together again.
“How much have I missed?” he asks, handing me the worthless martini.
“It just started.” I accept the drink anyway.
