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My knuckles are bleeding, the skin on my knees ripped. Sweat drips down my torso and I let out a roar that sounds crazed even to my own ears.
A hand comes down on my left shoulder. Without pausing, I turn and punch at the intruder.
I hit nothing but air.
Phoenix easily deflects the blow without even moving his feet like I didn’t just throw my strongest punch at him.
My eyes narrow on him. Based on his reflexes and the way he remains completely unruffled, he knows how to fight. He looks at me steadily, not saying a word, waiting for me to take my airpods out.
“What are you doing here, Novak?” he asks, sounding almost bored by his own question, like the answer is of no interest to him whatsoever.
I don’t know why my father thought sending me here was a good idea. These teenagers are as unhinged as I am.
I don’t correct him on the way he addresses me.
I don’t give a fuck about whatever bullshit hierarchical protocol we’re both supposed to be following.
“I was looking for a quiet place.”
“You’ve found mine.”
There’s no emotion in his tone. It’s neither an invitation, nor a request to leave.
“You fight here?” I ask.
There’s no awkwardness as we stand there, staring each other down. I’m shirtless and sweating, revealing the intricate tattoos on my chest that he would never otherwise see.
I see him catalog that information into his brain, a new piece of the puzzle as he tries to assess who I am. He doesn’t seem bothered by my presence, far from it.
I’d think he would be.
If I told Thornton I saw Phoenix here, he could get expelled.
Maybe unlike me, he’s free from the consequences of his actions.
He answers me honestly instead.
He nods, adding, “Have you noticed that your quiet place has become significantly less so?”
It’s only when he points it out that I finally register the thumping of the music and the loud noises coming from deeper into the building, I’d guess where I saw the boxing ring.
“There’s a fight tonight?” I don’t mean to ask it as a question but it comes out as one.
Standing in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest as he analyzes me, he looks much older than his eighteen years.
“Phoenix, get warmed up. You’re up in twenty,” a man says, walking into the room behind him, clipboard in hand. He pauses when he sees me. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone who shouldn’t be here,” Phoenix calls over his shoulder, answering for me before I can. He tilts his head back towards me, his gaze examining. “Unless you want half the student body to see you at an illegal fight.” He pauses, giving me an insolent smirk. “What would Thornton think of that, I wonder?”
Fuck. These entitled, rich pricks are exactly the type of people who would narc to the principal if they caught me here.
“Is there another exit?”
“Nope.”
My shirt is unwearable so I toss it in my bag along with my wraps. I don’t have anything else in there except my laptop, a couple minis, a cap, and a tweed blazer that Tess bought me as a joke when she learned about our father’s plan. She thought it might make me look more pedagogic. Safe to say I’ve never worn it and I’m not about to start now.
But now I’m faced with walking out into the crowd shirtless. That’s going to bring attention to me any way you cut it. I doubt anyone else except the guys in the ring will be bare chested and I’m desperate to avoid attention so I don’t blow my entire life up.
