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Zeke’s observant, and he arches a brow. “You got money troubles?”
“I’m good.” I brush him off. It’s not a lie. I’ve got savings. When you grow up with nothing, you get good at managing what you do have. But I did miss three weeks work while I was hiding out in Sydney. Things are a little tight.
He follows me into the locker rooms. “I can talk to Steve. See if we can get you on next Friday night’s roster. You’re scrappy, but I meant what I said: you got natural talent. One week is more than enough time to prepare you for a fight. I’m not worried.”
“I’m good,” I repeat, unable to look him in the eye as I unwrap my hands. I’m not admitting my money troubles to someone I barely know, and I’m not rushing into a fight just to make a quick buck. That’s a sure-fire way of ending up in hospital. I’m not stupid. I can wait.
“Alright.” He holds up his hands in surrender as he backs out of the room. “I’m not going to push. But I think you should consider next month. See you tomorrow.”
I give a non-committal grunt and toss my gear in my bag. The sun is starting to come up as I get on my bike and head for the surf club. It’s Thursday, the one day Jordan, Brady, and I all have late classes at BHU, so we meet up for a surf. I pull into a park next to Jordan’s Kombi. He and Brady are already in their wetsuits, our boards leaning against his van.
I pull my helmet off and nod a greeting to my mates. I climb off my bike and quickly strip down to my underwear, grabbing my suit from the back of Jordan’s Kombi.
“How was the gym?” he asks, his eyes narrowing at some of the bruises on my body as I zip myself up.
“Fine.”
“They look painful.”
“Nope. I’m good.” I feel like a broken fucking record.
He arches a brow.
“What?”
“We hardly see you anymore, dude, and when we do, we get one or two-word responses.”
“What do you want? My diary entry for the day? Dear diary, my dad cheated on my mum before he killed her.”
“Christ, Harley–”
But I’m not finished. “My girlfriend’s brother turned out to also bemybrother, and he’s now dating my best friend. My life’s a shit show. Happy?”
Jordan runs a hand through his curls. “Not really. Look, I know things seem pretty bad at the moment, but–”
“I appreciate your concern, man. But there’s nothing you can say to make it better.” I stalk over to my board and tuck it under my arm, heading toward the surf. They can follow me or not–I don’t care.
They catch up to me as I reach the water. “I’m just here for the waves,” I warn them.
“Let’s go carve ‘em up,” Brady says with a fist bump.
I CUT OUT of the water early, my head not in it. True to their word, Jordan and Brady hadn’t pushed me anymore–which I was grateful for–but I can’t stop thinking about Zeke’s offer for me to fight next weekend. Money has been tight since I got back from Sydney. I know Dad’s been sending some to Tom for the mortgage repayments, but I refuse to take anything from him. I wonder how much I’ll earn in the cage.
I’m still distracted by my thoughts as I reach the car park, so I don’t see Ivy until I’m practically on top of her.
“Hey, Harley,” she greets me, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ears.
“Ivy.” I move around her to load my board onto the roof of the Kombi before grabbing a towel. When I turn back to face Ivy, she’s worrying her bottom lip. I let out a sigh. “Just ask me.”
“Are you coming on Saturday?”
I drop my gaze, feeling like an asshole. I haven’t responded to any of her messages because, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think I can bring myself to go.
“Harley?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re one of my best friends. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
