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“Fine,” Corey said snippily. “And one other thing—”
“Brian, Kenneth, this is Taylor,” Holt spoke loudly over him to the two wrestlers in the ring. The pig-faced coach snorted in irritation at his training being interrupted, chewing on the cigar in his mouth.
The cyclops and werewolf jogged over to the ropes. Kenneth, The Optometrist, gave me a sweet smile, his one big eyeball blinking owlishly down at me.
“Hi, Taylor.” He leaned down and held out his giant hand. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” I smiled back and shook his hand, then turned to B. Were—Brian—as his big paw-like hand came over the ropes.
“Hi,” he said shyly, carefully grasping my hand and keeping his claws away from my skin. He was a little bigger and broader than Seb, his lupine face wider, and his eyes were pale blue instead of Seb’s golden brown. His fur was also black with streaks of grey, whereas Seb’s was a rich brown.
“That’s Coach Boris.” Holt nodded at the pig man on the other side of the ring. “But everyone calls him Hogbody.”
“Or Lil Piglet.” Kit snickered from above. “Except that rap career never did take off, did it, G?”
Coach Boris’s beady eyes swivelled up toward the ceiling and narrowed. In a thick East Coast accent, he grunted, “Come down here and say that, maggot.”
“Um, larva,” Kit replied, tarsal claws curling as they swung their legs. “Culturally insensitive, dude. And nah, I’m cool up here.”
“Aaanyway. I’m going to show Taylor the arena.” Holt started leading me away from the ring. He added to me in a murmur, “Let’s go while Lark’s distracted.”
I glanced back to see Larkin sitting with all the wrestlers, his tongue poking out in concentration and a controller in his hands. Vince’s arm was slung over the back of the couch behind him, and he was leaning in close as he gave Larkin directions.
Yeah, I was pretty sure Larkin was happy to stay here. And I wanted to be alone with Holt.
There was a bank of windows with the blinds drawn against the wall behind us. When I peeked between the slats of one, I realised it looked down over the arena, which was dark and empty, the huge neon Goliaths of Wrestling sign behind the bar turned off.
Holt took me through a door at the gym end of the room that led to a metal staircase.
“Sorry about them.” He huffed as we descended hand-in-hand. “I didn’t realise they’d act like that. They’re not usually so… horny.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” I chuckled with a flush, then nibbled on my lower lip as I glanced at him worriedly. “That isn’t… um… why you like me, right? Just because I’m human?”
I flushed as Holt stopped dead and turned to face me with an expression of disbelief. “What?”
“Sorry,” I blurted. “Sorry. Forget I—”
“Taylor.” He stepped closer and palmed my nape, brows furrowing. “I don’t care what you are.”
“Okay,” I said quickly, feeling guilty for bringing it up. “Me too. I mean, I don’t care either. I just… I really like spending time with you.”
Holt’s eyes softened. He leaned in and nuzzled my cheek. “So do I. And I thought you were gorgeous before I even knew you were human.”
I snuffled a laugh, slipping my hands under his suit jacket so smooth over his back. “I thought you were gorgeous before I knew you weren’t.”
Holt leaned back to grin at me, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “That’s good.”
Feeling brave, I closed the scant distance between us and pressed my lips to his. Holt immediately kissed me back, hands cupping the sides of my neck and thumbs stroking my jaw. Faint sounds from the backstage area behind us eventually made him break the kiss and smile at me again.
He threaded his fingers through mine and tugged. “Come on.”
We carried on walking down, and I glanced around when we reached the bottom of the staircase. The corridor extended in both directions, the left leading to what I assumed were the entrances the wrestlers used for their matches, because Holt pulled me over to a door on our right.
He flicked several switches on a big panel beside the door, and when he pushed it open, I could see the glow of the Goliaths of Wrestling sign illuminating the space. We emerged into the arena beside the bar, to the side of the bleachers, and I realised he’d also turned the big lights on over the ring.
And there were two very strange-looking little creatures standing in it.
“Ugh, god,” Holt muttered. “It’s Frank and Beans.”
