Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
She nods, wiping at her face. “How was your weekend?”
I almost tell her about Maverick, but then decide to wait. “It was great.” I hand her the container of cookies and pop the top, letting the scent of sugar and chocolate waft around us.
She lets out a long sigh. “God, those smell amazing.”
“Five hundred calories each, but who the hell cares?”
She takes one and smiles.
Later, I arrive at class and take my seat in the back of the auditorium. When our professor arrives and Maverick still hasn’t shown up, I’m nervous. The teacher is adamant about attendance, and there’s no excuse for missing a test unless you’re practically hospitalized. Then again, he is an athlete, and I know from experience they get away with missing class all the time. Still, that isn’t really Maverick’s style. The man has a brain to go along with all that brawn.
So, where is he?
I feel odd as I look through the history of the text conversations with He-Man. I have a different perspective now that I know it was Maverick. It was Maverick who rescued me from my blind date, showed up at the grocery store, and dared me to say I was a badass in the library. I change his name in my phone to Mav-Man and send him a text.
Where are you? We have a test today.
Not coming today. I’ll explain later.
The professor approaches me to give me a stack of papers that are part of the test, and I slide my phone into my bag after switching it to silent.
Whatever he’s doing, I hope all is well.
Maverick
“There must be at least three hundred people packed in this ballroom,” Ryker mutters as he stands next to me on Monday afternoon, surveying the milling crowd. “And they’re all rich assholes.”
I tighten the fingerless leather gloves on my hands and focus on taking deep breaths. Instead of being at Waylon today, we both skipped class to drive to Tunica, Mississippi, for the fight. We’re standing in the corner of a ring underneath a glittering chandelier inside a riverboat casino owned by Leslie.
Standing in my corner as we wait, Ryker grimaces. “This place reeks of cigarette smoke. God, I hate casinos.”
I force a laugh, shaking off my nerves as I do a few air punches and bounce around on my feet. “Isn’t this the first time you’ve been to one?”
He shrugs. “Still don’t like them. This place is trouble.”
Hell yeah it is, yet here we are.
I look around the room, taking in the high-dollar crowd sporting tailored suits and tailored gowns. Just to get in the door, the crowd had to get Leslie’s personal approval as well as put up several grand. The kicker is I have to win to get the fifty grand I negotiated.
My stomach feels like it’s filled with lead, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep my eyes averted from the stares of the women and men who have their eyes on me as they sip from champagne flutes.
“Don’t look at them,” Ryker says firmly. His mouth is a thin straight line, and his face is harder than I’ve ever seen it. He hates that I’ve made this decision and he doesn’t approve, but he’s the kind of friend who’s not going to leave my side.
“I just want it over with.”
He swivels his head as the competition stalks into the ballroom from a side door. It’s a showoff of an entrance by a monster of a man. He’s around my age, flanked by two girls in low-cut dresses. He stops in the middle of the aisle, letting the spotlight dance over his broad chest as he puffs up and does a strut up to the ring.
He’s massive, at least a couple of inches taller than me, which puts him around six-six. Swirls of brightly colored tattoos cover nearly every inch of his thickly muscled skin. Appearing to be of Polynesian descent with a wide chiseled face and a braid of long hair, he smirks at the crowd, shaking hands with some of the attendees.
I hear a sharp inhalation from Ryker. “Is that Kai Willis, the linebacker from Ole Miss? Goddamn, he’s huge.”
I exhale, the lead in my stomach getting heavier. “Shit.” Ole Miss is our biggest rival in the SEC and “Killer” Kai is their star linebacker, so it makes sense that Leslie would want us to fight.
Ryker shakes his head and whistles as his gaze sweeps over the crowd. “What a bunch of sick bastards.”
I nod. “People get off on this. They like seeing blood.”
That hard look settles back on his face as he focuses on me. “Yeah, but you’re jeopardizing everything.”
Maybe.
He grimaces. “And why are there no cell phones? Why did we have to get patted down before we entered the room?”
“Leslie’s protecting his fighters. He assured me this won’t get out to the press.”