A smile tugs on my lips but disappears quickly as soon as I glance over to Alek, whose eyebrows are raised almost to his hairline.
Abi intertwines her fingers through Alek’s, and his disapproving eyes soften as soon as he locks gazes with her. Something special passes between them, and I have to admit to myself I may be a pinch jealous, but more glad that Alek has found someone to love. I remember his high school days. He was a playboy—the girls going wild for the handsome football player.
I’ve never had what Alek has with Abi. I liked Edward McKellar from my math class. Cute guy who asked me out, and I said no. I should have said yes, I think, mentally smacking myself on the head.
No way I can ever get a guy like the one on my dream board. A guy like that would never want to date me—a broken girl with baggage. What if Edward came to my apartment and learned about Mom and the drama? To avoid visits from Social Services, I had to keep my life a secret. And I didn’t have time to date in high school, let alone to be in a serious relationship.
“Why did you choose that major?” I hear myself asking, and I want to lift my fork and stab myself in the eyeball.
“To catch bad guys. After I retire from fighting. This is my last semester. And after, I’m moving with my father and our team to the Las Vegas facility to train for professional fights.”
“But when do fighters retire and what do they do after?”
I glance at Abi and Alek who are in their own world, holding hands and whispering something to each other. My desire to protect them as they are amplifies, my muscles tensing. I direct my attention back to Victor.
“Everyone’s different. Some retire at forty-five, others earlier if they have injuries. One of my favorite fighters, the Reaper, had to retire at thirty because he suffered a retina injury and became blind in one eye.”
I almost fall off my chair.
“I’m only twenty-two, so I have a long time to fight before I retire,” he says softly, but his face radiates intensity and dedication.
I swallow the remaining food in my mouth.
“Do all fighters have scary nicknames like the Reaper? Is yours the Bull?”
My eyes drop to his chest and I’m thankful that he’s put on his T-shirt. When I’m capable of bringing my gaze up to his face, Victor gives me anI caught you staring at mesmile. I squirm on my chair.
“Most of them, yes. It’s a marketing thing.”
I feel like an idiot for asking.
“Bulls charge at moving targets, and the name was given to me by the commentators of the fights. They described my fighting style as the way bulls behave in the arena. As soon as I step in the cage, I charge at the target moving in front of me. And he has no chance of escaping.”
That’s horrible. Why does he do this to himself? Now I sound critical even in my own head. I shake it off. I’m sure he has his reasons for doing what he does. I make a mental note to check out some of his fights on YouTube.
Alek and Abi have recovered from their display of heavenly affection for each other. I keep my head down, staring at my so-interesting and almost-empty plate.
“Some fighters make it really big and don’t work a day of their life after retirement.”
Victor’s voice makes me look back at him. I hope he makes it big, if that’s what he wants.
“Others go into coaching, opening their own gyms, like Nash. Or become drug dealers.” He shrugs.
Like Charlie. My thoughts take me back to my issues. Oh, so easy to forget while talking to Victor.
Victor laughs and Alek follows, but I only swallow hard. I take a sip from my cup. The guys exchange strange glances.
“You okay, Twinkle?” my brother asks.
I shrug my shoulders as if there isn’t a fifty-thousand-pound dinosaur stomping on my chest.
“How did your dad get into MMA?”
“He was a world champion in Jiu Jitsu back in his days. He couldn’t stop competing so he started training in mixed martial arts. And he became a heavyweight champion.”
“Wow. That’s amazing,” I find myself saying. “What an achievement. By the way, what’s heavyweight? Your category?”
“My dad is heavier now, but yes.”
