Page 55 of Under Her

Niran gets out of the car, helps his wife out, and then walks over to the guy on the stool.

They shake hands and exchange words, and then Niran gives him some money.

He gestures for us to follow him inside.

This place looks shady as fuck. I put a protective hand on Morgan’s lower back as we start to walk inside. She shivers under my touch. I hold back my smile.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this place,” I whisper to Morgan as Niran and Noon walk on ahead.

“It’s fine.”

“You say that now. You won’t be saying that when we get murdered.”

Amused, innocent eyes flicker up to mine. “Stop being a pussy, Wilder. We’re not going to get murdered in here.”

“Hey! I’m not a pussy. I’m all man, I’ll have you know. Total badass.” I have the urge to flex my muscles to show her just how tough I am.

“Sure you are, Cross.” She pats my chest with her hand.

Niran is holding open the door to the arena as we approach.

Morgan leans close to my ear and whispers, “Do you want me to go in first, check out the place, and make sure no murderers are in there, waiting to kill you?”

I lean back and look into her laughing eyes. “You’re hilarious,” I mutter. I move past her, going through the door first.

The sound of her tinkling laughter behind me lights me up inside.

I step inside the arena, which is just basically a large room with a boxing ring in the middle, surrounded by rows of tables with seating, and a bar around the edges.

“I got a table close to the front for us,” Niran tells me.

Morgan and I follow Niran and Noon over to our table. Noon sits first, Morgan takes the seat next to her, then I sit next to Morgan, and Niran takes the seat next to me.

Niran pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “You smoke?” He offers me one.

“No.”

“You mind if I do?”

“Not at all.”

I hate smoking. Fucking detest it. But plenty of people are already smoking in here, so I’d have just looked like an ass if I’d said I had a problem with him smoking.

“Morgan?” He offers a cigarette to her, and she declines.

Niran passes the cigarette pack down to his wife, and each of them lights one up.

A waitress appears to take our drink orders.

I order a Heineken, and Morgan orders her usual of vodka, soda, and lime. Niran orders a beer, like me, and Noon orders a glass of wine.

Noon and Morgan are chatting away, so I make conversation with Niran while we wait for our drinks to arrive.

“So, tell me about the rules of Thai boxing,” I say to Niran.

“Okay, so Muay Thai, as we call it here, is known as the art of eight limbs because hands, elbows, knees, and legs can be used to attack your opponent. So, there is the Chok technique, which is punching. Sok, which uses the elbows.”

“You can use your elbows in Thai boxing?”