Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Why do you think it’s you? Maybe I came to see Piston.”
Piston chuckles. “Is it a competition? Winner gets the girl?”
I cock my head and put my hands on my hips. “I’m not a prize, fellas.”
"A kiss, then. Winner gets a kiss," Beast says loud enough for the crowd to hear. There’s laughter and some whistling in response.
Jerry nudges my side. “As your friend, I should tell you that this seems like a bad idea, but as your longstanding partner in crime, if you don’t say yes, I’m going to disown you.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. I’ve already kissed Piston and the world didn’t end. Maybe part of figuring out who I want to be is figuring out how to balance this whole responsible adult thing with actually having fun.
"That’s my girl," Jerry whispers.
"Okay, fine. A kiss to the winner."
The crowd cheers, and more money exchanges hands.
Beast beats his broad chest with one glove, then points it at me. "See you after the match, baby."
Piston laughs. "You'll see her, all right. At a fucking distance, and in my arms." He pops the guard back in.
This time when they square up, there's a whole new layer of tension between them. I feel like a princess, watching to see which knight is going to win the joust in her name. They’re just playing around, but the thought of two guys duking it out over something as simple as a kiss from me is a little thrilling.
If I thought they were going rough on each other earlier, it's nothing compared to now. Piston's fists live up to his name, pummeling Beast over and over so quickly it’s painful to watch. But the hits glance off Beast's guard like water drops off a windshield, and Beast’s return punches are brutal. Everything I know about boxing is purely accidental, but it’s obvious that they know what they’re doing. It's almost like a dance, the way they move together like they’ve rehearsed it.
Jerry and I are right up on the ropes, cheering them both on. With everything right up in my face, it’s so wild and visceral that it’s easy to get swept up in the excitement along with the rest of the crowd. My fingernails dig into the rope in front of me as I cling to it like a lifeline.
It can’t last forever, though. No matter how strong they are, eventually their moves slow and more hits start to connect. Piston lands one that sends Beast reeling but he gathers himself quickly. I know they’re friends and this is something they’re doing for fun, but what if someone actually gets hurt?
Fists fly, the cheers are raising the roof and Jerry's hand is an iron vise around my arm. My heart can't take this.
Beast rallies, shaking off the hit. Piston is fast and powerful, but it’s not enough. Beast throws everything into one last brutal attack that knocks Piston into the ropes, scattering a couple of the spectators. He raises his hand, panting. "I give! You win." There’s blood and sweat dripping down his face. "Jesus Christ, man. Go get it. You've fucking earned it, but your days are numbered." And then he plops down onto the mat, right onto his ass. "Someone get me some fucking water."
Around me, money is being paid out to the lucky winners, people are cheering, and someone pushes a water bottle into Piston’s hand. Me, I'm just glad that they both seem okay even though they’ve just beaten the crap out of each other.
Beast drops his gloves and gets down on one knee next to Piston, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You good?"
"Fucking peachy." Piston takes a deep sip and swishes water around in his mouth, before swallowing and wiping his face with his towel. Whatever was bleeding seems to have stopped. He nods his head in my direction. "I’m good. Go claim your prize."
Beast nods, gets up and comes my way. He grabs a towel of his own and wipes away the worst of the sweat. If anything, it makes him look more dangerous. The deep green of his eyes is almost lost in blackness, and strands of dark hair have fallen out of his ponytail and are clinging to his damp skin. I’m glad I have Jerry and the rope for support, because my legs suddenly feel a little wobbly.
"Shit, I wish my phone wasn’t in my bag," Jerry whispers.
I wet my all-too-dry lips and swallow hard.
When Beast climbs through the ropes and drops down to the floor in front of me, I have to crane my neck to look up at him. There’s a cut on his shoulder just shallow enough to be angry and red, but not bleed. A red mark under his eye will probably bruise by tomorrow. But his lips look like they're fine—better than fine, even—soft and inviting.