Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
GRACE
“What are you doing tonight?”
I cringe as I gather up my things and slip them all into my backpack. Whenever Lila begins a conversation with that exact sentence, it’s because she’s made plans for herself and wants me to come along. It never fails. But just about every single time, she ends up going home with somebody she meets at whatever place she drags me to.
“I have a paper to write tonight,” I tell her.
“Come on, you can put it off for a night.”
“I can’t—”
“I know you, Grace. I know you get all your work done early,” she replies. “I know you can spare one night to go hang out with your best friend.”
I laugh. “You don’t need a wingman. I’m pretty sure you’re going to do perfectly fine on your own, babe. You always do.”
“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?”
“I’m going back to our dorm room to write a paper. And if I decide to get wild later, I might go down to the student union and get some coffee.”
“No, you’re not. Tonight, we’re going to an underground MMA fight out at the Warehouse. I know how much you love fights.”
I groan. I am a big fan of MMA fighting, and she knows it. My dad got me into it when I was a kid, and I’ve been hooked on the sport ever since. It’s the one thing he and I bonded over together. I love the intensity and, yeah, even the brutality. It’s a fun sport to watch. That’s why she’s dangling that in front of my nose like catnip.
“So, who’s the guy who convinced you to go see a fight?” I ask. “And don’t lie. I know fights aren’t usually your thing.”
A sly grin touches her lips. “His name is Chris.”
“And does Chris know you’re coming? Or are you stalking him?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Stalking, then,” I reply with a laugh. “How do you know he’s going to even be there?”
“Because I heard him talking to his friends about it. That’s how I knew there was even a fight tonight, to begin with. Duh. It’s not like I keep up with that kind of thing.”
We share a laugh, and I shake my head. “You are a terrible influence. You know that, right?”
“So, does that mean you’ll go with me?”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“But you’re going to, right?”
I sigh dramatically. I really should go back to my dorm room and work on my paper. I don’t like leaving things until the last minute. I never put out my best work when I’m under the gun, which is why I like being ahead of the game. But it’s been a little while since the last time I went out, and I kind of feel like I can use a little fun. Plus, getting to see a fight gives me something to talk to my dad about the next time I see him. Our love of professional fighting is about the only thing we really have in common.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Professor Bryson watching me. He’s standing behind his lectern at the front of the room, pretending to read the papers in front of him, but I can sense his eyes on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to be alone. Professor Bryson has been leering at me all semester long. He makes me so uncomfortable that if I didn’t need the class, I would have transferred out long ago. Unfortunately for me, I need this class to satisfy my requirements.
“Walk out with me,” I tell Lila.
“What?”
“Walk out with me,” I repeat. “Come on.”
Snatching up my bag, I slip my arm through Lila’s and practically drag her out of the lecture hall. Only when we’re in the corridor outside, surrounded by a horde of other students, and out from under the leering gaze of Professor Bryson, does it seem like I can breathe again.
“What was that all about?” Lila asks.
“Professor Bryson creeps me out.”
“Maybe he has a crush on you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Lila gives me a sly grin. “Well, I can guarantee he won’t be at the Warehouse tonight, so you’ll be safe. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
I laugh as we walk down the crowded hallway. As we go, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Professor Bryson standing outside the lecture hall door, watching me. It sends a cold chill down my spine.
I get out of the car and glance around. The parking lot is filled with people drinking and partying—pre-gaming before the night’s festivities. The Warehouse is exactly that—an old warehouse. It’s been repurposed and refurbished and now hosts parties, dances, frat and sorority events, and tonight, an underground MMA fight. The place itself is dingy and a little grimy, but that seems to be by design. People want that dirty underground experience, I guess.