expression before it shuts down—almost before I’ve registered its presence. He runs his gaze over my frame, taking in what I have to offer and dismissing it with a flick of his eyes in the next second. My stomach drops, disappointment taking hold of me, and I feel tears prick behind my eyelids.
What the fuck?
I’ve never had a reaction like that to a man. And, I’ve certainly never had a man dismiss me so crudely before. I hold back the tears that are threatening for no real reason and concentrate on finding some anger to direct toward him. It takes a moment, but I manage it.
Arrogant asshole. That’s better, I muse as the need to cry dissipates.
“Nate.” He calls out, threading his fingers through the mesh of the cage.
“You ready to kick some ass, old man?” Nate shouts over the noise.
“That’s enough of the old, you little shit,” Hooligan wisecracks in response to his nephew’s teasing. “I’ll still have enough energy to teach you a lesson in respect after I’ve dealt with this knucklehead.”
He points his head in the direction of his opponent, who’s mugging for his supporters. Without thinking, I laugh at his cocky threat when Nate does which makes his gaze flits toward me once again. Disapproval shines brightly from him and he rejects me for the second time. The tears that I blinked away moments earlier make themselves known again and I turn away before they spill, seeking solace in Jep.
He wraps his arms around me when I press my body against him and pulls me tight against him. “Want another beer before the fight starts, Gabbi?”
Now’s probably a good time to tell him that Nate was telling the truth.
“I’m really only seventeen.”
His arms disappear from around me at lightning speed, his hands curling around my biceps and he holds me in front of him. His eyes run over my face as if he’s trying to work out if I’m joking or not. I press my lips together, lifting my eyebrows in a silent request for forgiveness, before I shrug. “I could murder a lemonade, Jep.”
Shaking his head, he appears slightly bemused when he answers me. “Shoulda known you were too good to be true. What’s with the tatts and the trampy clothes then if you’re underage?”
Jep waves his hand down the front of me as he speaks. I’d like to rip into him for daring to ask his rude questions, but I don’t have a leg to stand on really. I like to pretend that my clothes and my tattoos are my armor against the world, but his assumptions about the type of girl I am aren’t too far from the truth.
I am exactly as I appear...a slut.
“Perks of knowing a kick-ass tattooist,” I answer, my attempt a nonchalance falling short when my voice doesn’t cooperate. Instead of the breezy tone I was working toward, I sound defensive. “And, let’s not pretend that you don’t like my clothes.”
Suddenly, feeling tired—of defending myself, of my life, of the world in general—I close the short distance between my current position and my seat. Falling into it wearily, I hug myself with both arms. Crossing my legs and drawing my feet under my seat, I make myself as small as possible. Once this fight is over, I’m going home and crawling into Cooper’s bed. I need to bask in my little brother’s pureness after the past twenty-four hours that I’ve had. First Hooligan blatantly dismisses me as trash with one look; now Jep’s decided that I’m a little girl playing at being a whore.
I feel dirty; exposed and raw.
“Brace yourself,” Nate declares as he falls into his seat beside me. “He’s pumped. This is gonna be brutal.”
Swallowing down the self-pity I’m currently wallowing in, I plaster my best fake smile on my face and nod as if I agree with his judgement. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about him and his rude uncle.
The MC makes his announcement and then leaves the cage. The tension in the room ramps up as the referee explains the rules.
“Here ya go.” Jep passes me a plastic
What the fuck?
I’ve never had a reaction like that to a man. And, I’ve certainly never had a man dismiss me so crudely before. I hold back the tears that are threatening for no real reason and concentrate on finding some anger to direct toward him. It takes a moment, but I manage it.
Arrogant asshole. That’s better, I muse as the need to cry dissipates.
“Nate.” He calls out, threading his fingers through the mesh of the cage.
“You ready to kick some ass, old man?” Nate shouts over the noise.
“That’s enough of the old, you little shit,” Hooligan wisecracks in response to his nephew’s teasing. “I’ll still have enough energy to teach you a lesson in respect after I’ve dealt with this knucklehead.”
He points his head in the direction of his opponent, who’s mugging for his supporters. Without thinking, I laugh at his cocky threat when Nate does which makes his gaze flits toward me once again. Disapproval shines brightly from him and he rejects me for the second time. The tears that I blinked away moments earlier make themselves known again and I turn away before they spill, seeking solace in Jep.
He wraps his arms around me when I press my body against him and pulls me tight against him. “Want another beer before the fight starts, Gabbi?”
Now’s probably a good time to tell him that Nate was telling the truth.
“I’m really only seventeen.”
His arms disappear from around me at lightning speed, his hands curling around my biceps and he holds me in front of him. His eyes run over my face as if he’s trying to work out if I’m joking or not. I press my lips together, lifting my eyebrows in a silent request for forgiveness, before I shrug. “I could murder a lemonade, Jep.”
Shaking his head, he appears slightly bemused when he answers me. “Shoulda known you were too good to be true. What’s with the tatts and the trampy clothes then if you’re underage?”
Jep waves his hand down the front of me as he speaks. I’d like to rip into him for daring to ask his rude questions, but I don’t have a leg to stand on really. I like to pretend that my clothes and my tattoos are my armor against the world, but his assumptions about the type of girl I am aren’t too far from the truth.
I am exactly as I appear...a slut.
“Perks of knowing a kick-ass tattooist,” I answer, my attempt a nonchalance falling short when my voice doesn’t cooperate. Instead of the breezy tone I was working toward, I sound defensive. “And, let’s not pretend that you don’t like my clothes.”
Suddenly, feeling tired—of defending myself, of my life, of the world in general—I close the short distance between my current position and my seat. Falling into it wearily, I hug myself with both arms. Crossing my legs and drawing my feet under my seat, I make myself as small as possible. Once this fight is over, I’m going home and crawling into Cooper’s bed. I need to bask in my little brother’s pureness after the past twenty-four hours that I’ve had. First Hooligan blatantly dismisses me as trash with one look; now Jep’s decided that I’m a little girl playing at being a whore.
I feel dirty; exposed and raw.
“Brace yourself,” Nate declares as he falls into his seat beside me. “He’s pumped. This is gonna be brutal.”
Swallowing down the self-pity I’m currently wallowing in, I plaster my best fake smile on my face and nod as if I agree with his judgement. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about him and his rude uncle.
The MC makes his announcement and then leaves the cage. The tension in the room ramps up as the referee explains the rules.
“Here ya go.” Jep passes me a plastic
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