Read Online Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance by Roxy Sinclaire, Natasha Tanner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roxy Sinclaire, Natasha Tanner
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Brooklyn and her mother.
I couldn’t help but think about Brooklyn in my day to day life anyways.
I wanted to know if she was okay. Did she go back to her home after she visited her aunt? Was there fall-out from that? If she got hurt again I would have been fucking furious. I couldn’t imagine her dad getting up off that ground and not trying to tear apart the nearest people to him as easily as possible. I didn’t understand why she was still in that tiny town to begin with; she was worth so much more than that.
My feet slapped along on that concrete hour after hour, day after day. I kept on lifting weights, I kept sparring anyone who was willing, but I mostly ran. Running improves balance. It helps with your breathing, helps keep your mind clear, and lets you work on avoiding obstacles.
I loved it, the perfect workout.
On one of my runs when I was trying to fit in a couple extra miles more than my usual daily amount, I had to stop dead in my tracks because I felt like I saw a ghost.
It was Brooklyn.
Now, I don’t mean that I saw someone who looked like her, or that I was just imagining it, like the eyes, finally cracking after stress. No, it was Brooklyn. Her long dark hair, huge beautiful green eyes, and slender but fit body.
She was dramatically pulling back an arrow on a bow, the camera panned over her arms and back, she’d been working out since I last saw her.
I stopped running and stood still, staring up at the television that was playing in an open-air bar. There were shots of her running, shooting more arrows and jumping through a portal, a close up of her gorgeous face, all cut between phrases like “THIS SUMMER”, “A FLINT LOWE PRODUCTION”, “LIKE”, “YOU’VE”, “NEVER”, “SEEN”, “BEFORE”. As the trailer continued on, the cuts to the words were shorter and shorter, as most shots were taken up by orangey pinks and dark blues or greens. Brooklyn was touted as a new and exciting actress in it.
I kept standing there, staring at that tiny screen, even after the next commercial came on.
She was so beautiful. Something I’d never get over is someone with a mind like hers also lucking into a face and a body like that. At least I knew she wasn’t stuck with her dad, but I couldn’t figure out how she got that far that fast. I was relieved, but also amazed at how well she was doing in just under a year. Just under a year and I was still homeless, just auditioning for a fight; I couldn’t imagine what kinds of things she was auditioning for.
I was glad she couldn’t see me in that moment.
I was proud? It was bittersweet, because the moment I finally see her again it’s on a screen, but at the same time she was out there living. She wasn’t letting her father drag her down. It made me want to be someone worthwhile for her too.
That night when I made it back to the gym, I turned one of the televisions on to a random channel. Once the commercials ended on that channel I switched to another, then another, until finally after an hour I caught a repeat of the commercial.
I had been in love with her long before this point.
I had almost used her as my reason to stay alive, the beauty that gave me life.
And now there she was, as if she was waiting for me to watch and keep my eye out for her again. It felt like it did back when I’d stand under her tree and make sure her father wasn’t laying his hands on her, but now the rest of the world could watch with me. The rest of the world could fall in love with her with me.
I hoped that she was happy. I needed her to be happy.
I kept the television on for the rest of the night, making myself work out when her commercial wasn’t on, but the second it was I was there and watching. I had it memorized, every transition and sound effect, it was heavy with loud percussion outbursts that ended up being obnoxious by the end of it. I was disappointed that she didn’t get to speak in the commercial.
The next day I went out and got one of those
I couldn’t help but think about Brooklyn in my day to day life anyways.
I wanted to know if she was okay. Did she go back to her home after she visited her aunt? Was there fall-out from that? If she got hurt again I would have been fucking furious. I couldn’t imagine her dad getting up off that ground and not trying to tear apart the nearest people to him as easily as possible. I didn’t understand why she was still in that tiny town to begin with; she was worth so much more than that.
My feet slapped along on that concrete hour after hour, day after day. I kept on lifting weights, I kept sparring anyone who was willing, but I mostly ran. Running improves balance. It helps with your breathing, helps keep your mind clear, and lets you work on avoiding obstacles.
I loved it, the perfect workout.
On one of my runs when I was trying to fit in a couple extra miles more than my usual daily amount, I had to stop dead in my tracks because I felt like I saw a ghost.
It was Brooklyn.
Now, I don’t mean that I saw someone who looked like her, or that I was just imagining it, like the eyes, finally cracking after stress. No, it was Brooklyn. Her long dark hair, huge beautiful green eyes, and slender but fit body.
She was dramatically pulling back an arrow on a bow, the camera panned over her arms and back, she’d been working out since I last saw her.
I stopped running and stood still, staring up at the television that was playing in an open-air bar. There were shots of her running, shooting more arrows and jumping through a portal, a close up of her gorgeous face, all cut between phrases like “THIS SUMMER”, “A FLINT LOWE PRODUCTION”, “LIKE”, “YOU’VE”, “NEVER”, “SEEN”, “BEFORE”. As the trailer continued on, the cuts to the words were shorter and shorter, as most shots were taken up by orangey pinks and dark blues or greens. Brooklyn was touted as a new and exciting actress in it.
I kept standing there, staring at that tiny screen, even after the next commercial came on.
She was so beautiful. Something I’d never get over is someone with a mind like hers also lucking into a face and a body like that. At least I knew she wasn’t stuck with her dad, but I couldn’t figure out how she got that far that fast. I was relieved, but also amazed at how well she was doing in just under a year. Just under a year and I was still homeless, just auditioning for a fight; I couldn’t imagine what kinds of things she was auditioning for.
I was glad she couldn’t see me in that moment.
I was proud? It was bittersweet, because the moment I finally see her again it’s on a screen, but at the same time she was out there living. She wasn’t letting her father drag her down. It made me want to be someone worthwhile for her too.
That night when I made it back to the gym, I turned one of the televisions on to a random channel. Once the commercials ended on that channel I switched to another, then another, until finally after an hour I caught a repeat of the commercial.
I had been in love with her long before this point.
I had almost used her as my reason to stay alive, the beauty that gave me life.
And now there she was, as if she was waiting for me to watch and keep my eye out for her again. It felt like it did back when I’d stand under her tree and make sure her father wasn’t laying his hands on her, but now the rest of the world could watch with me. The rest of the world could fall in love with her with me.
I hoped that she was happy. I needed her to be happy.
I kept the television on for the rest of the night, making myself work out when her commercial wasn’t on, but the second it was I was there and watching. I had it memorized, every transition and sound effect, it was heavy with loud percussion outbursts that ended up being obnoxious by the end of it. I was disappointed that she didn’t get to speak in the commercial.
The next day I went out and got one of those
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