A wide grin forms on my face before a single thought can enter my mind. “Oh, just get in the stupid car,” I say, blushing like mad. “But thank you.”
Ryder and I sit in the back, Andrew up front. I want to kiss his stupid face for having the whereabouts to pay attention to my feelings, finding him even more endearing than before. I want him to rest his firm hand on my thigh or to lean in and whisper sweet nothings of what he’ll do to me when he finally has me alone.
The ride is only five minutes, so I pull out my phone to check for any messages before arriving. A text from my mother reads,“If only Jeremy were there tonight!”and then Dad,“Good luck, bear. I’ll be looking for you on camera!”
Even Dolores messages:“The baby bonsai tree has its first leaf! I bet that means good luck to you. Hope you’re well.”‘
I send quick messages back to everyone, excited that the momentum, the sacrifices, the planning and training, has led to this hour.
Tilting my view, I catch Ryder on his phone while Andrew speaks with the Uber driver. I find it so hard to resist the desire to lean in and feel Ryder’s body through that suit.
He’s freaking breathtaking dressed to the nines, all that elegance contrasting with those rough, virile hands of his.
I get an idea and open my messages.
Julie 5:56 PM: You should dress like that more often
Ryder’s phone reveals a message, and when he reads it, he smirks.
Ryder 5:56 PM: Ask me nicely
My chuckle spills out in waves, unable to dam it back.
Julie 5:57 PM: You’re so full of it
Ryder 5:57 PM: Only full of thoughts about wanting to see you walk around in that dress... then think about taking it off
Julie 5:58 PM: Well... I do have cute underwear on
He shifts in the seat next to me, throwing me a look, like the idea is too much. I face him and shrug, a coy expression in my eyes, as if to say,“And? It’s the truth.”His gaze lowers back to his phone, typing away with those powerful hands.
Ryder 5:58 PM: Pics later, or I don’t believe you
I grin.
Julie 5:58 PM: Well, now, that’s cheating
I don’t even realize how much of a grin is on my face until Andrew peers over his seat at the two of us and says, “Focus. Who you two texting? Each other, or some shit?”
Ryder glares up at him and closes his screen. “I’m texting my sister, man.”
I stick to the story. “And I’m texting my dad.”
Andrew looks back ahead. “Alright, well, phones away tonight. Don’t look distracted. Look like you’re observing them all. We want a seed of doubt in them, but we also want to be intimidating. We don’t want anyonetoocomfortable. Uncertainty is our goal.”
Ryder crosses his arms, his tailored suit gripping his thick body. He’s almost too large for such a design. And with that smell of his... well, I think my plan backfired, and nowI’mthe one all riled up.
I know I won’t see him later tonight—the fightersalwayshave to focus the night before. But tomorrow night? If Ryder wins, Andrew will be all over the place with sponsors or going to bars, providing a stolen chance at privacy.
How I ache for that, in every sense.
We exit the Uber when we roll up to a very old, elegant building. On the outside, it appears like every other older establishment in Brooklyn, New York, but I know on the inside, it’s a sea of marble and glass chandeliers.They always like to go all out for the gala.
Signs withWarlord Gala 2018welcome the visitors. Reporters wait at the front, a few flashing lights making me rapidly blink. It fully hits me that I’m tagging alongside an important fighter, if not one ofthemost important fighters.
Surrounding fans cheer for someone walking ahead, and when everyone turns to see Ryder, nearly all the reporters flock over, flashing more lights in our faces. Keeping a straight face is about as hard as landing a back-full on a beam.
“Joey Ryder, you are officially back—”
