Page 54 of The Beginning and End of Everything
The bar is more crowded with men than last time—if that’s even possible. A few keep smiling and shooting glances at me, but I ignore them.
"Ah, treacle." Someone brushes my hair from my shoulder, before resting their hand on me. "Was it the lure of the ball bag cat, or just my dashing good looks?"
I turn just as Kyan steps up beside me. He's cleaned up from earlier. His blond hair is twisted into a messy bun, the scruff on his face shaved into clean lines.
"It was most definitely the cat." I’ve dealt with enough guys like Kyan to know I can't give him an inch.
"Right.” He hops over the counter and squats in front of a cooler, shoving his hand between it and the wall. "Come on now, you little scroate."
There's a hiss, and a tiny, flesh-colored paw swats at him from the crevice. He yanks his arm back and bites down on his lip. "You little shithead.” He reaches in again, this time dragging the ugliest cat I have ever seen out by the nape of its neck. It’s hairless, with pink, wrinkled skin, and bulging blue eyes, and to top it off, someone had put a pink rhinestone collar around its neck.
He cradles it in his arms and leans over the counter, so I can pet it. Kyan may seem rough around the edges, but there's something endearing about him.
Larry struts out from the back, hitching his pants underneath his bulging gut, and his gaze pings between Kyan and me. "Word of advice,” he says, thumbing toward Kyan. “He ain't worth a pile of shit. You're more likely to get a three-legged midget to win ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ than get that boy to fall in love with you."
"Oh, bug off, old man."
Larry swats his hand through the air. "You bug off. Now, you gonna be a proper gentleman and introduce me to this lovely girl or not?"
"This is Poppy. She's Brandon's…" His brow scrunches. "Something."
Larry smiles and scratches a hand over his stubble like he’s thinking.
“Here’s your pussy.” Kyan dumps the cat—who I assume is Madam Wrinkles—into Larry’s arms, grabs a beer from the cooler, and opens the door leading to the basement. “We’ve got a fight to watch.”
I follow him down, right to the front of the ring, and the crowd behind us grows thicker by the second. Brandon appears in the exit, his eyes glued on me. He starts across the room, shoving people out of the way, and the closer he gets, I realize his gaze is locked on Kyan, not me.
He grabs the front of Kyan’s shirt and yanks him up, bringing their faces inches apart. “You brought her into the middle of The Pit?” Anger swirls in Brandon’s eyes, but Kyan looks unfazed by any of it.
"She wanted to come."
"If she gets hurt, I'm going to personally tear you a new arsehole."
Kyan rolls his eyes and lightly shoves against Brandon's chest, breaking from his hold. "Fine. Now go fight. I'm putting money on you, you psychotic bastard." He laughs.
Brandon spares me the briefest of glances before he turns back to the ring. The second he steps between the ropes, the crowd goes crazy.
An announcer steps into the ring, then the bell dings.
Brandon’s gaze hones in on his opponent, and they circle one another, fists up. The other guy throws the first punch, and Brandon drops his fists. The woman beside me gasps, and the guy punches Brandon square in the jaw. Brandonneverlets the other guy get one hit in. Never. The guy hits him again, and Brandon smiles. His eyes lock on me just before he spits blood from his mouth.
Another jab lands on his face, and he stumbles back a few steps, dazed.
"What the hell is he doing?" I shout at Kyan.
He shrugs. "Ah, he likes the way it feels to get slammed in the face a few times. That's all, treacle."
But I think he’s doing it to get to me—because I came when he told me not to. I watch Brandon take a few more hits until I can’t stomach it any longer.
When I turn to leave, Kyan grabs my hand. "Where are you going?" he shouts over the rumble of the crowd.
"I don't want to watch any more of this."
"Brandon will have my arse if I let you leave."
"Just give me a minute."
He gives a reluctant nod, then I force my way through the sweaty men toward the exit.
