Page 93 of The Deceptions
“I’ve trained for a few years.” I don’t elaborate any more than that. No one needs to know what I’m truly capable of. Even Simon.
“Don’t downplay it, bro,” Jordy smirks, pushing my shoulder. “He can take down anyone without trying. Even the biggest motherfucker on campus.”
I side-eye him. I’m supposed to keep a low profile while I’m at Greenwood. I need to observe, blend in, and get to know people.
“Shut up,” I grumble, slightly blushing at his compliment.
I worked hard after what happened to regain my strength. I felt so weak. So fucking pressed down. I never wanted another man to overpower me again and end my life. So, I took it all back through hand-to-hand combat, MMA, and boxing. Jordy helpedme out a lot, taking me to the ring and showing me how to air out my frustrations.
So, if I ever end up in a bad situation, I’ll know how to handle myself. Well, if they stab or shoot me, then I might be fucked. But I’ve learned how to disarm someone, too. It’s all in my training.
“That’s good to know!” Simon claps excitedly. “Because you don’t want to be on the wall of shame.”
I snort, following him and Jordy the rest of the way to the Coliseum. Up the hill, on a paved path made through the woods, straight to the massive structure we found so long ago.
I crane my neck, looking up into the night sky at the large piece of building. It’s changed since I was last here. It’s been repaired. To an extent, anyway. It still gives the same vibes from the day we found it lost in the woods with the ocean only a hundred feet away.
“You coming?” Jordy asks, nodding his head toward the short line waiting to get in.
I nod in response. Something stirs in my gut. Possibly a warning. Or maybe it’s the memories this conjures. How could they take something we found and turn it into something so violent and bloody?
“I’ll get us some drinks!” Jordy shouts over the noise of the crowd and loud music, nodding toward the bar at the far end of the round dirt floor.
Fuck.
I take it all in. The familiar–yet–different surroundings. I’m almost frozen in the midst of my peers as they converge around the bar and the fighting ring.
Every object has the capability to hold memories. Good ones. Bad ones. Neutral ones. They’re deeply embedded within them. Even walls. Or buildings. Or old T-shirts that still hold the remnants of their scent.
The Coliseum possesses the echoes of our past. It clings to every crack in the façade. Every leftover footprint in the dirt.
It once belonged to us.
Ghosts of our past remain suspended here. Our childhood playground. A place we escaped to, running far away from the troubles back in Greenwood.
Our parents. Our duties.
Our fucked-up lives.
These walls hold more than memories. They hold pieces of us in every damn corner. Like fingerprints left behind. Faint. But they’re on every surface we touched and explored.
My eyes flick to the large bar stacked with booze, fairy lights, and bar stools. Several bartenders work behind the space, taking orders, and pouring beers from the tap.
The memories come alive, flashing like a gritty movie before my eyes.
In the spot where the bar sits is where JJ finally got the nerve to seal his lips over mine. It was tentative and quick. Shy, even. But he did it, and I reciprocated. Of course.
The crush I had on all my best friends was magnetic, pulling me in three different directions. They each held a piece of my heart in their palms, offering me many forms of love.
I never acted on impulses, though. Fearing I’d ruin everything we had. We were best friends. Doing everything together. We lived and breathed for one another.
I suck in a breath, grounding myself in the chatter of the crowd. People move in so many directions. Toward the bar. Toward the fighting ring sitting in the middle of the large space, with a crowd chanting before it.
It was once the spot where we all decided that our relationship was special. Something unorthodox in the eyes of everyone in town. But ours, nonetheless. I couldn’t choose between the three of them. They didn’t want me to. So, we came together as one.
My soulmates.
Or so it seemed at seventeen.
