Chapter Seven
Alexa
The next day I went online and did a little job searching. I filled out a few applications, but my heart wasn’t really into it. I kept checking my phone every five minutes to see if I’d missed a call or a text. By that evening I still hadn’t heard from Ian. Dad got home when I was getting ready for the fight. I lied and told him I was going to meet Heather. I wasn’t in the habit of lying to my father, really. But until I knew where Ian and I stood, I didn’t want to talk to him and let his opinions…all negative, I’m sure, seep into my brain and influence my decisions.
I went to the fight and sat in my seat again near the back and waited. I had that tickle in my belly that I always got when I knew I was going to see him. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle it if this thing between us was really over. I’d gotten even more attached than I had let myself admit. I even really liked this fight stuff, which was weird. I’d started using fight terms as analogies. For example, when he walked away from me yesterday, I felt like he had punched me in the gut.
I heard the crowd roar and everyone got to their feet as Ian made his way down the aisle. I stood up too, feeling the butterflies in my stomach take flight at the sight of him. People were chanting his name over and over. He looked almost oblivious to it and sadly, it reminded me again of yesterday and how oblivious he had been to my pleas.
My heart was beating hard like it always did when he took his place in the octagon. It was a mixture of fear of him getting hurt and excitement at watching him win. Even from back as far as I was sitting, the determination on his face was apparent. His name was still rolling off the announcer’s tongue as he turned and raised his hand in the air towards the crowd. He was confident and I thought that was so sexy. I could see the way he was focused on only the fight in the set of his jaw and I watched as he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then open them at the sound of the bell.
Ian and his opponent, a guy named Bustin’ Billy, came to the center of the ring. The referee did his talk and they hit fists and separated…until the bell rang. As Ian came out towards Billy, I couldn’t help but look at his chiseled abs and chest and remember the last time I got to trace the muscles with my hands. I wanted to do it again…right now. The two men were circling each other, fists up…Ian’s eyes looked like a predator’s and I thought if I was Billy, I’d be very afraid.
Ian struck suddenly without warning, his fist connecting against Billy’s midriff. His punches were solid and quick and in rapid succession. Billy’s fist came up after the third punch and headed for the side of Ian’s face, but Ian moved in time for it to fly right by and returned almost immediately with a right to Billy’s stomach that doubled him over. A left hook while he was bent in half sent him sprawling onto the canvas floor.
Billy rolled away as Ian pounced and they wrestled around on the floor for a while, both men failing to get the upper hand. When the buzzer rang the referee had to urge them apart. It was the first one of Ian’s fights I’d ever watched where it seemed like there was something personal between him his opponent.
Ian’s trainer was on one knee talking to him furiously. Whatever he was saying, it didn’t look like Ian was listening. He looked like he just couldn’t wait for the bell to ring again. When it did he jogged out, right into Billy’s fist. His head flew back, but before Billy could even get off another swing Ian threw out a jab that landed hard on Billy’s chin. When his head was back, Ian went for his ribs. He landed one hard punch to Billy’s side before the other man managed to get away. Ian tried to land a roundhouse kick next, but Billy spun back and threw his massive arm out and connected with Ian’s legs, knocking him down. Ian went down hard on his back and Billy jumped on him, trying to pin him. Ian was able to bring his legs up and get ahold of Billy in a scissor hold and flip him off. Billy was quick; I had to give him that. He scrambled to his feet before Ian got up and he was ready for a thunderous right cross that landed on the side of Ian’s face. Ian barely flinched and came back at him with a series of punches and jabs, not stopping until he had him backed against the mesh and the buzzer sounded for the end of round two.
I watched as his trainer put a towel across Ian’s shoulders and handed him his drink. Ian squeezed whatever it was into his mouth and the trainer started talking again. Once again, Ian seemed to be ignoring him. I felt better…maybe it wasn’t just me.
Ian came out on the third round looking like he just wanted to finish this. Billy threw a jab at him and he dodged it, coming back with a thunderous hook into his opponent’s midriff. Billy’s grunt was audible but he didn’t go down. He tried getting off his own hook but before he did, Ian snapped back with a jab that landed directly in the center of his face and an immediate uppercut which did knock him to the floor on his back. Ian waited and as soon as Billy rolled over to try and push himself up, he pounced down on him and wrapped his arm around Billy’s neck. He pulled up and Billy struggled with him for almost a full minute before he had to concede defeat. He raised his hand and let it drop, twice. Ian got up and stood there, breathing hard and waiting. The referee checked on Billy and then let his trainer help him get up and go back to his side of the cage before turning to Ian and holding up his arm. He won. Again. I was impressed as usual and full of adrenaline myself and selfishly happy because I thought that would also mean he would be in a good mood and he would talk to me. I was wrong.
I got up before he started down the aisle and I waited near the door he always disappears through in the back. He was smiling as he came out of the octagon and on the way down the aisle, he even high-fived a few guys and signed an autograph…and then he saw me and he stopped. I mean, literally stopped…dead in his tracks. People started crowding around him and I think he realized that he couldn’t just stand there so he came my way again and when he got there, he reached for the door…like he was just going to walk right past me.
“Ian…”
“What are you doing here, Alexa?” It was a knife straight through the heart.
“I came to watch you fight. I’d really like to talk to you too.”
“I have an interview after this. I need to hit the shower. I don’t have time for this Alexa.”
“Make time,” I told him, getting pissed off now. “I’m not leaving until you agree to talk to me.”
“Shit! I really don’t have time for this.” That seemed to be the theme lately.
“Really? Because I get the feeling that you just want me to disappear so you don’t have to break up with me to my face. It’s not going to happen. If you don’t want to see me anymore then man up and tell me.”
He sighed. “That’s not it, Alexa…”
“Then what is it?”
“Ian!” His trainer was calling to him.
“I need to go. Meet me at Fatte Albert’s tomorrow at noon. We’ll talk then.”
“Okay, I’ll be there…but make sure that you are too,” I told him. Fatte Albert’s was a pizza parlor near his apartment.
“I will,” he said. He gave me a sad look and then jogged off to meet his trainer. I would have liked to talk tonight and get it over with, so I could stop obsessing and get to sleep. But, it was more than I had to start with, so I was happy.