Dirty English

“True,” I said.

He laughed, and with Declan and Lorna trailing behind us, we headed for the exit.

We all came to a rather odd standstill outside the auditorium. No one seemed to know what to say next except for Lorna, who apparently knew both brothers well and kept the conversation going.

She looped her arm with Declan’s. “You wanna go back to your place and study later?”

She may have liked Blake at one point, but I got the distinct impression she’d switched over to Declan.

“ Study is apparently code for let’s have sex ,” I whispered to Dax, who smirked.

“You look awesome today, by the way,” Lorna said, continuing her flattery of Declan as she reached up to brush imaginary lint off his shirt.

Ugh. Enough.

I didn’t want to watch this, and I came to a rapid decision.

I turned to Dax. “I’m going to grab some lunch at the Student Center at noon with Blake. You want to come?”

His eyes lit up. “Sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “Hey, you guys want to join us on our date?”

“Date?” Declan came to attention, and his eyes bounced from me to Dax.

He nodded. “It appears Miss Bennett has forgiven me for trying to kiss her and has invited me to lunch. Want to join us or do you have awesome plans with Lorna?”

Declan cracked his neck and stared at us both, his gaze intense as if measuring the situation. “That’s okay. Maybe next time,” he said curtly and stalked off with Lorna half running beside him like a little puppy.

Pfft.

Dax watched her ass swing from side to side. “Guess he had plans.”

“Uh-huh.”

He snorted. “You have to admit. She’s bloody awesome .”

He looped an arm around me and walked me to my next class.

ON FRIDAY NIGHT, I fought a uni boy from Duke called Snake. Matches with Duke boys were packed events since we both had local fans. When I’d come in the warehouse, I’d also noticed a few more suits in the crowd this time, and I figured they were scouting me out for the Yeti fight in a few weeks.

I took a punch to the gut from him and gasped. People leaned back to get away from me as I stumbled around the warehouse. Some girl yelled in my face for me to get my act together.

I shook it off and rolled my neck.

Time to end this fight and start thinking about the next one.

I rushed at him, my palm strike clipping his shoulder, not the chest like I’d aimed for, yet the hit had enough force that he fell to the ground. He jumped up and barreled back at me, his legs maneuvering a jumping reverse roundhouse kick that I recognized as a Shotokan technique.

Bam! It was a hell of a move that got me right in the side. I staggered back.

He grinned as he bounced away from me. “Third degree black belt, asshole.”

“I’m better, arsehole .”

Sure, he’d landed a few good hits—the blood that had spurted out of my nose a few punches ago could attest to that. But I had motivation and drive to win, my dream of the gym keeping me swinging.

I wiped sweat out of my eyes and squared off again. His body was lean and tall with fast reflexes, a testament to his fighting name, and I eyed him carefully, looking for chinks in his armor.

Earlier, he’d arrived in a Mercedes and had stepped out with a smirk on his face as he’d taken in the surrounding seedy area. A pretty girl had been on each arm as he’d stalked around the street like he owned the place. Cocky bastard.

I darted in and hit him with a strike to the upper thighs. He grunted and snapped back with a quick two-handed jab. I blocked them with my forearms and retreated, but he followed, still on the offensive, his elbow snapping up to catch my clavicle. I grunted and retaliated with a sideways hammer-fist strike to his gut.

Whoosh . He bent over gasping.

He got his breath and came at me again, but I blocked him. He’d grown sluggish, telegraphing his moves big time. He needed more training, and I watched the frustration grow on his face as I played with him, moving in for a quick jab and then bouncing back out of the way.

He punched at me and I ducked. He swung again, his breath winded.

That’s right, pretty boy, wear yourself out .

I bounced around him and smirked.

“Kick his Dirty English ass, Snake!” one of his friends called out. “I got big money riding on this!”

“Go back to Duke, you utter twats,” Dax yelled back at them, not to be outdone. Dax’s frat brothers agreed.

I kicked Snake in the other leg and sent him reeling. He fell against one of the steel columns that supported the warehouse.

His eyes blinked. Once, twice.

Shit.

“You ready to call this?” I panted.

He grunted, his face set in a grimace as he staggered around me.

“We can end this right now.”

“Fuck you,” he said, slinging sweat-soaked hair out of his face.

“Your funeral,” I said and raised my fists up.

But Snake was distracted by something in the crowd. I followed his eyes across the warehouse to see him watching one of the girls he’d arrived with. She’d apparently slipped over to a new guy, and they’d moved to an area against a back wall to kiss. Tongue action ensued. Hands rushed and roamed under shirts and down pants. They’d be shagging soon.

I looked back at my opponent, watching his face redden.

The bloody wanker was distracted by a girl who obviously didn’t give a shit about him.

I grunted. Another reason I needed to avoid Elizabeth , I reminded myself.