Resisting Ryann(6)

He lifts his brows, clearly surprised. “Would you mind some?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, regretting it. “I mean, yes, I’d like some, sorry.” I close my eyes, embarrassed. When I open them, he is already climbing up, and he is smiling—probably laughing at me. I would, too, if I was him. I am a mess.

“So you finally said yes,” he murmurs. “What made you change your mind?”

I lie down on the blanket and focus on the stars. “Believe me, I was doing you a favor. I haven’t been that much fun these last few months.”

“You going to tell me why you’re so sad all the time?” Sitting down beside me, he leaves plenty of space between us so it won’t be awkward. My gaze moves over to him, and he taps a spot on his shoulder. “I’ll let you borrow these to cry on if you need to.” He shrugs. “Won’t bother me any.”

I grin, which is something I haven’t done in a while. I hold out a hand, saying, “To be honest … I think I could really use a friend.”

Watching me cautiously before he takes, he smiles. “If you let me, I think I could be that friend.”

We shake on it. “Good,” I nodded. “Then it’s settled.”





“My money’s on Ryann,” Marcus says.

Gage scowls in his direction. “You want to go next?”

Marcus is in his face, “That a promise?”

“Let’s do this,” I tell them, sick and tired of their banter.

Gage shoots me a twisted grin, charging toward me like a mad man. I guess he’s ready to start. “Show me what you got,” he says, swinging erratically. I almost feel sorry for him when I slam a fist into his pancreas. Then the other one hits his jaw. He staggers back, using the car parked behind him for leverage. He spits out a mouthful of blood, and I give him a minute to clear his head before signaling him to come closer. He takes the bait, pushing toward me, and puts all his energy into his swing, only landing a few body shots. It hurts, but not enough to do damage. He’s frustrated and tired.

Using my knee as a ploy, I strike him, and he blocks me. I thank him by sending an uppercut straight to his chin, following through with a left hook. He stumbles to the ground, walking backward on his hands. I let him up. He dives right at me, wrapping his arms around my waist—a weak attempt to take me down. I pound the side of his head over and over. He’s on his way down again. Everyone’s shouting, his earlier words replaying in my head. I stare at his broken face. He slowly comes to a stand. I’m amazed he’s still conscious.

“Is that all you got?”

“You sure you want more?” My mouth curves into a grin. The dude doesn’t quit. It’s impressive.

He spits. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, mother fucker.”

I go with a different approach, taking him to the ground. It may be my weakness, but this guy isn’t a threat to me, and I’m tired of watching his crazy ass get up. I want to end this now. He rolls onto his side, scooting away, but not really going anywhere. I reach around his neck and easily put him in a chokehold. He grips my forearm with both of his hands, squeezing and pulling, trying to loosen my hold, but there isn’t any use. I’ve got him locked in securely. This is over. “Tap out,” I tell him. “It’s all you’ve got to do.”

He continues to struggle. “Fuck you,” he chokes out, his air supply close to non-existent. The son of a bitch won’t give up, even knowing he doesn’t have a chance. I think he’d rather pass out.

I squeeze tighter. “Tap, dude. You’re going out.”

He removes a hand from my arm and slowly presses it to the concrete. He’s ready to tap. He’s turning blue.

“You giving up?”

He taps.

I want to make sure he means it. “Is that a yes?”

His legs are shaking, and he taps again, making it obvious for everyone to see. There’s no question he’s tapping out. I let him go, and he gasps before spitting out another mouthful of blood. He rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. I grab my shirt, wipe off the sweat and blood, then toss it over my shoulder. I walk away without looking back. I’m done.

“You just got your ass handed to you, Gage,” Marcus cackles. Glancing at my father and his female friend, he waves me over. There’s a gleam in his eye.

“I almost forgot … have the two of you been introduced?” He gestures between us. My eyes move to the petite brunette by his side. She eyes me curiously, like she knows something I don’t. “I’ll take that as a, ‘No,’” he answers. “Rachelle, this is Luke, my son, as I’ve already told you. Luke, this is Rachelle,” he appraises her. “Rachelle and I are close. I’ve been meaning to introduce you for some time.”