Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(32)

“Wow. That guy can take a hit,” I said, flopping down.

“Yeah. Till’s gonna have to do way better than that,” he snarked, not looking up from his phone.

“Umm, he totally won that round in points.” I snapped and his eyes finally rose to meet mine.

A slow smile crept across his face. “Oh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Of course he won that round. He just needs to be careful not to tire himself out. That’s all.” His hand moved to my back and he soothingly rubbed my shoulder. “Till’s got this, I’m sure.” He winked, and my cheeks heated once again.

I physically felt the moment Till’s eyes once again found me. It might have been because of his angry gaze, but more likely, it was because Derrick had chosen that exact second to reach up and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. He too was well aware that Till was watching us.

I dragged my attention away from his hypnotizing, blue eyes just as the bell sounded. I barely made it to my feet before the fight was over. With three punches, Till forced “The Brick Wall” to crumble. The ref hadn’t even finished counting when Till started using his teeth to remove his gloves. Slate might have been shaking his head in the corner, but he was smiling while doing it.

Till didn’t linger to bask in his victory. He quickly disappeared. It took several more minutes for them to get “The Pile of Bricks” off the mat, but eventually, he walked out of the ring to what could only be described as a polite round of applause. The only obvious injury was to his ego.

The next bout was in the second round when Till suddenly climbed from the row behind us and into the chair beside me. Before he had even settled, he shoved Derrick’s arm off the back of my chair, replacing it with his own.

Derrick looked around me in absolute disbelief, but Till didn’t even acknowledge him.

“’Sup, Doodle,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just pissed a semicircle around me.

Men were ridiculous. So instead of arguing, I reached back, removed his arm, and decided to play it casual too.

“You dropped that guy! Nice job!” I offered a high-five.

He tossed me a side smile and smacked my hand. “It’s no big deal. He wasn’t as good as people built him up to be.” He sniffed, trying to play it off.

“Oh, shut up. He was good and you destroyed him,” I said, calling his bullshit and causing his smile to grow.

“I know, right!” He squeezed just above my knee.

“Stop!” I burst out laughing while trying to pry his torturous hand away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, faking concern while continuing to tickle my leg.

“Till! Please!” I folded down in the chair, using both of my hands to unsuccessfully stop only one of his.

“You okay, Doodle? You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

I continued to laugh, all the while threatening his life under my breath. I finally resorted to violence by punching his thigh with my knuckle.

“Damn,” he cussed, rubbing his leg, but he did release mine.

“I seriously hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.” He dropped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side for a brief hug, but it wouldn’t have been Till if he didn’t complete the piss circle by kissing my temple.

Derrick cleared his throat, reminding me that he was, indeed, watching our little tussle. We might have been twenty-one, but we pretty much always acted like we were thirteen again. Some things never change.

“Sorry,” I said to Derrick, embarrassed for having acted like a giggling fool.

He smiled warmly and opened his mouth to speak, but Till got there first.

“Hey, Q’s in the dressing room getting wrapped. You want to come with me to wish him good luck?”

“Yeah!” I all but jumped out of my seat.

I could watch Flint and Till fight all day long, but I still thought of Quarry as such a little boy, so I was a bag of nerves. And Till knew it because he’d spent half of the morning laughing at me as I’d tried, unsuccessfully, to convince Quarry to give it a few more months.

I stood up without another thought of the sexy, blue eyes on my other side.

Till guided me through the crowded gym with a hand planted securely on my lower back. I’d long since stopped reading into his every touch. That had become way too time consuming over the years. But just because I didn’t dwell on his advances didn’t mean I’d stopped throwing my own. Just as he pressed his hand to urge me forward, I seductively arched my back. I honestly couldn’t help myself. He let out a loud grumble, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t like it or if, even worse, because he did.

A few people stopped to congratulate Till on his big win, but eventually, we made it back to the dressing room. My nerves calmed as soon as I saw Quarry sitting on a table in only a pair of boxing trunks. Slate was standing in front of him, taping up his hands.

“That’s just gross. You have muscles!” I cried out teasingly.

“You like what you see?” Quarry flexed his arm, showing off a tiny, yet totally defined, bicep.

“Are you smuggling grapes, Q?” I joked, and his smile grew.

“I could ask the same question to your bra,” he responded, and my mouth gaped open.

“Hey!” Till and Slate scolded at the same time.