“Good,” he whispered, and my cheeks heated to pink.
About that time, Till “The Kill” Page entered through a side aisle. I freaking loved watching the guys fight. It was such a rush.
I glanced to the other side of the ring, just as Till’s hulking opponent stepped inside.
“Fuuuck!” I breathed. “He’s huge!”
Till was big, but this guy had him by at least two inches and fifty pounds. Where Till was hard and defined, the man across the ring had a thick layer of fat over muscles I could barely make out.
“They call him the ‘The Brick Wall’ for a reason,” Derrick chimed in.
“Is he any good? Till didn’t mention anything about this guy.”
“They only added him to the card last week. I’m not sure Till even knew who he was. I’ve heard this will be his only amateur fight before he goes pro.”
“Shit! He’s going pro?” I gasped, never dragging my eyes off the ring.
“Yep. Just like me.” He tossed me a toothy grin.
“You’re going pro? That’s awesome! Congrats,” I responded as everyone started sitting back down.
“Thanks. I’m pumped about it. Being able to make a career out of something you love . . .”
He continued to ramble, but I lost my focus when, just as I found my chair, Derrick’s arm slid around the back. It wasn’t touching me, but I was all too aware that it was there. He reclined in his seat and crossed his legs knee to ankle. I took a second to turn away and bite my lip before looking back to the ring.
I was met with a hard glare from hazel eyes.
Till was standing in his corner, shaking out his arms, but his eyes were not homed in on his opponent like they should have been. They were narrowed on me—or, more accurately, the arm Derrick had draped around the back of my chair.
“What?” I mouthed to him, confused. I mean, Till didn’t exactly love when I talked to or dated guys, but he usually just ignored it. The same way I did when we ran into other women who obviously knew him. We were friends—nothing else. However, the inferno brewing in his eyes said otherwise.
He shook his head and turned to Slate, whispering something in his ear.
“No,” Slate said loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the crowd.
Till shrugged and started bouncing on his toes and pounding his gloves together.
Within seconds, the bell rang and I jumped to my feet.
“Let’s go, Till!” I screamed, causing the couple in front of me to turn around in disapproval. I didn’t care. We were at a boxing match, not the library, and above that, my man—er . . . something like that—was in the ring.
The first round flew by. When the bell rang and the fighters moved to their corners, I glanced down to find Derrick already sitting and scrolling through his phone. His arm was still firmly planted around the back of my chair. I hadn’t torn my attention away from the fight, so I couldn’t be certain if he had watched at all.
“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.