Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
DOOMSDAY.
Yes. Doomsday he was. He looked like nothing but trouble on this poster.
“Why are you here?” I whipped my head up, snatching my phone down and turning it flat. I placed it on my lap, concealing the screen.
I then met Drake’s eyes, and he looked at me strangely. He was standing a few inches away, arms folded, lips thin. He looked down at my phone with a frown but didn’t speak on it. I’m sure he saw what I was looking at.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never seen you come here before,” he stated.
I gave a quick glance over my shoulder, pointing back with my thumb. “Kylie…” was all I could utter. I felt suffocated by his presence. Smothered.
He cocked a brow, side-eying her and Oscar.
I blinked rapidly before looking away. I could have asked him a million things, but only one thing came to mind. “Now I see why you want me to stay away. You think you’ll hurt me.”
I didn’t dare look up. And that was probably what he wanted me to do because in an instant he sat in the chair across from me, the screech of metal running across the linoleum causing me to pick up my head. His jaw was clenched now.
“You think I wanted you to see that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You shouldn’t have even been there.”
“Well, I was. And who cares?”
“You. Obviously.” He crossed his arms. Then he sighed, looking down at the tabletop. “You’re trying too hard.”
“What are you talking about?”
“To be close to me. To get me to open up.” He paused, lowering his gaze. “I don’t do feelings. And I don’t have girls as friends. It’s better if I don’t…not with you. Not with anyone.”
I sighed, pressing my back against the seat. For some strange reason, I hated the position we were in. Him pretending to not like me. Me failing to pretend that I despised him.
We weren’t like this before. We were friends. We talked a lot. I gave him the cross Mitchell gave me, for Christ’s sake. Speaking of…
“Do you still have the cross?” I asked.
He looked up. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t.”
I pressed my lips together. Something about his face proved to me that he was lying. He wanted me to hate him. I needed his trust. I needed to gain it again.
I missed the young Drake, the one that listened even when he didn’t feel like talking. I wanted him back.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “I know you have it. You just want me to think you don’t.” I shrugged, transitioning to a lighter topic. “But I see why they call you Doomsday now.” I laughed nervously. He stared but didn’t speak. “I see why you’re so dedicated. You’re good at it—fighting, I mean. I don’t blame you for that.”
His shoulders softened a touch. I met his eyes and ours locked. They held for a few seconds, right before he pulled away, looking towards Kylie and Oscar.
He shook his head at them, not with disrespect, but with mild interest and maybe a bit of amusement.
He didn’t get it, but he wanted to know all about it. I could tell. He looked longer than he should have—watched as Oscar ran his hand down Kylie’s jawline and then her arm, murmuring sweetly to her.
He pointed a thumb in their direction. “Is that what you’re expecting? Me to be all mushy like him?”
“No,” I said rapidly, but it was a lie.
“Then what the hell are you expecting?”
“To just be friends. Like how we were when we were kids.”
“Tuh.” He smacked his teeth, leaning against the back of his chair and crossing his arms again. “That’s funny.”
“How is that funny?”
“Because you still think I’m like that. That was an innocent version of myself. Innocent Drake. He was young. He didn’t know better. But I know better now. Girls like you only want me because you can’t handle me. You want to transform the bad boy and take credit for it.”
“What!? I would never do that!” I snapped.
“Yeah,” he breathed, studying me, watching as I balled my fist on the table. “Whatever you say.” His lips twitched. He wanted to laugh so badly. I don’t know why seeing him fight a smile pissed me off.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he felt he couldn’t let go in front of me, or that he had to pretend to be so hard, even when we both knew he wasn’t as cold as he made himself out to be.
In the ring, he was Doomsday. But outside of it, he was just Drake Davenport, a boy with problems and no one to truly express them with.
“I think you are being a bit of an overconfident jerk right now.”
“So?”
“So?” I narrowed my gaze He was getting under my skin now. And he knew it.
“Fine,” I huffed, “If that’s what you want—for me to leave you alone—I will. What’s the point, if you’re just going to be a jackass every time we speak?”