After She Falls, page 8
Enzo returns a few minutes later, balancing three drinks in his hands. He slides one to Adri. “It’s a dark and stormy.”
She takes a sip of the amber-colored cocktail and winces.
He frowns. “Not good? I can get you something else—”
“No, no, it’s good,” Adri reassures him. “Just strong.” She takes another small sip. It’s definitely better than whiskey. “Thanks.”
Skye gives her a curious glance. “Not much of a drinker?”
Adri plays with the tiny black straw in her glass. “Not as much I used to be.” Owen’s almost daily drinking made it less and less appealing over the years.
“Same here. I just drink every once in a while. Enzo, though . . . he knocks them back.”
He pretends to be offended. “Excuse me?”
She smiles coyly. “I’m just saying that you enjoy your fair share of alcoholic beverages.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault.” He winks at Adri. “Max drives me to drink.”
The next hour passes quickly as they talk, all three of them laughing more easily as the night goes on. When they finish their first round, Enzo buys another. Adri learns that Enzo, a judoist, met Max near the end of Max’s fighting career, and they became fast friends, despite their different personalities. Enzo tried fighting professionally, but he quit after three fights.
“I just don’t like people punching me all the time, you know? I mean, look at this face.” He presses Skye’s hand to his cheek as she laughs. “This face needs to be preserved, right?”
Adri also learns that Skye joined the gym when it first opened, and she quickly impressed Max. She started boxing when she was eleven, earning wins up and down the East Coast throughout her teens, until her mom’s health brought them back to Sparta, where they had family. Now, she splits her time between the gym and helping taking care of her mother and younger sister.
“I do really want to fight again, though,” Skye says, with a look of longing. “I bug Max all the time about setting up a fight for me, but you know how he is.” She sighs. “I think he thinks I’m too young or something.”
“Nah, he just doesn’t want to lose you at the gym,” Enzo quips. “Then we’d have to find another coach, and you know how well that goes.”
Skye smiles weakly before turning her attention to Adri. “How’d you get into mixed martial arts?”
Adri frowns. She finds both of their stories fascinating, but now they’re curious about hers—and she doesn’t know if she’s ready to share it. “Um . . .” She picks out the most basic details. “My uncle is the one who got me into it. He taught me how to box. Then I started wrestling. Then judo.”
“I still can’t believe your uncle is Roman Rivera,” Enzo says, shaking his head in amazement. “What a freaking legend.”
It didn’t take long after her mother left her with Roman for Adri to realize that she was in the presence of a local celebrity. Spartans stopped them everywhere, wanting to shake the hand of the man who knocked the world champion off his feet in 1973, despite being a poor Cuban immigrant with zero odds of winning. Adri frowns, remembering the rest of the story—the end of Roman’s short career—which isn’t hers to tell. But Skye and Enzo wait expectantly.
“He started training me when I was eight,” she adds.
“Eight?” Skye’s mouth falls open. “So you must’ve been crazy good, right?”
Adri shrugs. “Yeah, I was pretty good.” If Roman was there, he would’ve scolded her for saying such a thing, but she doesn’t want to get into the details. The truth is, she was on track to be one of the best. Before she screwed it up.
Enzo frowns. “Why didn’t you go pro?”
“I tried, actually.”
“Oh.” His brows crease. “Didn’t work out, then?”
“Not exactly. . . .” Adri takes a long drink until the ice presses against her lips. “I got pregnant,” she says.
He and Skye fall silent.
“Then I got married,” Adri adds, filled with a rush of regrets. Not about Eva—Eva was the best gift God ever gave her—but about everything else. “And then it just never happened. . . .” she trails off as Enzo and Skye exchange glances, unsure of what to say, until Adri changes the subject. “Anyway, did you guys hear anything else about Gemma Stone? Is Max going to coach her?” Adri recalls watching them fight earlier, how they seemed perfectly in sync. Her jealousy returns. Max talked to her manager for a long time.
“I seriously doubt it,” Enzo says, with a shrug. “Max doesn’t like being used.”
Adri frowns. “She using him?” For what?
“Probably. He’s got a whole mystique thing going on ever since he moved out here. People know that if they can get him on their team, they’ll be on everyone’s radar.” Enzo sighs. “Gemma’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.”
Adri wants to ask more questions about Gemma, but their conversation comes to a screeching halt as she follows Skye’s eyes and looks up. Her stomach drops.
Max—and Gemma—are walking toward them.
Enzo whistles in disbelief. “Dang. That’s a first.”
The three of them watch as Max leads her through the crowded bar. People quickly move out of their way and glance admiringly at the impressive pair. Gemma stuns in tall black boots and a short leather skirt.
“I told him we were going out tonight,” Enzo explains. “But I never thought he’d show up.”
“Why?” Adri asks, dismayed.
“I don’t know. . . . He’s just kind of a loner these days.” Enzo lowers his voice. “He’s been that way ever since his dad died, but it’s getting wor—” He falls silent when Max reaches their table.
Adri’s heart races as Max glances at each of them, starting with Enzo and Skye first, then her. When his eyes linger for just a second too long, heat fills her cheeks. “Hey,” he mumbles, and Adri nods in acknowledgment.
“Where’s Gemma?” Skye asks, looking past him, her disappointment obvious. “I really want to meet her.”
“She wanted to dance,” he says flatly.
Skye looks heartbroken, but Max doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes fall to the only empty seat in the booth, the one next to Adri. “Can I sit?”
She moves to make room for him as he slides in.
“Thanks.”
Adri nods, ignoring her heart’s picked-up pace. Unsurprisingly, he looks just as good in a black polo and jeans as he does in workout clothes. Seated so close to him, she can see a scar near his left eye—one that he didn’t have when she left Sparta. The shape of it reminds her of those leafy crowns that ancient Olympians wore, but the scar disappears into his eye before the circle is complete.
Max turns and catches her looking at him. When he smirks, more heat fills her face. Even worse, for the first time in the entire evening, both Enzo and Skye are uncharacteristically quiet as their eyes shift between her and Max—until he breaks the silence and taps Adri’s empty glass with his finger.
“What are you drinking?”
She looks to Enzo, forgetting the name. She’d just finished her third.
“A dark and stormy. She said she likes rum.”
Max frowns. “I thought you liked the adios amigo.”
When Adri realizes what he’s talking about, she bursts out laughing, surprising everyone.
“I forgot about that drink,” she says, still laughing.
“What’s in it?” Skye asks.
“I honestly don’t remember.” Adri turns to Max and finds him smiling. “It was blue, right?”
He nods. “Yep, with a tiny sombrero. It was also disgusting.”
Adri laughs again, remembering their many failed attempts to sneak into bars when they were teenagers. Max never wanted to, but Adri could always convince him to go with her. Coralou’s was one of the few places that let them in. “Remember when—”
Max turns from her abruptly, and she realizes why. She can’t help but stare as Gemma strides toward them like a queen, her posture effortlessly intimidating. Her hair is long and wildly curled, framing her face. Everything about her is seductive—especially the way she looks at Max. Adri’s stomach twists. As he makes introductions, Gemma barely glances at the rest of them.
“I’m thirsty,” she says instead.
Her voice reminds Adri of cold metal. Gemma holds out her hand, and Max takes it, following her to the bar without a second look at Adri or the others. Adri watches them until they’re swallowed up by the growing crowd and tries to ignore the hot spark of jealousy growing inside her chest.
“Oh my gosh . . . did you guys see her arms?” Skye asks, awestruck.
Enzo grins sheepishly. “I wasn’t looking at her arms.”
Skye slaps his shoulder. “You creep. Seriously, you really don’t think Max will train her? I know he always says no, but will he really say no to her? I mean, she used to model for Vogue or something, right? And she has a camp for foster kids. They’re totally perfect for each other.”
Enzo shrugs. “I don’t know. . . . Maybe she’ll be the one who finally breaks him.”
“I’m going to go get more drinks,” Adri interjects, unable to listen any longer. She slides out of the booth as quickly as she can, ignoring her dizziness as she weaves through dancing people. When she has to slow down to avoid stumbling, she’s thankful that she doesn’t own that pair of heels anymore. When she finds an empty seat at the bar, she catches the bartender’s eye.
“Can I get a gin and tonic, a dark and stormy, and a . . .” She bites her lip, forgetting Enzo’s drink.
“Sixpoint.”
She looks up and finds Max looking back at her from across the bar. He looks annoyingly amused. “Enzo likes Sixpoint,” he repeats.
Adri ignores him and turns back to bartender. “A Sixpoint, please.” Someone sitting to her left leaves, and she scowls when Max takes his place. When he leans in, she smells his cologne. Citrus and pine and something else.
He frowns. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You just seem a little . . . unsteady.”
“I said I’m fine,” she snaps, surprising him. It dawns on her that Gemma is missing again, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are fixed on her, and that gives her a jolt of confidence. She glances at him over her shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“Change of plans,” he says, with a shrug, but his brows briefly furrow. He doesn’t seem terribly happy about it. “What did you want earlier?” he asks, changing the subject. “When I was talking to Linc?”
Adri frowns. Her thoughts are cloudier than they should be, thanks to the rum. Finally, she remembers. “Oh, that. I was just going to run some ideas by you for my next class.” Skye and Enzo were great, but she still wanted Max’s approval too—even if she’d never admit it out loud.
“I heard today went pretty well.”
She smiles, thankful for the good report. “Yeah, it did, I think.”
“But wrist releases are kind of basic, aren’t they?”
Her smile quickly fades. “They’re useful.”
Max shrugs. “Sure, but they’re a little boring. You could try some ground defense next time to get them moving. Or some basic punches.”
Adri’s temper flares. She know he’s just thinking out loud, but she feels strangely defensive. “Not every conflict requires a knockout, does it?” His brows raise at her challenging tone, but Adri can’t stop herself. “Where’s Gemma, anyway?” she asks. “You lost her again already?”
For a moment, his mouth parts in surprise, and Adri wishes she could take her words back. Her cheeks flush as she realizes she gave herself away.
His mouth curves into a small smirk. “Yeah. . . I should probably go find her, shouldn’t I?”
She shrugs, feigning disinterest. “Have fun. I heard she modeled for Vogue and loves foster kids.” She turns from him and smiles flirtatiously at the bartender instead.
Max laughs but doesn’t leave. Instead, he drums his fingers against the bar. “I figured something out earlier.” His face darkens slightly. “When I was talking to Linc.”
Adri throws him a bored expression, even though her interest is piqued. “Who’s Linc?”
“Gemma’s manager.”
She frowns. “Oh.” The sleazy guy with the practiced smile. She takes her drink as the bartender slides it over. “What did he say?”
“He knows Owen.”
His name sends a shiver down her spine.
“Which reminds me . . .” Max glances down at her bare fingers, then back up again with questioning eyes. “Where’s your ring? I’ve never seen you wear one.”
Adri’s head swims with excuses as he waits for an answer. “I take it off to train,” she says, avoiding his gaze. “And I forget to put it back on.”
“You’re still not a very good liar, Adri.”
“And you’re still not good at leaving things alone,” she snaps, flustered.
“You mean leaving you alone?”
When she doesn’t respond, he turns from her, but she instinctively grabs his arm. He slowly turns back to her, and his eyes fall to her hand on his arm before they take in the rest of her. When he looks her in the eye again, heat fills her face.
He leans in until his lips brush against her ear. “You have no idea what you want, do you?”
Face burning, Adri pulls away. “Funny question, coming from you.” She remembers what Skye and Enzo have told her about his restlessness. She sensed it too, ever since that day at the tracks.
He smiles roguishly. “I know exactly what I want.”
“Max.” Her heart beats faster as he looks at her. “We agreed that—”
“I also know what we agreed to, Adri,” he says, cutting her off with a sigh. He scowls down at the innocent look on her face, and she feels a prick of shame. She’s being reckless with his feelings—and her own.
Embarrassed, she grabs the drinks and slides off her barstool, but her steps are unsteady. He reaches out to help her, but she moves away from his touch.
“Go. I’m fine. Gemma’s probably waiting for you.”
He shakes his head in exasperation. “Fine. Be that way. At least get a ride home, please? Can you call Roman?”
“I’ll ask Enzo,” she mutters. “Happy now?” She leaves before he can answer, but she catches a glimpse of his scowl.
Back at the booth, she dodges Skye and Enzo’s questions and keeps her eyes away from the bar and on the dance floor, watching as people rush to it when a new song blasts through the speakers. Her mind is racing with competing feelings—fresh anxieties about Gemma’s mysterious manager’s connection with Owen, plus a small glowing ember of jealousy at the thought of Max searching for Gemma in the sea of people. But those temporarily fade when someone approaches the table and asks Skye to dance. Enzo watches them leave with a look of disappointment.
Adri frowns. She’s not used to seeing him look so deflated, and it tugs on her heart. “Want to dance?” she asks.
He looks surprised. “You want to?”
She smiles knowingly. “Maybe you can make Skye jealous.”
His eyes widen. “Am I that obvious?”
“Not to her, apparently. Come on.” Adri takes his hand and pulls him to the dance floor, surprised by her own bravado, which probably has something to do with too many strong drinks. She guides him toward the middle of the floor, until they’re surrounded on all sides.
“Wow,” Enzo says, watching her dance. “You’ve loosened up a little bit, haven’t you?”
Adri laughs as she looks over his shoulder. She wants to take her mind off Max for a while, but he’s only a few feet away, with Gemma winding around his body like she’s in a music video. His arms are wrapped around her slender waist, but more than once, his eyes drift to Adri. Aware, Adri continues to dance, her hips grazing Enzo’s until he takes the hint and pulls her closer. Gemma competes for Max’s attention, her short skirt lifting slowly as she dances, but Max doesn’t seem to notice. He watches as Adri pulls Enzo even closer, pressing her body against his as she dances, slower and more sensual as the song continues. Max’s jaw tightens.
“No church tomorrow, then?” Enzo asks, slightly breathless when the song ends and Adri releases him. He grins, clearly meaning it as a joke, but Adri feels another rush of embarrassment. She turns from him.
“Adri!” Enzo catches up to her. “Woah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that, I just—”
She waves his apology away. “I know you didn’t. It’s fine. I just . . .” It dawns on her in bits and pieces how much she’s been drinking and what she’s been doing. Snippets of her conversation with Max replay in her mind, but parts are missing now. Her embarrassment grows. “I should go home.”
“Are you good to drive?”
She bites her lip. She wants to be alone, so she’s tempted to say yes, but she knows she shouldn’t. “Could you give me a ride?”
From the dance floor, Max watches with narrowed eyes as Enzo leads her out of the bar. He tries to focus on the music and Gemma—anything besides where Adri and Enzo are going or what they might be doing—but he can’t. It never crossed his mind that Enzo might be interested in her, but after seeing them dance together, Max isn’t so sure. Jealousy claws at him.
When he finally convinces Gemma to call it a night, she follows him out into the cool evening air with a slight smile playing on her lips. Max frowns, remembering that smile. His thoughts race as they get into his truck. He’d forgotten how easy it was to get caught up in her charms, like he did a few years ago. Their brief, fiery fling came to an end when his dad died, but he doubted that would stop her from trying to rekindle something tonight—and he isn’t sure if he’ll stop her. His thoughts drift back to Adri and her movements on the dance floor.
“Is this the part when you tell me why you don’t want to coach me?” Gemma asks.
Max turns to face her and finds her smirking at the tense look on his face. He sighs inwardly. She’s more beautiful than he remembered—more mature, less desperate for his attention than she used to be. He doesn’t want to upset her, but he forges ahead, doing his best to explain his decision with a long list of practiced excuses. She keeps her gaze impassive for most of it until, suddenly, she bursts out laughing.
