Fighting Love: the complete series Page 3

  But watching Kimberly shamelessly flirt with Marco the last couple hours is enough to make even the biggest saint drink. It’s getting a bit chilly so I walk over closer to the fire. There are no available seats so I just stand a couple feet from the pit, sipping on my beer.

  “Bella.” I glance over see who’s calling my name and spot Marco. He gives me a lazy smile and nods his chin, beckoning me to him. I look around and don’t see Kimberly anywhere near him.

  “Sit with me.” Marco pats his thigh, and I eye him suspiciously.

  “Where’s Kimberly?”

  “Who?” He gives me a confused look.

  “The girl you were talking to for practically the entire night.”

  “Oh… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Come here.”

  I walk closer to him, and before I can decide whether to stay standing or sit down on the ground next to him, Marco grabs my hips, and making the decision for me, pulls me onto his lap.

  “Marco.” I sigh.

  “What?” His lips are right near my face and I can smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with his signature smell of peppermint. I scan the area for Tristan. The last thing I need is him seeing me sitting on Marco’s lap.

  “You’re drunk,” I say to him.

  “So are you. Just sit with me. Your body is cold. I can warm you up.” He twists my body, so I’m sitting across his lap, and rubs his hands over my arms, eliciting a chill down my spine.

  We sit like this for who knows how long, staring at the fire crackling and drinking our beers. At first my body is stiff up against Marco’s, but after a while my body loosens up and I get comfortable in his arms.

  I don’t know if it’s from the alcohol or Marco’s body against mine, but as I cuddle closer to him, my body goes completely lax.

  “Bella, are you awake?” Marco whispers in my ear. I can feel his soft breath against me.

  “Yes.”

  He shifts my body a little and I feel something hard against me. Holy shit! Is that his…?

  “Do you want me to get off you?” I ask.

  Marco doesn’t answer but instead lifts me and turns me to face him so I’m straddling his thighs

  “Marco,” I warn.

  “I just want to see your face.” He gives me a boyish grin and my belly flip-flops. Before I can think of a valid argument—because apparently when you’re drunk your brain works a little slower—his lips are pressing against mine. My head tells me I should pull away and stop him—we’ve both been drinking, this can’t end well—but my heart and hormones win out and I kiss him back. Hard.

  My tongue enters his mouth, and he sighs in contentment. It’s all it takes to make me forget about every reason we shouldn’t be doing this. He tastes like beer and peppermint, and I crave that taste because it’s all Marco. His hands go to my butt, massaging me and pulling me closer to him. Shamelessly, I grind against him not evening thinking about the fact we’re surrounded by dozens of people.

  He must realize where we are because he stands, still holding on to me. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  I do as he says and he carries me away from the fire. I think he’s going to walk us inside, but instead he walks us around to the side of the house. When he gets to a darker area where the music can barely be heard, he pushes me up against the wall and goes back to kissing me. My hands go to his hair, my fingers running up and down the back of his shaved head, then they go to his neck.

  Marco ends our kiss abruptly only to move his lips downward. He trails soft, wet kisses down the side of my neck and over my collarbone.

  “Bella?” Both our bodies stiffen at my name being called, my eyes shooting open. Standing behind Marco is Mason. Mason is a UFC fighter Tristan’s dad trains. Over the last year Tristan and I have started to hang out with him more often, especially since he lives with Tristan. Nobody really knows the entire story, but when Mason showed up here asking to be trained, Ashley found out he was homeless and without any family. She insisted he move in with them and he and Tristan share a room.

  Marco’s eyes snap to mine, quickly sobering up. He drops his hands from my butt, my body sliding down the wall. I come close to not landing on my feet, but Marco reacts quickly and catches me, making sure I’m steady before he lets go of me and turns around to face Mason.

  “Marco?” Mason looks confused. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt. I saw Bella and…”

  “No, it’s cool man.” Marco’s body is straight as a board.

  “I’m just going to….” Mason tilts his head toward where the party is still going on, then starts to walk away.

  “Wait, Mason.” Marco calls out and Mason turns around. “Can you do me a favor? Can you not say anything to—”

  “Say no more,” Mason cuts him off, nodding in agreement before walking away. Marco stands with his back to me for several long seconds, and when he finally speaks, he doesn’t even look at me.

  “This shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Are you freaking serious right now?” I yell louder than I mean to causing Marco to turn around.

  “We’ve both been drinking. Things got out of hand.”

  “Nothing even happened.”

  “Which is for the best. I need to go.”

  “Of course, walk away… that’s what you do best.”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I missed you. I just wanted my best friend back. And there you were, looking like you always do.” He nods toward me. “And Damn it, Belles, I couldn’t help myself. This is why I moved!” Marco yells, his arms flaring out. “I knew if I stayed here, I wouldn’t be able to resist you. Fuck!” He turns and punches the thing closest to him, a ceramic potted planter. It shatters everywhere. He gives me one last look before he walks away, once again.

  Chapter Four

  Bella

  Two Years Ago

  I can’t believe after two years of avoiding home, he picks now to show up. It’s like he does this shit on purpose to torment me. He should have stayed away. He should have stayed in California where he lives and given me the five more months I thought I had to come to terms with the fact that I’ll be living less than thirty minutes from him.

  But no, Marco had to grace everyone with his presence. I mean, sure, I can’t really fault him. His dad did fly to San Diego and practically drag him back here to join them on our yearly traditional Christmas trip to Breckenridge Ski Resort. But would it have killed him to shoot me a text and give me some warning so I wouldn’t have to find out in the middle of the mall food court in front of his mom, Tristan, and Mason?

  I know at some point I’m going to have to deal with all this. I’m moving to San Diego to attend the University of California after all. Sure, it’s a big city, but there’s only one UFC training facility, which means we will be training in the same building. I know it’s my choice to move there. I know the potential situation I’m putting myself into. Don’t ask me why I’m doing this to myself. Does a part of me miss Marco? Of course. Do I sometimes hope by moving there we’ll rekindle our friendship? Sure. Do I secretly wish that maybe one day we could be something more? Yeah, I do.

  But at the same time, I think I want to move there just to stick it to him. Because fuck him for running away from me.

  You know what? I don’t even know why I’m so stressed over all this. I’m not the one who ran away. Twice. I’m not the one who started shit I couldn’t finish. Screw him. He’s the one who should feel uncomfortable, not me.

  It’s Christmas eve, and somehow, I’ve managed to avoid Marco for the most part, aside from the two-hundred-dollar bet I lost on the slopes when I said I could outboard him… and lost… twice. It hasn’t been easy since we’re staying on the same property, but luckily, he’s sleeping out in the guesthouse of my uncle Bentley’s parents’ cabin. I’ve been spending a lot of time reading at the resort, snowboarding, and taking walks. Pretty much doing anything to avoid coming face to face with Marco. Which makes me mad because I don’t have any reason to avoid him. I
didn’t do anything wrong. He did. He chose to walk away, leaving our friendship in limbo over a couple of damn kisses.

  It’s late, probably almost midnight, and everyone is sleeping. I should be asleep as well, but I can’t stop thinking about Marco, wondering if this is my last chance to talk to him before I move to California. I know two people can live and train in the same city and avoid each other, but that’s not what I want. Marco has been in my life for so long. The idea of going another year or more without talking makes me sad.

  Concluding it’s best to stop dwelling and obsessing, and just go to him so we can talk, I grab my cell phone and head out back quietly so I don’t wake anyone up.

  I get to the guesthouse and knock before I chicken out. About a minute later, Marco answers the door. He’s standing there in nothing but his tight grey briefs, his chiseled abs taunting me. He opens his mouth to yell at whoever was banging on his door, but when he sees it’s me, his mouth closes momentarily.

  “Bella.” One word. Just my name. Yet it has so many emotions behind it.

  “So, about that bet…” I have no idea where that comes from.

  “You here to pay up?” Marco smirks.

  “I’m here to discuss payment options. Can I come in?”

  Marco studies me for a moment. What he’s looking for, I’m not sure, but whatever it is, he must find it, because he opens the door wider allowing me access. And suddenly all the anger I had built up, all the words I had rehearsed to say to him, go straight out the window, lust taking over in its place.

  I throw myself at Marco, my arms going around his neck while my legs hop up to wrap around his waist, not even considering he might reject me, that he might push me away. But he doesn’t, instead he catches me with one hand, his other hand slamming the door behind us. I assume he’s walking us to his bedroom, but I pay no attention, keeping my focus on the man carrying me.

  Our mouths collide, and we’re all teeth and tongues and hands. Marco lays me on the bed and breaks our kiss. He stares at me for a moment and I hold my breath, afraid he’s going to run.

  “Fuck it,” is all he says before his mouth is back on mine.

  Chapter Five

  Marco

  Four Months Ago

  “Ladies and gentlemen, in round two by way of a chokehold, the new Light Heavyweight champion… Marco ‘The Maniac’ Michaels!”

  The crowds’ screams—which were already loud—go deafening. The belt is put on me and it seems in this moment like my life is almost complete. My dad comes running to me from the corner and envelops me in a hug. With the fight being in Vegas, there was no doubt my dad wouldn’t be ringside with me.

  The rest of my team all come over to give me hugs. I know this is only the beginning of my career as a fighter, but fuck if this doesn’t feel damn good. With sixteen wins, I am undefeated and now carry the championship belt for my weight class.

  After a couple quick interviews in the octagon, I head to the locker room to get the medical attention I need and take a shower.

  “Son, I am so damn proud of you,” my dad says again as my mom rubs alcohol over the few cuts on my face. I always insist—even though she isn’t the medic for the UFC anymore and is now running her own sports medicine clinic—that she be my medic at any fight she can attend, and she always agrees.

  Hayley and Caleb Michaels are the two people who matter the most to me in this world. They saved my life thirteen years ago from my druggy biological mom. Caleb literally saved my life from drug dealers who were going to kill me, and Hayley took me in and adopted me like I was her own. The two of them are the reason my sister was adopted by Bentley and Kayla, and has lived a life most kids only dream of. I owe them everything, and I doubt I will ever be able to pay them back. The fact is, if it wasn’t for them, I would either be dead or still on the streets selling drugs to take care of my mom and sister.

  “Fuck yes!” My best friend Logan stalks into the locker room and comes at me for a hug. “Fuck yes!” he repeats. I met Logan when he started training at the UFC training center in San Diego about three years ago and we became quick friends.

  “You too, man! You rocked your fucking fight!”

  “Hell yeah! Let’s go! We need to celebrate! And since you’re the champion, I’m driving.”

  We both shower and change clothes to go out. My parents join us, along with some of my parents’ friends. Because the fight was in Vegas and not California, only a few other fighters from my training camp are here as well.

  We agree on Club Eleven and Logan calls ahead to let them know we’re on our way. With the win tonight being on Pay-Per-View, it’s going to be crazy no matter where we go. We jump into Logan’s rental car, a beautiful Porsche 911. Like me, Logan comes from a family who makes a decent living, but where I prefer to save my money, in fear of one day not having it, Logan likes to spend his anywhere and everywhere he can. When you’ve never gone without a meal for days at a time, you can’t understand what it’s like.

  I pull my phone out and see a bunch of texts from people congratulating me on my win. I type out a thank you to each one. Then I see one from someone I haven’t spoken to in two years: Bella.

  Belles: Congratulations

  It’s only one word, but it weighs down my stomach like lead. For a while I used to see her almost daily at the gym, until I figured out her schedule and since then have gone out of my way to work out and train when she isn’t there. She and Tristan moved here to attend college in San Diego about a year and a half ago, and I thought for sure she would push for us to pick up where we left off, but she hasn’t so much as spoken a single word to me, and in return I haven’t tried to talk to her.

  The way I left shit over Christmas break was fucked up, but that seems to be how it goes with me when it comes to Bella. I met her when I was twelve years old. At the time, she was only six, but we quickly became close. While she and Tristan were already friends, Bella and I formed a different kind of friendship. I can’t explain it, but she was everything to me.

  She never asked questions. She just wanted to fight. She pushed me to my limits and encouraged me. Everything was fan-fucking-tastic until she hit puberty. I don’t know when it happened, but I stopped looking at her like one of the guys and saw her for who she was… who she is: a beautiful fucking woman.

  The first time I kissed her, I knew I was fucked. I ran like the little bitch I was—well, still am—straight to California. I saw her a year later at a party and, if it wasn’t for Mason stopping us, we would have probably fucked right there against the wall.

  You would think those two close encounters would be enough for me to stay the hell away from her, but then my dad begged me to join them for Christmas, and there she was looking stunning as always at my door, in her tiny fucking pajamas throwing herself into my arms, and like the dog I am, I thought with the wrong fucking head.

  I took her virginity that night. We had sex… no, fuck that, it was more than sex with Bella. We made love a few times that night, but then when I woke up and reality hit me, once again, I ran. Bella is probably the best person I know. She’s selfless and giving and she cares about everyone around her. She is genuine and sweet and so damn smart. Any guy would be lucky to have her. But I can’t be that guy for multiple reasons:

  One: I’m six years older than her. Sure, now it’s not really a big deal, but back then we would have gotten major shit for being together; not legally, because it’s legal where we lived in Nevada, but her parents would have killed me.

  Two: Our parents are best friends and work together. What if we gave it a go and then it didn’t work out? And while I’m Caleb and Hayley’s kid, I’m still me, which leads me to the next reason.

  Three: My bloodline is tainted. My biological mother was a druggie whore. She wasn’t always that way but once she met my biological father she fell down the rabbit hole and never came back up. My biological father is Ricardo Sanchez. He’s not alive anymore, but when I hired a private investigator to look him up, I f
ound out he had multiple wives illegally, as well as several children. All his wives are druggies just like my mom.

  Seeing how much he fucked up each and every one of those women, I made the choice to never settle down. There’s no way I’m taking the chance of fucking up another woman, let alone procreating. Fuck that.

  So, that’s why I had to walk away from Bella. Every day I miss her something fierce. I see her at the gym and want to go to her. I want to hug her and hold her and go back to being best friends again. There’s a hole in my heart where she belongs. But we crossed the line and there’s just no going back from that.

  I’m assuming by the fact that I’m still alive, she never told anybody about us. Because if she had, I’m fairly certain her father would have hunted me down and killed me. Tristan and I still talk and hang out. He asked me once what happened with me and Bella, but when I asked him to drop it, he did.

  Tristan is a good guy. I thought for a while, he and Bella might end up together, but it seems they are just good friends. They share an apartment right off campus, which is situated between the college and the gym. I live on the beach in a kickass condo with my cousin, Mathias.

  One good thing that came from my mom—other than my sister Chloe—was her sister, my aunt Jenn and her son, Mathias. My dad found them for me and I used the excuse of wanting to get to know them as my reason for leaving for California so suddenly. My aunt had cut all ties with my mom so she had no idea my mom had overdosed all those years ago, but once I contacted her, she welcomed Chloe and me with open arms.

  “Bro! Snap out of it!” I look at Logan and see we’re parked in front of the club, the Valet guy standing there, waiting for me to get out of the car.