Reign stood up, stretching lazily.

“All right, I’m dipping. East, I’ll see you in practice. West—it was nice knowing ya. I’ll be sure to leave some flowers on your grave and comfort your lady friends, who might need some bed warming at night.” He bowed his head, grabbed his duffel bag, and dashed.

East watched Reign’s back before fixing his gaze back on me.

“Are things that bad at home?”

He knew exactly why I was showing up in the ring every Friday, and it wasn’t for the pride or glory. Yes, I was a competitive shit—it ran in my blood. Whenever I saw a challenge, I conquered it, but fighting would never have been my route in life if it weren’t for what happened.

I shoved the rest of my sandwich into my mouth.

“You know my dad. He can’t run a business to save his life. I can’t let them lose the farm. They’ll have nothing left.”

East nodded. “I’m here if you need me.”

Despite it being the fakest cliché I’d ever heard, I knew he actually meant it, and despite knowing he couldn’t help me, it actually made me feel slightly better.

“Where were you last night?” He changed the subject.

“This Grace chick from the food truck had a crisis. She bailed early, so I needed to close shop.”

I wasn’t going to share Texas’ business with East. Not because I had one decent bone in my body, God forbid, but because I was above town gossip. Besides, if I were in her position and someone spilled the beans about my fruitcake grandmother, I’d ream them out and use their remainders as decorations for a Christmas tree.

Texas sure didn’t have it easy.

“Try again. You came back at one-thirty. I was still awake.” East drummed the table, giving me a busted look.

“Grabbed dinner afterwards. Didn’t realize you wanted to spoon.”

“You don’t eat out. You’re too cheap to buy yourself a pair of goddamn socks.”

That was fact as fuck. Buying everyone tacos and slushies a few weeks ago was a one-off. One of the chicks who’d accompanied us was the sister of a guy I’d sent to the ICU after a fight night. He was threatening to sue, and I needed to butter her up to convince him to drop the case. He did.

“Let’s say I did hang out with the Shaw chick.” I yawned provocatively. “What of it? I ate a steak, not her pussy.”

“You never eat pussy,” East noted.

That was also true. Eating a stranger’s privates felt akin to licking a public toilet. I had no idea where their coochies had been, but considering this was college, and not a very good one, my educated guess was: everywhere.

“You never take anyone out either,” East banged on, leaning forward, going in for the kill. “Dinner sounds a lot like going out.”

“I didn’t take her out. I helped her out.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you having a Superman complex.”

“Once every full moon I feel charitable. Sue me, Braun.”

“Bullshit, St. Claire. You’ve got your eyes set on this chick, and we both know why.”

That really did it. I slammed my fist against the table.

“Do you have a point? If so, please get to it in this century.”

It was just a fucking meal. Texas spent more than half of it shooting daggers at me with her arctic blue eyes and silently praying a bomb would land directly on the diner.

“I think you’re interested.” He wore his shit-eating grin. “Tell me she doesn’t bone you up.”

“She doesn’t bone me up,” I said offhandedly. “Even if she did, I’d never touch her.”

Texas was attractive, but so were eighty percent of the girls on campus. And they came without the drama, complications, and detonated self-esteem. Bonus points: they didn’t work with me. Hooking up with someone I had to see four times a week was a big fat no.

Not to mention, she almost certainly sucked in bed.

“That’s what worries me.” East scratched his smooth jaw. “Don’t get her hopes high then watch them crash and burn. If you start giving her special treatment, she’ll get ideas. You feeling me?”

Texas was too screwed-up about her scars to consider getting laid. That much was obvious. He had nothing to worry about. She was the one woman I couldn’t get into my bed on campus, and despite my competitive nature, I was fine with that.

That was the thing about being on the fence with the whole life situation. I stopped caring and pursuing things I otherwise would have wanted and cared for. Life no longer had a taste, and a pulse, and colors.

Nothing charted anymore, and pleasure and pain were replaced with an overall numbness.

“It’s all under control.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my arm. “She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. You hate everyone.” East balled his sandwich wrap and threw it in my face. I caught it midair. Killer instincts. I threw it back at him, getting his eye.

“Exactly.”

“St. Claire. Wait up,” a small voice squeaked behind me.

Feminine footsteps thudded behind my back. I didn’t break my pace or turn around to see who it was, on my way to the campus gym. I’d never had my ass whooped in the ring, and I planned on keeping my unchallenged record intact.

Despite the vote of no confidence from East and Reign, I worked hard and was fully capable of annihilating Appleton with an arm tied behind my back.

“Geez, what’s with you?” the voice behind me puffed.

Texas had never sought me out on campus before. She wasn’t the kind to try to hang out just because we worked together, and it was fresh to have a girl who wasn’t dazzled by my status, battle scars, or anger issues.

She fell into step with me, her fists shoved into her hoodie’s pockets. Her winter attire looked out of place in the scenery of cropped shorts and short skirts. She wore the same ragged, gray ball cap, her long, blonde hair cascading all the way down to her lower back.

“You’re ignorin’ me.” She squinted.

I didn’t answer, still walking. It was important to distinguish we weren’t BFFs. Just because I’d done her a solid last night didn’t mean I cared. I was willing to lend a hand when she needed help, but we weren’t going to sing “Kumbaya” by the fire or get matching Taylor Swift bracelets. East was right. I had to make sure she knew I wasn’t interested, in the improbable case she had any ideas.

“Would you stop walkin’?” She threw her arms in the air.

“Eventually,” I said with a biting tone. “When I reach my destination.”

“Where to? Hell, I’m hopin’.”

“Why go to hell when I can enjoy the same fine weather at the food truck, with an added bonus of your whiny ass?” I wondered aloud.

The air-con I’d brought didn’t make much difference, but I stopped working shirtless, because Texas couldn’t look at me when I had my shirt off, and I was tired of her talking to my boots whenever she addressed me.

It wasn’t like me to banter, especially with chicks—especially with chicks I had no interest in watching taking my cock into their mouths—but for some reason, this girl brought the high school kid out of me. She was never above an immature, sarcastic remark, always down for a few verbal jabs, and I guessed both of us didn’t care about impressing each other.