Finding Me (12 page)

I fish through several stems to reach the card and pull it from the small plastic bracket.

Harper,

Please, for the love of my record, come to my match Saturday.

Otherwise, I’ll be too distracted wondering what you’re doing.

My victory depends on you—no pressure. ;)

Love,

Danny

“That good?”

I slide the two tickets between my thumb and forefinger so Fitz can see them.

“Harper, do you realize how great these seats are? We’re going to be able to smell their sweat!”

My nose crinkles at the thought, and I drop my hand holding the tickets to the table. “Fitz, this is edging dangerously close to dating. I’ve hung out with him like five times in two weeks. Two of them …
by myself
.” I enunciate my last words since Fitz had called last minute to cancel on both occasions, claiming things had “come up.”

“Oh, come on! I’ll buy you a cotton candy!” Fitz pleads, palming the two tickets that are addressed to each of us.

“Fitz, I’m not ready to date. That one kiss about broke me. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Hurt him? Wait until you see how tough he is, then you won’t be nearly so concerned.”

“Hardy har har,” I reply sarcastically.

“And not to hurt your feelings, babe, but he’s pretty well known—if that little scene at the bar was any indication for you. I don’t mean to sound chauvinistic, but there are a lot of women that voluntarily
throw
themselves at Danny.” I find Fitz’s words to be far more comforting than hurtful as I finally agree to go.

The match is apparently a pretty big deal, though it’s untelevised. Danny moved from amateur to professional boxing, and he’s admitted to me that he’s still feeling a bit out of his element.

People are going crazy by the time the match starts, screaming obscenities that make no sense, and are filled with rage. It has me feeling a little uneasy. Fitz sits beside me, undeterred as he looks up the stats on Danny’s opponent, Theo Duvall, more commonly known in the arena as Midnight Assassin.

“These nicknames are ridiculous,” I comment, reading a list of competitors that the Midnight Assassin has already defeated. “What’s Danny’s name?”

Fitz’s eyes dance as he looks at me with obvious amusement. “Double D.”

My eyes roll to the ceiling. “Oh my God, that’s even worse,” I cry, clasping a hand to my forehead. “Double D? Are you serious?”

“Harper! Fitz!”

My tirade on how unbelievably stupid and sexist I find Danny’s nickname falls short as I turn to see Daniel approaching, wearing a smile as though the match is already over and Danny had been claimed the victor.

“Hey, guys! Danny will be upset I didn’t catch you sooner. He wanted to see you before the match started. He’s getting stretched right now and trying to focus. I’ll let him know that you’re here, but things are about to get started so we’ll have to wait until it’s over to bring you back. Here,” he says, handing both of us a small tote. “This whole match has been kind of a mess. These were supposed to come sooner, but this place is under new management. There are backstage passes for after the match, some water and drink vouchers, and some other stuff.”

“Wow, thank you,” I say in surprise, looking over to see Fitz rifling through his bag with an infectious amount of enthusiasm. “Thank you so much. This is really way too generous.”

“He’s thrilled to have you guys here tonight.”

I smile to avoid admitting how much I don’t want to be here, or watch this. “Tell Danny we wish him luck and that we’ll see him soon.”

“He claims he isn’t nervous at all. That all his nerves were used up asking you to come.”

My cheeks redden and words escape me. I know that Danny’s close with his family, but this is really awkward.

“Tell him to overcompensate to his right. A friend of mine said that The Assassin’s trying to keep it quiet, but he pulled some ligaments on his right serratus anterior.”

Thankfully Daniel’s gaze turns to Fitz in curiosity. “And that would be located where exactly?”

“A little lower than the pec,” Fitz answers.

Daniel’s hand grazes his own chest in confirmation.

“More on the side.” I reach forward and slide his hand toward his armpit.

Daniel smiles and nods a couple of times. “I’ll let him know. The passes will get you back there, but you have to wait until the mat is cleared.”

We say quick goodbyes and then I listen to Fitz explain the different divisions of professional and amateur boxing.

When the emcee stands in the middle of the ring, the crowd is already going crazy. He riles them up even more with some carefully chosen words. My heart races in synchronization to the thundering roar of the crowd as Danny climbs through the ropes, his hands covered in large gloves. White tape peeks out from each, making me briefly wonder if his wrists are hurt until I notice the Midnight Assassin’s wrists are taped too.

“Don’t they wear something to cover their faces?”

Fitz turns and shakes his head. “Only in the amateur league.”

My eyes widen in disbelief, and Fitz clutches my hand. “Don’t worry, H. Danny’s here because he’s good. He’s going to be fine.”

I barely watch any of the fight. I can’t. My thoughts on it being barbaric are amplified as I struggle to remain seated throughout the event as grunts and impacts reach my ears. I work even harder to ignore the increasingly savage things people are screaming around us.

The match ends with Danny’s arm being held high in the air, his entire body covered in a sheen of sweat that he swipes from his forehead with the back of his free forearm. His eyes are bright with adrenaline and they dance around the seats near us until they stop, and his already growing smile reaches full throttle. His arm shoots out and he points at me.

My mind instantly questions the validity of what’s occurring, certain that he’s just pointing in the general vicinity, or possibly at one of the girls standing near me, screaming his name and other promises.

“I think he’s telling them all he’s only interested in one pair of panties,” Fitz whispers. My eyes narrow at him, making him laugh.

I turn back to Danny, expecting to see him acknowledging the crowds, maybe speaking with his trainers, or shaking hands with his opponent. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to see because I’ve never been to a boxing match before, but him standing in the same position, arm still extended and eyes focused on me was not it.

That night I lie in my bed thinking about the past couple of months and smile. This transition has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced, but I’m starting to feel again. I’m feeling happiness and excitement. I’m feeling humor and love. I know that most of this is attributed to Fitz and my sisters who have all banned together and made efforts to reach out to me and not allow me to shut them out, even when I occasionally still try. I know that as slow as I am to admitting it, Kitty is also a really large factor in this. She’s teaching me how to not only trust myself, but like parts of me that I feel I’ve battled with for so long. And now Danny and his entire family have been added to my list of people that are making this not only easier, but fun.

“It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.”

–Aristotle Onassis

I
t’s Tuesday, and just after 1:00 a.m. in California. I know I’ll wake her up if I call, but I can’t rid the image that keeps playing in my head that’s making my heart race faster each time it reappears. I try to distract myself and open my laptop to pull up the app for movies and TV shows, but I can’t seem to focus on any of them, and I already know the power of my imagination—there are times that it’s ruthless. I’ve been haunted with these nightmares plenty of times, but this one was so real that I still see it each time I blink.

My thumb scrolls down to her name and hits send.

“What’s wrong?” Kendall answers, panic coating her sleep-filled voice. I have to lift the phone away as my eyes squeeze shut and fresh tears flow down my cheeks with a mixture of relief and sadness from missing her.

I take a deep breath and force a fake smile on my face. Even though she can’t see it, I need her to hear that I’m okay. “I’m sorry. I just had this crazy dream, and I really needed to hear your voice,” I admit.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head and let out a guttural and choppy laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “No. No, I don’t,” I assure her. “I’m sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“It’s okay, I’m up.”

“It’s one-thirty, you should be sleeping. And you don’t want to wake Jameson up too. You guys have to work in the morning.”

“A tank could drive through our room and Jameson wouldn’t wake up.” A genuine laugh escapes my lips, followed by a few more residual tears that I wipe away with my knuckles. “I’m serious! Do you remember when Abby and Jenny were over and Jenny was freaking out about her first date with Adam, so we all started taking shots and reliving our worst first dates?”

“They had to stay over because they were so drunk,” I say, recalling the night with a laugh.

“Yes, all in mine and Jameson’s room!”

“Oh my God, I forgot about that.” My cheeks begin to burn with a smile and residual embarrassment.

“He’ll be disappointed to learn that you’ve already forgotten spooning with him.”

“It didn’t work very well. I was the big spoon for him, and the little spoon for Abby.” I laugh again and close my eyes, picturing the tangled sheet that was too weighted by Jenny for me to pull any higher than my hip. “I could hardly move all night, and my right arm was freezing since he insists on sleeping with that stupid fan.”

Kendall giggles. I’m sure her mind is tracing back to the same memory that mine is of Jesse waking us all up with mouthfuls of Spanish words that seemed much louder and more confusing with the hangovers we were suffering from.

The noise attracted both Max and Landon to come rushing in, barely clothed and looking confused and concerned, each carrying a weapon: Max, a baseball bat, and Landon, a golf club. The next afternoon, Abby did a fifteen minute impression of the two of them that had Kendall and me in tears.

Jameson slept through it all, finally waking up when Max shoved him, and told him he’d violated some brotherly code by cuddling with me.

“I can’t believe Abby’s going to be a mom,” I say on a whisper as I curl my legs tighter to my chest.

“I know. She’s going to make a great mom though.”

“You’re right, she is. And they’re going to have such a stinking cute kid. It’s going to be ridiculous.”

A companionable silence settles between us, and it’s comforting to have it there and not have either of us working to fill it like we have been over the past few months.

“And Jenny’s getting married to a good guy.”

“He is a good guy,” I say, quietly filling my lungs with a breath of cold air.

“I’m really excited to see you.” Kendall’s voice is warm and as comforting as my pillow.

“I’m excited to see you too. Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Kendall?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

“I love you too, Ace.”

I fall asleep with a watery smile across my face.