Chapter Thirteen

*Not edited* Not proofread*

Chapter 13– I guess I'll stay then:

His hair is combed back today, neat and presentable. But it's only lunch, so there's still time for it to end up like it usually does— a mess. He sits across from me with his arms folded, leaning back against the seat of the booth. I'm aware he knows about my staring, I notice his raised eyebrow and slight smirk, but I don't care that I've been caught, I'm not trying to hide it.

"Afternoon," a young woman greets us as she nears mine and Dakota's table. She has her notepad ready and a pink, fluffy pen in her opposite hand. "What can I get you two?"

"Kody?" Dakota asks as I don't make a move to answer her. He rolls his eyes at me seeing as I won't be replying and turns to face the waitress, straightening up and unfolding his arms. "Can we get two Cokes and a large portion of fries to share please?" He asks, and his voice isn't as polite as his words sound. Clearly I'm not the only one with communication issues.

"Did I ask you to order for me?" I ask rudely once the waitress has gone.

"Did you want me to let you starve? Because next time I will," he retorts back, causing me to raise an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes. "Okay, I won't," he admits. "But stop being a brat and just accept it."

"Why are we here?" I choose to ignore the previous topic and move on with the important questions. We didn't talk much during the ride over— actually, we didn't talk at all apart from the earful I gave Dakota about that stoner quarterback; to which he agreed not to do anything like that again.

Dakota shrugs and leans back, his arms going back to their crossed position over his chest. "I told you," he starts vaguely. "To get away from school."

"No. I mean why here?" I stress, slightly irked. "Why not just take me home?"

Another shrug is all I get for the time being, Dakota's gaze scanning the near-empty diner. "I wanted to spend time with you," he finally tells me after a few moments of silence.

I shift uncomfortably at his declaration, averting my eyes from his khaki green denim jacket. The sleeves are rolled up his heavily tattooed arms and he has a white t-shirt underneath. He looks okay, nothing special. Average at best.

"Nothing to say?" He pries, a taunting twitch of his lips. I roll my eyes and look over to the counter on the other side the diner, waiting for the preppy waitress to come over with my drink.

I won't be sharing Dakota's fries.

Dakota sighs quietly and it draws my attention to him as I give him a side glance. He stares down at the table with a bored, dejected look and I wonder if that's my fault.

Oh well.

Perking up as I see the familiar waitress near our table with two drinks in hand, I turn back around to sit properly and wait for her to set the glasses down. The sooner I'm finished here, the sooner I can leave.

"There you go," she says as she wipes her slightly wet hands on her apron. "I'll just bring your fries out now," she smiles. Dakota mutters out a thank you, despite clearly being irritated by something.

I sip my drink quickly, only stopping when I'm slightly out of breath. Dakota watches with amusement as he raises an eyebrow, but he still seems pissed off. "What?" I ask, having enough of his sour mood.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

I roll my eyes and scoff. "Okay."

"Seriously, Kody?" Nine slides into the booth beside me, her bare feet swinging as they're unable to touch the floor. She leans her bruised faced on one of her dirty hands and looks at me pointedly. I try not to pay her attention. "He's clearly trying here. Can't you just give him a chance?"

No, I can't.

"Why not? Are we seeing the same thing here? He is so hot. Like, seriously. Not to mention he is nice, but not too nice. Mysterious but still open. Tattooed, pierced, muscly. He's the perfect package!" She carries on her ramblings, telling me how she's basically obsessed with the blonde boy in front of me. Like I didn't already know.

Go away, Nine. I'm busy here.

The waitress comes back sets the fries between us before taking her leave. I don't pay her any mind.

"Talk to him." I shake my head subtly. "I guess I'll stay then."

"So, who's Matt?"

Dakota looks up from his drink, surprised that I'd spoken. Nine smiles happily next to me, I can still see her in my peripheral vision, but it comes across a little creepy because of the state she's in. Within seconds, she disappears.

"He's a... friend," he hesitates before saying the word, and my head tilts itself in question. Dakota notices straight away that I picked up on his brief pause and I curse myself for being so fucking obvious. "From the club."

Mac's club.

I nod my head in understanding, stabbing my straw against the bottom of the glass, faking disinterest as I continue to pry. "On a contract, or...?"

"Yeah. Pretty much everyone there is on a contract. The only difference is how long the contract lasts," Dakota explains in little detail. I nod my head again at the useless information.

"Does he need money, too?" I ask without thinking, though I don't take my words back or try to cover them up. I've asked now, so fuck it.

Dakota's eyebrows furrow deeply, a crease forming in the middle like usual. He lets go of the glass he was holding and folds his arms defensively. "How do you know that? I never told you why—."

I cut him off. "It's not hard to figure out," I lie, omitting the truth about the interrogation with Ricky. "I mean, why else would you fight if you didn't want to? It's clearly not for fun, and it's obviously not to go professional since you're shit." Dakota frowns at that, I shrug. He's not shit but he still has a lot to learn. "Someone had to tell you."

Ignoring my dig at his fighting skills, Dakota releases a breath. "I'm not going to talk about another fighter's business. But most of us are there because we need money."

"Why?" I'm quick with the questions, not missing a beat. Normally I wouldn't care enough; normally I'd mind my own and turn a blind eye; normally I wouldn't pry because it's annoying and I hate it. But I need as much information about The Ring, Mac, the suits, and Dakota's situation as I can get.

"Like I said, I'm not going to share another—."

"No," I shake my head. "I'm not on about him. I mean why do you need the money?" He seems uncomfortable at my question and by the look on his face, I know I've crossed a line. Before he can answer, I interrupt again. "I don't want to know the exact reason. What I mean is, did you need the money because you're in trouble with other people? Or is it for someone else?"

He relaxes, probably relieved that he doesn't have to answer something so personal, but he still looks like he'd rather not reply at all. And he can do that— not answer. I'm not forcing him to, it's completely up to him.

"It's complicated," he offers vaguely. "But I'm not in any trouble," he confirms, and my shoulders, that I didn't even know where tense, seem to relax.

"So how did you find Mac?" I ask, absentmindedly picking up a fry and chewing on it.

"I didn't, he found me."

"Where?"

"Next question."

I keep the huff from escaping my lips. I'm not good with people denying me things, but I'm getting better at controlling it. "Why The Ring? Why didn't you ask Gray? He's got money, no?"

Dakota runs a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up a little. I've been waiting for that. "It's not just a couple hundred bucks, Kody. The money I need.... it's a lot. And I would never ask Gray for that sort of money. Or anyone."

"But you asked Mac, or at least accepted his offer?" I query, wetting my lower lip as I wait for a response.

"I didn't ask Mac, and he doesn't just give me money. I earn it. It may not be as honest as a real job, but at this age and still being in high school, I would never have been able to get a job that pays enough," he explains before letting out another sigh. "Fighting at The Ring pays well. It's full of rich men flaunting their money and bidding stupidly high to prove a point— that they can spend their money however they want," he looks bitter as he speaks about the wealthy, but I don't sense any jealousy. "Whenever I win a fight, I win their bets. Even with having to pay Mac a small percentage, I still earn a lot."

I don't know what to say as he finishes explaining, but I do have one more question in mind. "If you were to get the money another way.... an anonymous donation, if you will. Would you be able to leave?"

Dakota scans my features for a second before shaking his head, eating another handful of fries. "No. Not until my contract ends. I've already done a year, now. I've just got one more to do."

"And how much money do you still need?" I lean forward and rest my arms on the table.

He shrugs, "Couple of thousand."

"More specifically?" I press.

"About eighty."

"Eighty-thousand?" I ask, trying to keep the surprise from shining through.

"Give or take."

"Jesus, fuck. What do you need that for?" I wonder without really thinking. Clearly he isn't going to tell me. "Why do you want to quit now then if you still need that much?"

"Because it's wrong," he admits, turning his head to look at the diner that's beginning to become slightly more packed. The time is nearing twelve o'clock. At Raven High, we have lunch slightly earlier with the Juniors while the Freshman and Sophomore's have their lunch after ours. To fit it in, we have lunch around eleven. "And because it's more trouble than it's worth. Mac normally isn't so obsessed with his fighters. As long as they turn up, win their fights, and share their agreed percentage, he's happy. When the contract ends, he lets them go. But with me.... he wants something more, I just don't know what."

I do, I think to myself. But I can't tell him that. I shouldn't know anything Dakota doesn't. But now that I've gotten my answer, Mac is a money-hungry hijo the puta, I can see about setting up a deal.

Maybe this would be easier than I thought.

"Enough about this, anyway," Dakota speaks up, putting an end to our conversation— or at least this topic. "How about we speak more about you?"

I hum. "How about no?"

"That doesn't seem fair to me," Dakota watches in amusement as I eat another couple of fries at a time. I shrug. "Remember question for question?"

"That was a one time thing," I object.

He shakes his head, objecting my objection. "Sorry, Kodes, doesn't work like that." I roll my eyes, giving up. I'm not too worried about the questions he'll ask, and I know that if I don't want to answer, he won't pry. "Why won't you let me be your friend?"

"I don't like you enough," I answer automatically, causing Dakota to laugh despite my honest tone.

"But you like me somewhat, yes?" He teases, leaning forward as well, so we're close than we previously were.

"Next question."

He smiles. "Okay. If we spend more time together and I can prove to you that I actually do like you and that you can trust me, will you consider my offer of a friendship?"

"Will it get you to stop bugging me about it every day?" I counter back. He nods his head. "Then I'd think about it."

Dakota looks happy enough with my reply, trying to contain his smile as he nods his head. What he doesn't know, though, is that I don't plan to stick around long enough for that to ever happen. I'll probably be gone in a couple of months.

"I think this is going to be the start of a wonderful friendship," he states cheekily, a playful edge to his tone which I can't help but scoff at.

How naive.

We finish the rest of our fries and Dakota orders us another drink, this time ordering me a hot chocolate and himself a smoothie. I don't really talk, but Dakota does, and I listen to him chat away about anything and everything with a small smile on his face, his mood not dampening since I told him there's a chance we could be friends— even though there's not.

"So, have you spoken to Lilah lately?" He asks out of the blue, finishing the rest of his green smoothie. I tear my eyes away from his and instead look down at the floor.

Truth is, I haven't spoken to Lilah ever since I last went to see her at the hospital with Jace. I've been ignoring her texts and declining her calls, avoiding any and all contact with her. Jace has chewed my ear off about it, but it still didn't change my mind.

Before I have the chance to answer Dakota, preparing myself for the questions he's bound to ask about why I've been ignoring her, a pile of books is slammed down in front of me and I startle slightly, not anticipating the chunky Math book and smaller English book that shakes the weak table.

My eyes immediately dart up to the person standing next to us, and my jaw clenches in anger at his presence.

Unlike Dakota, he wears a letterman jacket and blue jeans instead of black, he smiles at the both of us tauntingly, sending me a wink as his grin widens.

"Fancy seeing you two here."