On screen, people are cheering and shouting and chanting for Ty, my Ty, the guy who used to snuggle with me every night underneath his comforter, his crooked nose in my neck, his tongue swirling and flicking my earlobe, his flexed muscles pressing against my skin. Now he’s everyone’s, and it makes me want to crawl into a cave and wait for a slow, painful death.
The fight is about to begin. Ty is coming out of the tunnel, wearing his signature black skull bandana, the one he wore the first time I saw him. His eyes are dead, completely turned off and indifferent to the chaos that surrounds him. I see a flicker of something flash for a second when they grease his face before he enters the cage. It's not exactly pain in his eyes, but...sadness? Anxiousness? If he is worried about something, I know it has nothing to do with Doherty.
It's about me. All me.
The place is bustling with hundreds of people, swinging their plastic cups in the air, cheering excitedly and waving both American and Irish flags.
I see you Ty signs to the camera, and I know that he’s signing to me. I know that tattoo doesn’t say “Be Mine.” The B is for my name. Blaire. Barbie. I’m the girl he branded himself with, who he’s claimed. Blaire mine. Barbie mine. The girl who doesn't want to hear from him ever again is his.
Me.
The minute both men step into the cage, my heart stops beating. I’m so anxious I find myself holding my breath. Mikey notices my expression as Ty and Eoghan circle each other, fists curled, throwing combinations at each other, but mostly missing one another.
“You know this fight is from last Saturday night, right? Both guys are still alive. Well, one of them barely...” He pats my arm, chuckling to himself.
I throw the towel over my shoulder and turn my back to the TV. “I know and don't care,” I sniff.
Word got around fast at Ned’s that Ty and I were together. Before the debacle in Vegas, he kept showing up every chance he got while I was working. The gossip site piece didn’t help either. I'm not sure if Mikey has picked up on the fact that we are no longer an item, though.
“Blaire,” Mikey says softly, as if he's reading my mind. “Come on, what's done is done. Watch it with us.”
I turn around to watch the rest of the bout. Doherty may be good at hyping the fight, but Ty is an amazing fighter, who can spine-rip Doherty in seconds, Mortal Combat style.
He blocks Doherty’s punches skillfully and has him on the mat in a matter of seconds. Then grounds and pounds him on the floor. He manages to take down Doherty in a minute and forty-five seconds. Months and months of preparations, endless hours of workouts and enough mental stress to rival a president at war, for less than two minutes of work.
Ugh, men.
It makes me giddy with emotion that he wins. Adrenaline pumps in my veins, making me dance behind the bar. The men at Ned’s look pleased with the result, and I watch as both fighters pull their tees back on. Ty’s is black with a white skull and says ZombieNation.
They bow to each other and shake hands politely, like they didn’t just try to annihilate each other. The usual attractive woman reporter whisks Ty straight to the champion’s interview, and I sneak to the back of the bar to stock up on some more Bud Light, and also to avoid watching him more.
He inked my initial. On his heart. He won the fight, despite being all messed up. This gives me hope, because if he can bury his feelings, so can I. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Or, at the very least, I intend to try.
Chapter Sixteen
I decide to send the new phone that Ty got for me back to The Grind. I don't dare set foot in there, though. Not after how I had left things with Dawson, AKA the adoring coach, and Jesse, AKA the wingman. Both probably consider me public enemy number one now that I dumped their boy.
As for Ty, I would definitely never risk bumping into him.
No. I send the phone to The Grind via Izzy, who doesn't seem to share my disdain for the XWL. She returns home horny as hell and muttering about Shane. She’s already replaced my old phone with a new one—her graduation gift. I purposely get a new number so I won’t be tempted to text Ty when I get lonely, sad and teary-eyed at night.
I earned my degree, but I skip the commencement ceremony. I never really dug the whole college thing anyway. In hindsight, I may have been better off studying somewhere else, far away from home, but considering my lack of success in high school, there was no way my parents would have funded an out of state tuition fee.