“She’s gonna be looking for you,” Liam says, taping up my knuckles as I bounce lightly on my feet. “You sure you wanna do this right now?”

I don’t answer him. Not because I don’t want to—but because if I do, I’ll lose focus. And I can’t afford that tonight. Not with who I’m fighting. Not with what’s on the line. I nod. He gets the message.

You promised me one dance. One fucking dance.

And I promised I’d be there.

I hate that I’m even doing this tonight, of all nights. But the call came in and when the leaders of the underground boxing ring say jump, you don’t ask how high. You just run. That’s what this world is—dirty, fast, brutal. But it pays. It’s the only thing that’s keeping Mum’s treatments going. The hospital doesn’t give a shit about promises or love or dances. They want money. And I only know one way to get it fast. You know about my fights and I know you’re worried about me. I hate that.

I wipe sweat off my brow and try not to think about how you looked earlier, spinning around in your room, showing me your dress for our valentines school dance like it wasn’t going to ruin me completely. I smiled, told you I’d see you later, made you promise to save me a dance. You grinned and said, “Don’t be late.”

I’m trying, angel. I really am.

Thing is… I wish I could just say it. Tell you that it’s more than a friendship for me. That I think about you all the damn time. But if they found out? If the wrong people figured out how much you mean to me? You’d be gone in a heartbeat. A threat. A target. A weakness.

So I stay quiet.

The bell rings. I step into the cage.

And all I can think about—between fists and blood and broken ribs—is you. Your laugh. Your stupid little jokes. That pink dress.

By the time I knock the guy out, my knuckles are busted open, I have some cuts and bruises and my lungs are burning, but I’m already grabbing my jacket. I run. I don’t even bother to shower. I just run.

You’ll be at the valentines school dance waiting for me, I need to get there now.