When Declan told me he was an under

When Declan told me he was an underground fighter, I imagined something straight out of Fight Club. You know, bareknuckle fighting in grimy basements, with sweaty men wrestling on the floor while a blood-thirsty crowd cheers them on. But this clean, well-lit basement with a boxing ring and bleachers? Not what I expected. 
They even have a full-service bar and a place to take bets. 
The place is packed as Declan leads me through the amped-up crowd. People start recognizing him, and he waves or politely nods in response. They call out his name and pat him on the back. It earns us a wide berth, and for that, I’m both thankful and irritated.
Thankful, because now I don’t have to brush up against a disproportionate number of guys who are obviously drinking or drunk, based on all the cups in their hands. And irritated, because now a lot of attention is focused on Declan and the girl he’s holding hands with. It’s earning me quite a few dirty looks from the women in attendance.
We pass the betting booth and the tail end of what must have been a long line, based on how many people are here. As we head toward the ring, I see that there are actually four sections of bleachers, set up several feet back from each side of the ring. They’re filling up fast. 
Just as I wonder how we’re going to find a seat, I see Marcus sitting in the front row of a bleacher section. He’s looking down at his phone, but when Declan calls out his name, he looks up and nods in greeting. He stands when we approach, glancing down at our clasped hands before meeting my eyes, his expression unreadable.
“Marcus, you know Savannah, right?” Declan asks, gesturing to me.
“Yeah, we’ve met.”
Three pleasant-sounding bells chime over the PA system, and I glance up at Declan. “What’s that?” It sounds like the little notices they give on subways before the doors close. 
His hand slips out of mine as he sits on the metal bench. “It means the betting booth’s closed.”
“Oh.”
Declan grins up at me and pats his thigh.
Yeah right, buddy. I’m not sitting on your frickin’ lap.
I roll my eyes as I sit next to him on the bench. 
He brushes my hair behind my shoulder and leans in, whispering into my ear, “What’s wrong with my lap?”
His deep, seductive voice brushes over my skin, and I instinctively fight off the shiver it tries to cause. My instinct still tells me not to let him know how much I want this. It’ll give him all the power, it says. 
I have to remind myself that’s not true anymore. He’s made it very clear today that I hold all the power. 
Aside from that little alpha-male fit he threw in the lobby, that is.
“I’m not a child, for one,” I say quietly. “And two, we’re in public.”
His nose skims my earlobe. “So I guess asking you to sit on my face would be out of the question, too?”
Oh, God. My thighs press together as I picture it, my eyes briefly sliding closed.
Why does he have to torture me like this? And in public, no less. It’s so not fair.
I’m immediately grateful for the music that blasts over the PA system as the lights begin to dim. It’s a welcome distraction. I don’t even care that it sounds like the theme song to some cheesy game show. 
The bleachers are now full, and the only people lingering on the floor are big, beefy guys dressed in matching black outfits, so I’m assuming they’re security. 
A spotlight shines on the ring as a guy in a suit climbs through the ropes. It’s expensive and well-tailored, I see, as he takes center stage. He looks nothing like the MCs I’ve seen on television for wrestling or boxing matches. This guy looks like he belongs in the pages of GQ. 
“Ladies and gentleman,” he says into a small headpiece, which resonates through the speakers. “Welcome to The Pit. Tonight we have several exciting matches lined up for you. . .”
Declan’s hand on my knee drowns out the rest of the guy’s spiel, and I look up in the dim light, meeting his gaze. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says. 
“I am, too.” I was curious about this underground world of his, and yeah, I admit I had mostly negative connotations, but so far, this hasn’t been so bad. 
The crowd erupts in cheers and I glance back at the ring, seeing the first opponent climb through the ropes. 
“And now we have Bobby ‘Casper’ Oooo’Phelan,” the MC calls out, right as the spotlight flashes to the aisle and the group proceeding down it, led by a huge red-headed guy in a black silk robe, fist-pumping the air as the crowd screams his name. 
He has got to be the palest dude I have ever seen. He looks downright translucent compared to the black material enveloping him. 
I choke back a laugh and turn to Declan. “Please tell me his nickname doesn’t refer to how see-through he is.”
Declan licks his bottom lip and grins, keeping his eyes on the ring. “He hates that nickname.”
Unh, his lip ring is taunting me again. So is that damn beanie he’s wearing. 
Why are beanies so hot? They shouldn’t be, but they totally are. 
Somehow, I tear my eyes away from him and focus on the ring again. The MC’s gone and a referee has taken his place. He’s gotta be mid-forties, but he’s in great shape and looks no-nonsense. I have no doubt he could put these guys in their place if they get out of line. 
Casper takes his robe off and hands it to one of his crew members. He practically glows in the dark compared to his dark-haired opponent, who’s sporting a nice tan. Casper puts in his mouth guard as the referee stands between him and the other guy. 
“Let’s have a clean fight, gentlemen. No eye gouging, no crotch shots, no biting. You win by knockout or tap-out,” the ref tells the two men. “Are we clear?”
They nod and bump bandaged fists. 
I cringe as it becomes very clear that there’s no gloves allowed in this organization. At least their hands are wrapped, I tell myself as the bell rings and all hell breaks loose. 
Everyone around us is standing and screaming at the ring, like crazed demons demanding their pound of flesh. Declan and I remain seated, our view from the front row unhindered as Casper ducks his opponent’s right hook and strikes, landing an uppercut on his diaphragm. 
The dark-haired guy clutches his gut and wheezes as Casper grabs his head and brings it down, connecting his knee with the guy’s face. Blood explodes from his nose, gushing down his lips and chin. A fine mist of red sprays the air as he exhales and drops to the ground. 
Deafening screams erupt around us as the ref hovers over the dropped opponent. “One. Two. Three. . .”
The ref’s voice fades away as I stare at the blood pooling out of the guy’s mouth, leaving a dark red puddle on the white mat. I don’t know why I thought a ring, some bleachers, and theatrics would make this any less gruesome. 
 
“Champagne?”
I look away from the blue ripples my feet and toes are making in the heated pool and up at the female voice next to me. It’s one of the scantily clad waitresses walking through the top floor of the penthouse suite. Each one has a big silver tray, some with hors d’oeuvres, others with booze. 
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my feet out of the water to stand. I take the last champagne flute off the tray and smile at her in gratitude, really getting a good look at her for the first time. 
She looks kind of familiar, and as my brows pull tight while I try to place her, a flicker of recognition flashes across her face. 
“You’re Savannah, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, frowning as I take in her brown eyes and curly auburn hair. “I’m sorry. . . How do I know you?”
“We went to high school together. Macy Dunham?”
I remember her now. Poor Macy was probably the only one in my class who got picked on as much as me.
You would’ve thought that’d make us BFFs, right? I mean, it just makes sense for the two biggest outcasts to band together and find friendship where they can.
Well, that’s not how it happened. I never had any classes with Macy, so going up to her and saying, “Hey, we should be friends, because I don’t have any, and I know you don’t have any,” would’ve been the worst icebreaker ever. So, both of us endured the hellish years at John Adams High School alone, in our respective bubbles.
She looks so much different than the lanky, frizzy-haired girl I went to school with. Now that her acne’s cleared up and she’s finally gotten her braces off, she looks kinda . . . hot. 
Go, Macy.
“Oh my god, right,” I say with feigned enthusiasm. “How are you?”
“I’m all right. Just working my way through school, one fabulous job at a time,” she says, gesturing to her tray and little black dress.
Her sarcasm makes me laugh, and I say, “Hey, at least it’s not a slutty school girl uniform. You get tired of hearing ‘Do you want extra credit?’ pretty damn fast.” I bring my glass up, the bubbles tickling my nose as I take a sip.
“What is it with these assholes?” she asks, leaning in so she won’t be overheard. That’s really not an option, since there’s a bona fide pool party going on in front of us, complete with squealing naked chicks splashing around in the water. Add the music floating up from the bottom floor of the penthouse, and it’s pretty much guaranteed that no one’s going to overhear us. 
“They think just because I have a vagina and a tray, it makes me an easy lay. Like, what the hell? I’m just gonna spread my legs for your fat, balding ass because you fed me some bullshit line? Uh, no thanks, pencil dick. Now move along. I mean, really, what planet do they think we live on?”
I nearly choke on my drink, coughing and laughing at the same time. “In their minds, slutty clothes equals slutty girl. They don’t seem to understand that it’s a work uniform, not some Bat-Signal for sex.”

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Ketika Declan bilang dia adalah pejuang bawah tanah, aku membayangkan sesuatu langsung dari Fight Club. Kau tahu, bareknuckle pertempuran di basement kotor, dengan laki-laki berkeringat gulat di lantai sementara kerumunan haus darah benar pada. Tapi ini bersih, terang ruang bawah tanah dengan ring tinju dan bangku-bangku? Tidak apa yang saya harapkan. Mereka bahkan memiliki bar berlayanan lengkap dan tempat untuk mengambil taruhan. Tempat yang dikemas sebagai Declan membawa saya melalui kerumunan amped-up. Orang mulai mengenal dia, dan ia gelombang atau sopan mengangguk respons. Mereka memanggil nama-Nya dan pat dia di belakang. Kami mendapatkan tempat tidur yang luas, dan untuk itu, saya bersyukur dan jengkel.Bersyukur, karena sekarang aku tidak perlu menyenggol jumlah yang tidak proporsional orang yang jelas minum atau mabuk, berdasarkan semua cangkir di tangan mereka. Dan jengkel, karena sekarang banyak perhatian difokuskan pada Declan dan gadis ia memegang tangan dengan. Itu adalah penghasilan saya beberapa terlihat kotor dari perempuan yang hadir.Kami melewati stan taruhan dan ujung ekor apa yang pasti garis panjang, didasarkan pada berapa banyak orang di sini. Seperti yang kita kepala ke arah cincin, saya melihat bahwa ada sebenarnya empat bagian dari bangku-bangku, mengatur beberapa kaki kembali dari setiap sisi cincin. Mereka mengisi dengan cepat. Sama seperti aku bertanya-tanya bagaimana kita akan menemukan kursi, aku melihat Marcus duduk di barisan depan bagian pemutih. Dia melihat telepon, tetapi ketika Declan memanggil nama-Nya, dia mendongak dan mengangguk dalam ucapan. Dia berdiri ketika kita mendekati, melirik turun tangan tergenggam kami sebelum bertemu mataku, ekspresi terbaca."Marcus, Anda tahu Savannah, kanan?" Declan bertanya, menunjuk kepada saya."Ya, kami sudah bertemu."Tiga menyenangkan terdengar lonceng berpadu melalui sistem PA, dan aku melirik ke Declan. "Apa Apakah itu?" Kedengarannya seperti pemberitahuan kecil yang mereka berikan di kereta bawah tanah sebelum pintu menutup. Tangannya slip keluar dari tambang sementara dia duduk di bangku logam. "Itu berarti stan taruhan ditutup.""Oh."Declan nyengir pada saya, dan pahanya menepuk.Ya benar, buddy. Saya tidak duduk pada frickin Anda ' putaran.Saya roll mataku saat aku duduk di sebelahnya di bangku. Ia sikat rambut saya di balik bahu saya dan bersandar, berbisik ke telinga saya, "apa salah dengan saya di putaran?"Dalam nya, menggoda suara sikat atas kulit saya, dan saya secara naluriah melawan getaran yang mencoba untuk menyebabkan. Naluri saya masih mengatakan tidak untuk membiarkan dia tahu betapa aku ingin ini. Itu akan memberinya semua kekuatan, ia mengatakan. Aku harus mengingatkan diri bahwa ini tidak benar lagi. Dia telah membuatnya sangat jelas hari ini bahwa saya memegang semua kekuasaan. Selain dari yang cocok alpha-laki-laki kecil dia melemparkan di lobi, yaitu."Aku tidak seorang anak, untuk satu," kataku dengan tenang. "Dan dua, kita berada di umum."Hidungnya skims daun telinga saya. "Jadi saya kira meminta Anda untuk duduk di wajah saya akan keluar dari pertanyaan, juga?"Oh, Allah. Paha saya tekan bersama-sama seperti saya gambar itu, mata saya sebentar geser tertutup.Mengapa dia harus menyiksa saya seperti ini? Dan di depan umum, tidak kurang. Hal ini sangat tidak adil.Saya bersyukur segera untuk musik yang ledakan melalui sistem PA sebagai lampu mulai redup. Ini adalah gangguan yang selamat datang. Aku bahkan tidak peduli bahwa itu terdengar seperti lagu tema permainan Tampilkan beberapa cheesy. Bangku-bangku sekarang penuh, dan satu-satunya orang yang berlama-lama di lantai adalah orang-orang yang besar, gemuk, berpakaian dalam pencocokan pakaian hitam, jadi saya menduga mereka sedang keamanan. Spotlight bersinar pada cincin sebagai seorang pria dalam setelan memanjat melalui tali. Ini mahal dan dirancang, saya melihat, saat ia mengambil tengah panggung. Dia tampak tidak seperti MCs yang pernah kulihat di televisi untuk gulat atau tinju pertandingan. Orang ini tampak seperti ia berada di halaman GQ. "Wanita dan pria," katanya ke headpiece kecil, yang bergema melalui speaker. "Selamat datang ke dalam jurang. Malam ini kita memiliki beberapa pertandingan menarik berbaris untuk Anda..."Declan di tangan pada lutut saya tenggelam out sisa orang omongan, dan aku melihat dalam cahaya yang suram, pertemuan dengan tatapan. "Saya benar-benar senang kau di sini," katanya. "Saya, juga." Saya ingin tahu tentang dunia bawah tanah nya, dan ya, saya akui saya memiliki konotasi negatif sebagian besar, tapi sejauh ini, ini belum begitu buruk. Kerumunan meletus dalam sorak-sorai dan aku melirik kembali cincin, melihat lawan pendakian pertama melalui tali. "Dan sekarang kita memiliki Bobby 'Casper' Oooo'Phelan" MC panggilan keluar, tepat sebagai kilatan sorotan lorong dan persidangan kelompok turun, dipimpin oleh seorang besar berkepala merah pria dalam sutra jubah hitam, kepalan tangan memompa udara sebagai kerumunan berteriak nama-Nya. Dia harus menjadi yang dude pucat yang pernah saya lihat. Dia tampak benar-benar tembus dibanding bahan hitam membungkus kepadanya. Aku tersedak kembali tertawa dan beralih ke Declan. "Tolong katakan padaku akrabnya tidak merujuk kepada bagaimana tembus Dialah."Declan menjilat nya bibir bawah dan nyengir, menjaga mata pada cincin. "Dia membenci julukan itu."Unh, cincinnya bibir mengejek saya lagi. Jadi adalah bahwa beanie sialan dia memakai. Mengapa Apakah beanies begitu panas? Mereka tidak boleh, tetapi mereka benar-benar. Entah bagaimana, saya merobek mataku dari dia dan fokus pada cincin lagi. MC yang pergi dan wasit telah mengambil tempatnya. Dia harus menjadi empat puluhan, tapi dia dalam kondisi sangat baik dan tampak sungguh-sungguh. Aku punya diragukan lagi dia bisa menempatkan orang-orang ini di tempat mereka jika mereka keluar jalur. Casper landas jubahnya dan tangan ke salah satu awak nya. Ia praktis bersinar dalam gelap dibandingkan lawannya berambut gelap, yang adalah olahraga tan bagus. Casper menempatkan dalam mulutnya penjaga sebagai wasit berdiri antara dia dan orang lain. "Mari kita memiliki bersih melawan, tuan-tuan. Tidak ada mata mencongkel, tidak ada gambar selangkangan, tidak menggigit. Anda menang oleh babak atau tekan-out,"ref memberitahu dua laki-laki. "Apakah kita jelas?"They nod and bump bandaged fists. I cringe as it becomes very clear that there’s no gloves allowed in this organization. At least their hands are wrapped, I tell myself as the bell rings and all hell breaks loose. Everyone around us is standing and screaming at the ring, like crazed demons demanding their pound of flesh. Declan and I remain seated, our view from the front row unhindered as Casper ducks his opponent’s right hook and strikes, landing an uppercut on his diaphragm. The dark-haired guy clutches his gut and wheezes as Casper grabs his head and brings it down, connecting his knee with the guy’s face. Blood explodes from his nose, gushing down his lips and chin. A fine mist of red sprays the air as he exhales and drops to the ground. Deafening screams erupt around us as the ref hovers over the dropped opponent. “One. Two. Three. . .”The ref’s voice fades away as I stare at the blood pooling out of the guy’s mouth, leaving a dark red puddle on the white mat. I don’t know why I thought a ring, some bleachers, and theatrics would make this any less gruesome.  “Champagne?”I look away from the blue ripples my feet and toes are making in the heated pool and up at the female voice next to me. It’s one of the scantily clad waitresses walking through the top floor of the penthouse suite. Each one has a big silver tray, some with hors d’oeuvres, others with booze. “Thank you,” I say, pulling my feet out of the water to stand. I take the last champagne flute off the tray and smile at her in gratitude, really getting a good look at her for the first time. 
She looks kind of familiar, and as my brows pull tight while I try to place her, a flicker of recognition flashes across her face. 
“You’re Savannah, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, frowning as I take in her brown eyes and curly auburn hair. “I’m sorry. . . How do I know you?”
“We went to high school together. Macy Dunham?”
I remember her now. Poor Macy was probably the only one in my class who got picked on as much as me.
You would’ve thought that’d make us BFFs, right? I mean, it just makes sense for the two biggest outcasts to band together and find friendship where they can.
Well, that’s not how it happened. I never had any classes with Macy, so going up to her and saying, “Hey, we should be friends, because I don’t have any, and I know you don’t have any,” would’ve been the worst icebreaker ever. So, both of us endured the hellish years at John Adams High School alone, in our respective bubbles.
She looks so much different than the lanky, frizzy-haired girl I went to school with. Now that her acne’s cleared up and she’s finally gotten her braces off, she looks kinda . . . hot. 
Go, Macy.
“Oh my god, right,” I say with feigned enthusiasm. “How are you?”
“I’m all right. Just working my way through school, one fabulous job at a time,” she says, gesturing to her tray and little black dress.
Her sarcasm makes me laugh, and I say, “Hey, at least it’s not a slutty school girl uniform. You get tired of hearing ‘Do you want extra credit?’ pretty damn fast.” I bring my glass up, the bubbles tickling my nose as I take a sip.
“What is it with these assholes?” she asks, leaning in so she won’t be overheard. That’s really not an option, since there’s a bona fide pool party going on in front of us, complete with squealing naked chicks splashing around in the water. Add the music floating up from the bottom floor of the penthouse, and it’s pretty much guaranteed that no one’s going to overhear us. 
“They think just because I have a vagina and a tray, it makes me an easy lay. Like, what the hell? I’m just gonna spread my legs for your fat, balding ass because you fed me some bullshit line? Uh, no thanks, pencil dick. Now move along. I mean, really, what planet do they think we live on?”
I nearly choke on my drink, coughing and laughing at the same time. “In their minds, slutty clothes equals slutty girl. They don’t seem to understand that it’s a work uniform, not some Bat-Signal for sex.”