‘You’re what?’ Toni’s voice sounds through the speaker as I riffle through my suitcase to find a pair of strappy sandals and my favourite playsuit, the one with the zipper at the front.
‘I’m going to watch a boxing match. It’s a thing, apparently. They’re into boxing. I wasn’t going to hang out with them during the day. I mean, it’s kinda a buck’s week, but Max actually wants me there. He invited me.’
‘Oh, I’m so jealous. I love watching two men sharing blows. . . obviously.’
‘Your innuendos have no bounds.’ I get dressed and lean over to wrap the spaghetti straps of my sandals around my ankles. ‘Toni?’ I pause for a moment, staring at myself in the mirror. Blushing cheeks, moist skin, and wild natural waves cascading down my shoulders. . . ‘We were careless last night.’
‘Don’t tell me.’
‘I mean. . . He didn’t wear a condom.’
‘So now you have officially had sex with everyone he has.’ He makes a sound of disgust. ‘That’s a lot of fanny.’
I stare at my reflection, my brows drawn together in contemplation. ‘Can I get the morning after pill here in Bali? Aren’t they super religious?’
‘I don’t know, darlin. You can always take it when you get home.’
‘No, I googled it. It has to be taken within seventy-two hours or the chance of it working can drop to below fifty percent.’
‘I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about that side of things.’
‘Toni. . .’ I shake my head slowly and smile at myself in the mirror, thinking about Max and I last night. The way his whole face was soft with affection when he’d said he was happy. That he felt happy. ‘You were right. I’m so obsessed with him. I want to be around him and smell him and hear his jerky comments all day. I’m in serious trouble.’
My body feels different. Before Max, I couldn’t care less about intimate affection. It was never really something I’d craved. But I’m an addict now. I crave Max. His approval. His mere attention. His rough, manly hands on my soft skin and that deep, manly scent. That fricking smile. . . I sigh just thinking about that smile. That sweet crooked smile that tells me he’s just a boy, a boy who is enjoying a girl.
‘Tell me about the sex?’ Toni presses.
‘No. . .’ I stiffen as if he can see me. ‘It’s private.’
‘Nothing is private between me and you.’
‘No. I don’t want to.’
‘Please. I’ve waited so long to talk about sex stuff with you because of the whole asexual pigeon thing and now you won’t cough up the goods? It’s not fair.’
‘Fine.’ I cover my face when my cheeks start to tingle. ‘So, apparently, I like. . . Oh God, I can’t even say it.’
He claps and squeals. ‘Ooooh. Like what? Like what?’
I scrunch up my face, cringing. ‘My. . . bum being played with.’
Loud laughter creates crackling feedback in the speaker. ‘Me too!’
‘Oh my gawd, stop it. I can’t talk about this anymore. My cheeks are on fire with embarrassment.’
‘No, that’s the chlamydia he’s given you.’
‘That’s not funny,’ I mutter.
He laughs again. ‘I got a kick out of it.’
I walk towards the arena, gripping the straps of my backpack as motorbikes and scooters scatter around me in a chaotic formation. People shuffle about. Beautiful Balinese girls strut towards the entrance in high heels, balancing perfectly on the cobblestone streets. Overwhelmed by the crowd and nervous about seeing Max, still unsure about which version of his personality I’ll be graced with today, I search around for him, or Flick, or anyone.
A black motorbike pulls up alongside me. ‘Get on.’
My smile meets my eyes when I see Max gripping the handlebars. No helmet. No jacket. Just a tee-shirt, shorts, aviators, and flipflops.
It’s Bali.
Grabbing his shoulders, I swing my leg over the bike and cuddle his waist, resting my cheek on his warm back. My arms tighten as the bike takes off.
This is a good start. Apparently, I get nice Max today.
When we pull up around the back of the arena, I slide off and he kicks the stand down. He leans the heavy bike to the side before swinging his leg over.
He stills in front of me. ‘You prepared for this madness?’
‘I’m a ballerina. There’s nothing I’ll see in there that can compare to what I’ve put my body through.’
He laughs but has no rebuttal. ‘Good.’ His eyes drop to the zipper running down between my breasts. ‘I like this.’
I swallow. ‘Good.’
When I’m around Max, it feels like I’ve got a million things to say, but they all end up trapped in my throat.
His fingers entwine with mine and we walk into the arena. It’s so hot with all the bodies in here that most of the men are shirtless. Max strides down the passage towards the ring, pulling me along behind him. People yell or motion to communicate over the racket. When they see Max, they tend to duck out of his way, so even though the arena is hectic to all of my senses, the crowd parts for us and we move around seamlessly.
He stops at the front row and motions for me to sit alongside Stacey. Then he sits down beside me. I peer down the line of seats, past Xander, Clay, and Flick, to wave at Bronson, who makes a funny face at me. He’s such a child; I love it.
The final chair in the row is on the other side of Max. A middle-aged man sits down on it, his eyes trained on the ring. Max slides his hand down between my thighs, but doesn’t break eye contact from the commotion of people now ducking between the ropes.
A bell rings. I cross my thighs over each other, snuggling Max’s hand between them. The boxers are clearly identified by their gloves, waxed up faces, and the way they gnaw with anticipation on their mouth guards. They’re both Caucasians.
I lean towards Max. ‘Where are the Balinese competitors?’
‘This is heavy weight, little one.’
The speaker whines as it’s switched on. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the BBA championship round in Ubud, Indonesia. This event is brought to you by Storm Industries. This battle is sanctioned by the World Boxing Association and the Athletic Association Indonesia. Introducing our three judges: Mike Harley, Wayan Lempard, and all the way from the District, Australia, we have The Legend, Luca ‘The Butcher’ Butcher!’
My eyes widen and I turn to see the man on Max’s right raise his fist. The crowd goes mental – his name is chanted in adoration. So that’s Max’s dad. . . He would have been quite something when he was younger. Although he is still handsome, his nose has obviously taken more than a few hits and there is a scar under his left eye. It’s clear just by looking at him that he has lived a fierce existence.
‘The referee, the man in charge, is Tiuk Leyir. And now the moment we have all been waiting for – it’s go time! On the left, we have the challenger from Melbourne, Australia – Steven Garrad, weighing in at 96kg! And on the right, from the District, Australia, weighing in at 101kg, is the defending BBA Heavy Weight Champion, Drazic Marino!’
I wish I had earplugs as the cheering blisters my ears.
The bell rings again. The crowd falls deadly silent until the first step is taken by Garrad. Then the room fills as shouts, fierce orders, and cries of disappointment bounce off the walls. Max, Bronson, and Xander are on their feet, punching the air and yelling out to Drazic, ‘Set the pace! Arms up! Get up! Hold him!’
I watch in awe as the fighters throw their big bodies around in sharp, jerking motions. Their power comes from the surprise and weight behind them. It’s the opposite to everything I do as a ballerina.
My heart is racing with excitement. I’m suddenly caught up in the drama and the waves of emotions exploding from the crowd, the boys, and my own body. It’s a blood bath. I cover my eyes, but peek through my fingers because the intensity between Drazic and Steven is completely captivating. I don’t want to miss a second.
After several rounds full of splattering blood and heavy blows, Drazic is the last man standing. Facing the crowd, blood gushing from his split brow and fresh sweat pouring down his chest like rain, he chomps on his guard and raises his fist.
The audience detonates.
Max and the boys knock fists, Xander yelps with excitement and everyone starts to holler Drazic’s name.
‘Drazic! Drazic!’
As the fighters finally clear the stage, I’m still left staring at the ring. ‘Wow.’
Max studies my face, sliding his hand back down between my thighs. ‘You liked that?’
‘I feel bad saying I liked it.’ My cheeks pinch when I try to keep a straight face. ‘But yeah. I liked it. It was incredible watching their strength and resilience. And somehow, they’re still agile. And quick. . . despite all that bulk. . . It was really exciting.’
‘I didn’t expect you to say that.’
My smile is coy. ‘Why?’
‘Just thought you’d find it too violent.’
‘It was. I’d hate to see that outside of a controlled environment. I don’t like violence. But they’re both athletes, both up there willingly. So they know what they’re getting into.’
A satisfied grin stretches across his cheeks. ‘Very true.’
‘Why are you smiling at me like that?’
‘Dunno. . .’ His eyes roll around my face, amusement dancing in them. ‘Very few people surprise me. You, on the other hand, do it constantly.’
‘If you thought I’d find it too violent, why did you ask me to come with you?’
He considers my question for a moment. ‘Maybe I wanted to keep an eye on you.’
I smirk and lean towards him, using his own words. ‘Which part of me?’
He moistens his lips. ‘All your parts.’
‘Let’s go spend some money!’ Xander yells across to us.
A vein in Max’s neck bulges and he shoots a sideways glance at his little brother.
I peer down the line at Xander. ‘Why?’
Jumping to his feet, he rubs his palms together. ‘Because we just made a shitload!’
Luca pats his thighs once and slowly stands. ‘I’ll see you all at the restaurant. We’ll be having dinner together tonight, including you.’ He gestures to me and grins. I feel Max’s hand twitch between my crossed thighs. ‘I don’t know you, but I want to.’ Luca smiles down the line at his sons, but it’s thin and filled with mixed messages.
When he casually walks away, he has such a presence that people part ahead of him. He’s a big man. As tall as Max and just as built, but more tight-lipped. Everything about him is tight.
Stacey squeezes my knee and whispers, ‘Drazic is one of Jimmy’s boxers.’ She twists to eyeball Xander. ‘And Xander’s had too much to drink.’
