“Excuse me for a moment,” I say as I get up to stand, but before I can leave, a hand lands on my forearm.

“Now, wait a minute,” Vic says with a saccharine sweet smile. “He’s a grown up. If he wants to play, he can play. He doesn’t need his mama telling on him.”

There’s a serious undercurrent in his tone, and I sit back down, feeling suddenly a little more nervous than I was a moment ago. Vic may put on a sweet face for me, but I’m willing to bet he has a lot of money riding on these fights, and if I get in the way of that, he could lose his good disposition.

Suddenly, I pick up all the chatter around me. I can’t find his face across the crowd anymore. All I can think is that if he gets one bad punch to the head, he could be riding out of here in an ambulance. Does Vic even let the ambulance come out here? What happens when someone gets seriously hurt? He says it doesn’t happen, but I’m not buying it.

Now, I wish more than anything I was back in my apartment and that I hadn't come out at all.

Just then, a man in the center of the circle starts speaking loud enough for the crowd to quiet down. I spot a man off to the left. He’s a younger man with blonde haired slicked back and sculpted shoulders. I bet he could throw a punch strong enough to knock someone out.

On the other side of the circle, I spot Rafe. He’s shirtless, and I’m surprised to see that he is also heavily sculpted, thick cords of muscle cascading down his chest. He has black tattoos across his chest and back that are too far away and too intricate to make out from here. He didn’t have those back in Newport, and I get lost for a moment just staring at his body. He’s wrapping his hand in gauze, sizing up his competition with a blank, cold expression.

Holy shit. That look in his eyes says he’s ready to kill someone. Jesus, I hope no one actually dies out here.

The announcer calls some arbitrary rules and taps each guy's shoulder. The whole thing feels so rushed, and by the way the crowd goes wild, I can tell these spectators just want fighting, as much and as fast as they can get it.

“Best seats in the house,” Vic says into my ear. We’re sitting on a deck a couple feet off the ground giving us a good view over everyone else’s heads.

Within the first ten seconds of the fight, the opponent throws a punch toward Rafe’s head, which makes me scream. Rafe dodges the throw easily and lands a quick jab to the other guy's cheek.

At first, I hate it. The sound of their bare fists hitting each other’s faces is awful, but then the crowd yells and the adrenaline kicks, which I can imagine is even more intense for the fighters.