Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Elara stashed Charlie's bandages, swung her backpack over her shoulder, ready to take 'em home for a scrub. She let her eyes drift over the crowd, and bam, they landed on this dude - nah, scratch that - young stud in a fire engine red baseball jacket. Dude was barely hitting twenties, with a haircut that did his chiseled features all kinds of justice, giving him that fresh-off-the-press vibe, all youth and swagger. Elara couldn't remember the last time she saw a guy rock red like that, with a vibe that screamed low-key but still turned up. Since she never peeped his face before, she didn't clock him as the boxer who laid Charlie out, and even if she had, she might not have kept it locked... Their eyes locked for a hot three seconds, and Elara, feeling her cheeks heat up, ducked her head and zipped up her bag. Outta nowhere, Charlie clutched his face, howling like he was in a horror flick, "Ahhh! I'm looking like a busted-up pork chop! How the hell am I supposed to show my face?" Elara jumped, turning to her drama king of a brother, giving him the deadpan treatment, "Come on. We're hitting the subway." Charlie's wails hit a new octave, "And then I'll catch a beatdown at home too!" Ryker Draven: "..." He took a sec to check himself and figured he'd already gone easy on the guy in the ring. As the place cleared out and the last of the crowd started to bounce, a few thirsty girls still hung back, eyeing Ryker like he was a tall glass of water on a scorching day. Ryker's eyes skimmed over them without a flicker of interest, his stride confident as he moved towards the back of the stands. Benjamin Hayes and Quentin Wallace were chilling in their spots, eyes glued to the center of the ring. Benjamin threw out a jab, "We letting in folks who are all about that early romance game now?" Quentin flashed a grin, "Who said anything about puppy love?"Benjamin let out a low, amused chuckle, the kind that rumbled deep from his chest. "Just spitballing here, but those two? They're vibing like they've got their own private little universe. And look at 'em - she's playing nurse to his bruised ego. Classic opposites attract scenario." He shot a glance at Ryker Draven, the latest arrival to the convo, and switched gears with a smirk. "What's up, slowpoke? You hit up the ATM for your victory cash?" Ryker Draven, all casual swagger, snagged his bag from the seat and slung it over his shoulder, his eyes flicking over to the guy still throwing a tantrum like a toddler denied candy. Then, his gaze snagged on a girl who was all legs and midriff - a slice of temptation with skin that made the moon look tan, and eyes that could start a forest fire. She was doling out comfort to her boy toy with a softness that made Ryker's insides twist. But damn, being that dude's girl? Must be like a full-time gig. Who needs a chick to play the soothing playlist on repeat? He scoffed to himself. "That prize money? You want it, you chase it. I fought under your banner, bro." He was about to shift his gaze when the girl cracked a smile, flashing these tiny, pointed canines that were all kinds of intriguing. Ryker blinked, caught off guard. But then she clamped her mouth shut, like she was self-conscious about those little fangs. Curious. Benjamin shot him a look that was anything but amused. They were tighter than the last pair of jeans at a sample sale, having grown up together. Benjamin was Ryker's senior by a trio of years, and they'd both been knee-deep in martial arts since they were ankle-biters. Ryker was gunning for the pro leagues, but he had to dance in the amateur spotlight until he snagged that diploma - grandpa's orders. Benjamin was the brains running Titan Boxing Club, thanks to the family dough. So yeah, they were both punching their way through the same scene. Imagine the memes if the streets knew that the brains behind Titan Boxing Club was throwing down in some back-alley brawl for chump change. The socials would have a field day. Ryker played it cool, eyes on Quentin. "You not gonna scout the kid?" Quentin chewed over the idea. Charlie Keane had skills but was green around the edges, and he was juggling high school with underground brawls - not your typical athlete's resume. Recruiting him now? Would be like trying to catch smoke. Quentin squinted at Ryker. "So, what's the 411 on him in the ring?" Ryker pondered a beat. "Kid's got brains, snappy reflexes, and he's a quick study. Even tried to mirror my moves. But the guy's packing noodles for arms... No biggie, though. A little gym time, and he'll be solid." Quentin chuckled, a sound that was all knowing, and then realized the duo had ghosted from the ring. He hadn't even clocked their exit. With a wry grin, he said, "Let's bounce. It's late, and we've got his deets - he's a Crestview High Schooler. Dude can't exactly fall off the grid."Ryker rolled up to Quentin's hood, the engine of his ride purring like some sleek, predatory cat. The night was young, the air was buzzing with the promise of adventure. Ryker, the designated driver, was stone-cold sober, his eyes sharp, his senses on high alert. Quentin was riding shotgun, his thoughts a jumble of could-be's and might-have's, while Benjamin, always the instigator, suggested a detour to the club where the lights danced and the night was always alive. "Yo, there's a bash at the club tonight, you in?" Benjamin threw the invite into the air like a challenge. Ryker shrugged, the picture of cool indifference, while Quentin, ever on the hunt for that next big thrill, tossed in his lot. "Hell yeah, let's crash that party." ... The clock struck twelve, and the city breathed in the witching hour. Elara Keane and her brother Charlie Keane stumbled back to their apartment, the night's escapades a heavy weight on their shoulders. The apartment lights glared accusingly at them, a sure sign their folks were up waiting, ready to drop the hammer. "Sis, you gotta have my back," Charlie mumbled, dread lacing his voice. Elara gave him a nod, the silent pact sealed. "Got you, bro." Charlie groaned, visions of the prize money he'd missed out on flashing behind his eyes. "Man, if I'd snagged that cash, I'd take the heat no problem. But now? It's like walking into a double smackdown." Little did they know that Ryker had left a stack of cash behind at the club, a small fortune they never saw coming. As they braced themselves to face the music, Elara could only offer a weary comfort. "Quit trippin', Charlie. Hit the hay and dream of better days. You've got the grind tomorrow." Charlie slumped against her, his voice a whine. "Sis, I'm spinning... cover me..." Elara: "...I will." The door creaked open, and there they were - Mr. and Mrs. Keane, planted on the couch like two judges presiding over the court of parental law. Earlier, Elara had dropped a line, warning them they'd be late. But here they were, waiting, their expressions grim as gravestones. Charlie, head hung low, shuffled in and made a beeline for his room. "Night, Mom and Dad. Don't stress, alright?..." "Boy, you better show your face!" The roar from Mr. Keane was like a thunderclap. Charlie bolted, his feet barely touching ground, as words and anger chased him down the hall. "If you don't respect me as your pops, then keep running!" Charlie tripped, his heart in his throat, as he spun around to face the music. His dad, Caspian, was on his feet, rage written in every line of his body. Elara, looking like she'd gone a few rounds with a heavyweight, and Lisette, her mom, their eyes locked on him. The sight of her brother's battered face was enough to send his dad into orbit. The English dictionary took flight, a missile of fatherly fury. Charlie ducked, the book whizzing past, and he straightened up, ready to play the penitent son. Diana finally snapped, her voice a whipcrack. "What are you doing? You're gonna give yourself a heart attack! You wanna check out and leave us behind?"Elara, heart racing, latched onto her dad with a mix of sass and concern, "Pops, chill out, will ya? You've got that dialysis date with destiny tomorrow. You need your beauty sleep." Her old man had been wrestling with uremia for a hot minute, hooked up to a machine every other day, playing the waiting game for a kidney match. Those dialysis dances weren't cheap. They'd been bleeding the family funds dry. To top it off, the health drama got him booted from his gig when the company decided to 'optimize' and be 'Strategic'. Gone the health insurance. The Keanes weren't exactly living large, but when sickness slammed into them, the budget belt had to be tightened. Charlie had to kiss his kick-ass fighting classes goodbye, and Elara had to pack away her paintbrushes and easels. The cash crunch was real. But hey, they weren't the types to throw a pity party. Still, their dad was carrying a truckload of guilt, and it was making him crankier than a bear with a sore paw. He jabbed a finger at Charlie's shiner and went off, "Spill it. You been rolling with the wrong crowd? Playing Casanova and brawling over some girl?" Elara was floored. Had her dad been binging too much teen soap opera? Charlie was all shades of confused and red-faced as he blurted out, "No way! I'm clean, I swear!" Dad's temper was hitting the roof, hand reared back to deliver some old-school discipline. Charlie was already spinning from the day; he didn't need a headshot from Dad to finish him off! Elara, with a quick sidestep, shoved Dad back and booted Charlie's butt, "Curfew's a thing, bro. Hit the books, or you're pulling an all-nighter. I'll be checking in post-shower." Charlie bolted to his room, shooting puppy dog eyes at Dad, "Elara's got me on a homework lockdown. Gotta do it, okay?" Dad, gasping for air like he'd run a marathon, turned to Elara with a mix of worry and frustration, "Babe, you've got that monster test to crush for Avalon U's med school. How you gonna ace it if you're playing superhero for your bro? You were out hunting him down tonight, weren't you?" Elara, playing peacemaker, reassured him with a confident smile, "I've got my study game on lock. Those exams are gonna be a cakewalk." Mom, ever the voice of reason, stepped in, "Take a breather, hon. It's snooze o'clock. We've got an early rise for the hospital." And with that, the storm in the Keane household dialed down, leaving the night to do what it does best - whisper promises of a fresh start come morning.The tension in the air finally fizzled out as Elara's dad, with a huff that could rival a steam engine, let himself be herded back to the sanctity of the master bedroom by her mom. But not without throwing one last death stare over his shoulder that could've cut glass. "What are you eyeballing, kiddo? Hit the books! Your sis will be giving it the once-over in sixty, got it?" Charlie just slouched, the fight gone out of him, his voice a tired drag, "Yeah, yeah." ... The house took a chill pill and things quieted down after the family drama. Elara, fresh from her shower, stumbled upon Charlie actually knuckling down on his homework. She sidled up to him right as he was wrestling with an Spanish essay. She couldn't help but point out, "Dude, you butchered this word. It's got an 'S' at the tail end, not an 'R.'" Charlie tossed her a distracted "Oh," scrawled the correction with his chicken scratch handwriting. Elara tousled his hair, "Head still spinning?" Charlie shrugged it off, patting his belly, "Nah, just starving." "I'll snag you some grub," Elara offered, making a beeline to the kitchen. She came back with a peace offering of peanut butter sandwich and milk, dumping them on his desk. "Chow down." Charlie chewed on that for a second, then hit her with the big eyes, "Hey, Sis, you can ditch the chauffeur gig for my matches. Pops has a point. Your big brain needs to ace those exams. What if I'm cramping your style?" Elara's gaze softened, "That's not even up for debate. If I bail, you're benched. End of." The mere thought of him alone out there gave her the heebie-jeebies. Charlie balked, "How's that fair? We're still hustling for Dad's surgery cash. If his number's up in the next couple years, we might have to hawk the house." "We're sitting on a cool hundred and twenty grand," Elara beamed at him. "You're crushing it." The kid lit up like a Christmas tree, "You know it." Elara's heart melted a smidge, and she cracked a grin, helping him neaten up his workspace, "Devour that food. I'll knock out your homework. Hit the sack early, yeah?" Charlie's jaw hit the floor, and before he could even wrap his head around it, Elara had swiped his backpack and was halfway out the door, even giving it a soft click shut behind her. This was a first, and Charlie couldn't help but grin like a loon, "Sis love for the win..." Ever since Charlie had his brawl with Ryker Draven, he'd ghosted the underground boxing scene to keep Elara's study vibe zen. Then came a lazy Saturday in May, him vegging out on the couch, flicking through channels, when he landed on a local station airing a boxing match. The Avalon University squad was duking it out, and the light heavyweight division was up. He perked up like a meerkat, eyes glued to the screen, and then - no freaking way. Isn't that Benjamin Hayes?! Without missing a beat, he hollered, "Sis! Sis! Get your butt over here! That dude who threw down with me is throwing punches on TV!" Elara, knee-deep in calculus or some such, didn't even bat an eyelash, "Meh." Charlie wasn't having it, "C'mon, make tracks and see! He's an Avalon boy too. Don't go falling for him later on campus just 'cause you didn't ID him when you had the chance."Elara Keane rooled her eyes - never gonna happen. But then, Charlie's voice sliced through the chaos, insistent and impossible to ignore. With a sigh, she laid her pen aside and made her way over to him, curiosity piqued. The boxing match blared from the TV, raw and unfiltered, minus the usual play-by-play. The host was hyping up someone called "Ryker The Ace", must be the figure in white shorts next to 'Benjamin', thought Elara. "Peep this, Elara. Burn his face into your brain," Charlie urged, his eyes glued to the screen. With a reluctant shuffle, Elara plopped down beside him, her eyes narrowing as she studied the match. Thanks to her brother's obsession, she'd found herself sucked into the world of boxing. She'd missed the match where this 'Benjamin Hayes' had gone toe-to-toe with Charlie, and though her brother played it cool, she'd caught the undercurrents of respect in his voice when he spoke of the guy. "Yeah, I got it," she muttered, though she wasn't all that confident. Charlie shot her a skeptical look. "For real? You gotta eyeball him for a solid five before it sticks, sis." He knew her all too well - Elara was notorious for her face-blindness, always mixing up his pals and classmates. Her gaze lingered on the chiseled fighter throwing jabs like they were going out of style. "He's easy on the eyes, which makes it a breeze to remember," she mumbled, more to herself than to Charlie. Charlie's response was an abrupt silence. Elara figured he was miffed she couldn't pinpoint his rival, and she turned to him, eager to smooth things over. "Benjamin Hayes, right? Buzz cut, those intense eyes, a fan of the color red - I've got it locked down." Charlie looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "If you remember, you remember. No need to lay it on thick, Elara." Elara: "..." Author's note: OMG, can you believe I spaced on scheduling this after dropping it in the draft box? #AuthorLife. Charlie: Yo, Sis! That's the dude who duked it out with me! Ring any bells? Elara: Benjamin Hayes. Check. Eye candy. Ryker Draven: ... "Today's hot take: You don't need to play sweet talker to snag The Ace." Gotta love this sibling drama - it's like a live show with Elara snagging the best actress award. Charlie's a total ray of sunshine, and trust me, you'll fall for him. I've been saying it - this story's packed with adorbs characters, and don't get me started on the fam vibes. We're about to dive into the college scene, and it's gonna be a clash-fest!