Chapter 5
Elara hadn't pegged him for the type to back down. She gave him a once-over, her eyes lingering on that chiseled jawline before hitting that fire-engine red tee. She bit down on her lip - stupid braces making her feel all kinds of awkward - and trudged off to the bus stop, feeling like a total Debbie Downer.
Ryker threw a casual glance over his shoulder, clocking the girl looking all kinds of deflated.
All this drama over some dental gear? Not his circus, not his monkeys. He shook his head, catching sight of Diana Draven stepping out. He straightened up, giving her a shout, "Hey, Mom! Over here!"
Diana strolled over, and Ryker jumped behind the wheel. As they rolled by the bus stop, he caught a glimpse of braces girl, now with some dude in a school jacket yapping away.
She's showing off her grill to him, face all blank. Classic.
Diana peered out the window, "What's got your attention?"
"Nada," Ryker pulled his gaze back, fingers drumming a beat on the wheel. Word on the street was Quentin Wallace had been scouting talent at the local high school, dangling a golden ticket to Avalon U in front of this kid Charlie Keane, along with a spot on the uni fight squad and a membership to the elite Celestial Fight Club.
At 17, Ryker Draven was already throwing down in the ring with the big dogs at Celestial Fight Club. When he landed his spot at Avalon, the head honcho Benjamin Hayes had been on the prowl, scooping up fighters like Luke Stone and Jack Young. But juggling school team fights and club brawls? These guys were running on fumes.
Benjamin Hayes cooked up a game plan - merge the uni boxing team with the club. Two birds, one stone. The suits at Avalon ate it up.
Slots for special recruits were like gold dust, and before Quentin pitched it to Charlie Keane, he'd done his homework. The kid's report card was decent - Avalon was a long shot, but some mid-tier college would take him.
The offer was candy to a baby for a boxing nut like Charlie, but the kid paused, then shut it down. Even Ryker didn't see that coming. Elara Keane and her brother Charlie were the ultimate hustlers. She was the brains, acing her exams like a boss, while he was all brawn, throwing punches in the ring to rake in the dough. Over summer, they were grinding hard, stashing cash like it was going out of style. Elara's orthodontic glow-up was in the bag, and their bank account swelled from a cool 120K to a sweet 150K. But even with their scrimping and saving, the big-ticket surgery remained just out of reach.
Elara had the gym on lock, patching up battered fighters by night and scoring herself a paycheck that wasn't just chump change. Two months in, and she was ballin' with a shiny new laptop and enough green to chill for a month.
But in their game, one slip could blow their cover. The underground gym was their dirty little secret, and it needed to stay that way.
One night, as they crept back to their crib, Elara tried to play it cool, slapping a cap on Charlie's head to keep it low-key. He'd taken some hits and came up empty-handed, no prize money to show for it. She was feeling the guilt, heavy on her heart. "Listen, big bro, you're hitting senior year. Hang up the gloves. I'll hustle with a side gig once uni kicks off," she urged him.
Charlie was quick to shut that down. "Nah, sis. You'll be buried in books. And hey, I'm not hating the fight life. I can take a few knocks."
Elara peeped the fire in his eyes and knew boxing wasn't just a hustle for him; it was love. "Fine, but you're done with that shady joint. Once you hit campus, there's legit competitions you can throw down in. But no more underground scraps, feel me?"
She didn't pull the boss card often, but when she did, Charlie listened. That's when their pops, Caspian, came at them with a roar that could shake the heavens. "What the hell are you two doing? Get your butts inside!"
Their spines snapped to attention. When Caspian included Elara in his rage, it meant the storm was rolling in hot.
Elara was all hushed tones and strategy. "Zip it when we're inside. I'll run point, okay?"
Charlie, usually the protector, just nodded. "Bet."
Midnight at the Keane residence was lit like a Christmas tree. The siblings stood in the living room, stiff as boards, ready to face the music. Charlie was on edge, prepared to jump in front of Elara if dad swung their way.
Caspian was on a warpath, hunting for his weapon of choice. He grabbed the belt, but nah, it was too hardcore. Flipped through an English dictionary, but damn, that'd leave a mark. He snatched up a pillow, only to chuck it aside - way too soft.
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Elara and Charlie? They were ready to face whatever came next, together. Charlie watched his dad do the anxiety tango across the living room, the tension thick enough to slice through. Grabbing the nearest broom like it was a peace offering, he extended it, "Yo, Pops, maybe this will do the trick. Take a swing?"
But Elara was having none of it, yanking the broom away and stashing it like a secret.
Caspian, all dad-fury, snatched it back from Elara, his eyes spitting fire. Not just at himself, but at his kids for sneaking around like they were starring in their own spy flick. He took a swing with the broom, but it was all bark and no bite.
Charlie barely felt a thing, but Elara, bless her heart, jumped in front like she was taking a bullet, "Dad, stop! Wanna hit someone? Make it me. I'm the ringleader here."
Charlie's protest was instant, "No way, it's not on her. I box because I love it, okay? It's my jam."
Caspian wasn't having it, though, and took another swipe, "Mouth still running, I see!" Even Elara got a piece of his mind, "You too, following your bro into this hot mess. What's up with that boxing joint? You're rolling home looking like you've been in a street fight, not a classroom!"
"Here's the deal: every time you hit that club, you're catching these hands!"
"As always..." Charlie, ducking and griping, got the stink-eye from Elara, her glare screaming, "Zip it, or we're both toast."
Lisette Keane, back from her graveyard shift, stumbled into the family circus. Parked at the doorway with a pounding head, she clocked the neighbor rubbernecking the drama.
"Sorry for the show," Elara tossed to the neighbor, slapping on a fake grin before slamming the door shut. Dirty laundry is for the laundry room, not the 'Gram.
Lisette was already clued in; two hours earlier, Elara's dad had blown up her phone with a mix of panic and peeve. She gave the sibs the once-over. Elara swore on everything holy that Charlie was done with the boxing gig, and Charlie, under duress, pinky-promised no more trouble or secret club rendezvous.
Come bedtime, Elara's dad was all sighs, "I'm the villain here, making life rough for the kiddos..."
Lisette matched his sigh but then a smirk crept in, "I couldn't stash a hundred grand in a year if I tried. Let it ride... They stepped up for you. Focus on the bounce-back, don't trash their hustle."
Dad's face was a storm cloud, the future looking all shades of grey with that looming surgery and the kidney donor roulette. Sleep was a joke that night.
*
Cut to mid-September, and boom - Elara Keane and Victoria Wells are Avalon University's newest med school hotshots. They rolled up to register, landed in the same class and dorm, and were buzzing like it was Christmas.
Charlie played pack mule for Elara's move-in day.
Roomie Sylvia Linden, all casual, hit Elara with a, "He your man or what?" Elara's braces transformed her smile into a metallic riddle, setting her worlds apart from her brother, Charlie. They were an odd pair to the untrained eye, and the assumption that they were more than siblings was a frequent faux pas. Victoria Wells, with her signature cackle, didn't miss a beat. "Nope, he's all mine," she declared, clutching her sides.
Crimson crept up Charlie's cheeks, his hands instinctively rising to camouflage his mortification.
Elara rolled her eyes, her voice laced with amused exasperation, "Please, he's just the kid brother."
Sylvia appraised Charlie with a discerning gaze before leaning towards Elara, her voice dipped in honey, "Your bro's a total snack, though."
Elara couldn't help but beam with pride. "Tell me something I don't know."
Megan Johns, their other roomate from a different major, rounded out their little crew. They swapped digits and insta handles, promising to hit each other up. Elara, ever the worrier, made a mental note to master their faces, lest she snub them in passing.
In the hustle of academia, Elara hustled on the side, sharing her passion for the arts with kids. A pencil had been her companion long before her textbooks, and even though life had forced her hand away from the canvas, the itch to create never left her. She flexed those artistic muscles over summer, and now, imparting her knowledge to the younglings was a piece of cake.
Cue the end of October, with the university's sports event looming. Elara and Victoria hit the track for a run, only to stumble upon Ryker Draven, the human embodiment of a red alert. He was a vision in his crimson baseball jacket, its emblem a blast from Elara's dental clinic memory. Red suited him, highlighting his chiseled features and the military precision of his haircut. He was a storm of charisma and charm, a stark contrast to the stadium's mundane backdrop.
Inside, Elara was mid-stretch when Ryker's gaze collided with hers. His eyebrow quirked up, a silent conversation in the making.
Caught off guard, Elara's tongue toyed with her braces, her eyes darting away, feigning indifference.
Quentin squinted from Elara to Ryker. "You know her?"
Ryker's smile had a history. "Kinda. Remember the chick from the fight club night?"
Quentin's memory clicked. "Oh, right. Charlie's girlfriend? Some twisted family affair at Avalon U?"
Ryker stuffed his hands into his pockets, a casual move before he spun around. "Hey, Coach, still got your eye on Charlie for the team?"
Quentin exhaled a storm of frustration. "That kid's ghosted the underground scene. I've hit up Crestview High, like, twice. Kid's got interest, sure, but he's playing hard to get."
Ryker shot Elara a look that was all casual swagger, "Why don't you hit her up? Maybe she's got the magic touch to get Charlie on board."
Quentin, with a smirk, shot back, "Man, I've tried every angle with that dude, and it's a no-go. Even if she's his girl, what's a little thing like her gonna do? Work some pixie dust on him?"
Ryker's lips quirked up, "Trust me, she's got that vibe - can charm the pants off anyone."
Author's juicy gossip:
Ryker Draven: She's got that charm that makes you wanna do more than just talk.
Charlie: Feeling the burn, are we?
Elara Keane: ...
That's right, our mystery hunk Ryker Draven's about to get a name drop! And just wait till Charlie gets in on the action - it's gonna be a riot! Get ready for the feels and thrills, babes!
"Cliffhanger Alert: Elara Keane's got charm for days."
And about Elara's pearly whites? Post-braces, they're like little daggers of cuteness. No stress, loves - braces ain't stopping no kisses. Let our boy Ryker get his lips all scratched up by those wires, making out till he's tasting blood like he's gone ten rounds in the ring, and he's still gonna call it the sweetest pain. That's the tea!
