Chapter 6
"How'd you clock that?" Quentin's eyes popped with surprise. The girl had just finished her stretches and was bouncing off with a buddy. Nearby was a gate leading to one of Avalon U's food joints - looked like grub time.
Ryker's eyes lingered on her retreating form, that memory of her taming wild Charlie with just a look, and figured, who could say no to that? Especially a firecracker like Charlie. As she almost vanished from sight, he tossed his head, "So, what's the play? We gonna holler at her?"
But damn, what was her name again?
Quentin chuckled, "Easy tiger. Let's not spook her. I slid Charlie my card; he'll buzz me if he's down." Quentin was juggling hot prospects and figured he could put Charlie on the back burner.
Boxing's not just about the brawn; it's about the fire in your belly and the beat of your heart.
If Charlie didn't have that spark, then even if Ryker snagged him for the team, it'd be a dead end.
Ryker got the message, flashed a half-grin, and let it be.
Meanwhile, Victoria Wells couldn't help craning her neck, peeking back at him, and finally nudged Elara Keane, "You know that stud in the crimson varsity jacket?"
Calling Ryker a boy didn't cut it - he was a full-on, testosterone-fueled man. That buzz cut, those chiseled features, and that build screamed 'grown and sexy' - a young man in full bloom.Elara Keane's mind was spinning faster than her Instagram feed on a Friday night. The dude was like a walking thirst trap, and she couldn't shake the feeling she'd swiped past his face before. "He's got that whole mysterious boxer vibe, doesn't he?" she mused to Victoria, who was practically drooling at the thought of finding his dating profile.
"Girl, I'm not just looking him up, I'm practically cyber-stalking at this point," Victoria cackled, thumbs flying over her phone as she hit up every corner of the web, from the campus gossip threads to the deep dives of athlete stats. "Benjamin Hayes, prepare to be Insta-stalked."
Elara rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're hopeless, Vic."
But, no dice. Benjamin Hayes was like a ghost, his digital footprint as elusive as a perfect Tinder match. "Dude's like a ninja," Sylvia chimed in, shrugging as she came up empty on her own search. "Maybe he's a vampire. You know, no reflection, no social media presence..."
"He's no vampire," Elara shot back. "He's real alright. Saw him with my own two eyes, rocking that red jacket like it's his job."
The weekend brought her back to the fam, and as she navigated the urban jungle from campus to her front door, she couldn't shake images of Red Jacket from her head. Charlie's room was a disaster zone, but she was the bomb squad, ready to diffuse the chaos. Sorting through the mess, she was part Marie Kondo, part Sherlock Holmes.
And then, bam, the clue that cracked the case wide open. A card, hidden like a secret message in a bottle, tucked under a mountain of textbooks. Quentin Wallace, coach of the Celestial Fight Club. The same logo that haunted her, now staring back at her from a business card with intent.
Elara bit her lip, a habit when the gears in her head were turning. Celestial Fight Club was legit, the kind of place that turned nobodies into somebodies, with fists and grit. And they wanted her brother?
She remembered. At the Celestial Fight Club, it wasn't until the heavyweight champ, a beast of a man, got scouted and jetted off to the big leagues that Charlie started raking in the cash. The prize money became his, fight after fight.
Elara Keane, Charlie's sis and partner-in-crime, had the scoop on everything - except this one. Flipping the business card between her fingers, she couldn't fathom why her bro kept this one under wraps. They were tighter than a pair of skinny jeans; secrets just didn't fit.
The minute Charlie stumbled through the door, post-study grind, Elara cornered him. Business card flicking in the air like a TikTok challenge, she was all, "Spill it, bro. Why you ghosting on this golden ticket?"
Charlie dropped into his chair, his face the picture of 'busted'. Running a hand through his hair, he mumbled, "Don't wanna bounce, you know? Senior year's got me on lockdown, and ain't everyone been preaching 'bout hitting the books?"
Elara let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "And the coach? What's the word? Can you throw down after finals?"
"...Maybe?" Charlie was all half-truths, the kind that didn't sit right.
She shot him the side-eye, her BS detector on full alert. "Real talk, Charlie, or I'm hitting mute on you for life."
Charlie was a textbook case of stubborn, flopping onto his bed like a sulky teen, "For real, I ain't into it. I just wanna keep it low-key at the gym, snag some pocket change. Boxing ain't my forever gig..."
Elara's heart did a weird little flip-flop - Charlie unsure about his future was a new plot twist. She tossed his backpack at him, a silent 'get over it', and snagged the business card. His eyes followed the card, a silent plea, but his lips stayed sealed.
Dawn cracked, and there was Charlie, shadow boxing on the balcony like it was his personal dojo. No ring, no gloves, just him and the sunrise. Elara watched, a silent cheerleader, before diving into her morning routine.
With a yank and a "Let's roll," she had Charlie out the door, his confusion cute but totally ignored. When he clocked they were at Celestial Fight Club, his world went full stop - Charlie was all, "Sis, pump the brakes, this ain't my scene..."
The place was legit, no rinky-dink gym. Peering inside was like scrolling through the 'gram - everyone looked fierce. Elara tossed him a look, half-smirk, half-dare, "Just scoping the scene."
She strutted toward the entrance, Charlie's protests a distant echo. He hesitated, curiosity winning out. With a head scratch and a deep breath, he followed her into the unknown.Charlie swaggered in, his sister Elara trailing behind like a shadow with sass. Just as they hit the lobby, Quentin Wallace scooted over, all grins and charm. "Yo, Charlie my man, you finally got your head straight and decided to join the cool kids at Avalon U?"
Elara, sizing up the dude with a smirk, couldn't help but clock his dad-bod vibes - not tall, but buzzing with that coach energy. She swiveled back to Charlie, who mumbled, "Meet the Coach," like he was dropping a hot potato.
"Hey there, Coach Wallace," Elara tossed him a half-smile, all casual-like.
Quentin, mistaking Elara for the persuasive type, gave her a nod of approval. "Ryker Draven wasn't kidding - you're something else."
Elara's brows knitted. "Ryker who now?"
With a chuckle, Quentin turned back to Charlie, clapping him on the back like he'd scored the winning touchdown. "Ain't it lit, getting the VIP pass to Avalon? Gonna be hitting the books with your girl and all."
Charlie's face went blank. "Uh..."
Elara, deadpan, added, "He's my brother. Like, from the same parents."
Quentin facepalmed, a sheepish laugh escaping him. "Oh, snap! Siblings? My bad, you two don't exactly scream family resemblance."
Charlie, pointing at Elara, "This is my sis, Elara Keane."
The convo swerved to special admissions and Avalon secrets, with Elara raising an eyebrow. "Hold up, special what now?"
Quentin shot her a puzzled look. "You didn't get the memo?"
Charlie, cornered, spilled the beans in a whisper.
Quentin, thinking he'd won Charlie over, suggested a tour with a tap on the shoulder. "Let's roll. Avalon's a one-way ticket to the big leagues. I've been hyping you up about the connection between our club and the uni team, right? The USABC's your golden ticket - Olympics, pro careers... it's where dreams get real, kid."
As Quentin laid down his pitch, they wandered through the gym - a real knockout with its rings and gear. Charlie's eyes sparkled with every punchbag and weight rack.
Elara chewed on her lip. She totally gets Charlie's concern. Their dad's in the middle of dialysis and it's a toss-up how long he'll last. Eventually, he'll need a new kidney. When it comes to family who could be a match, apart from their uncle, Charlie's the only other option.
Sighing, she almost collided with a guy exiting a training room. A glance through the cracked door, and there he was - Benjamin Hayes, Avalon's own Adonis, doing pull-ups like it was nothing.
Elara's eyes did a double-take. His face rang a bell, and the rest of him... well, it was hard to ignore. Decked out in fiery red shorts, his upper half was all skin and sinew, muscles dancing under the strain. Sweat dripped down his neck, catching the light, his whole body a showcase of strength and discipline.
Something about him seemed different since their last meet-up. He looked buffer, more ripped. Elara couldn't shake off the feeling that if she gave his muscles a poke, they'd be rock-solid.
As Charlie got whisked away by Quentin, a lightbulb moment hit Elara, stopping her dead in her tracks at the door.
The minute she hovered at the door, Ryker's gaze snagged her. He squinted his eyes, breaths deep and rhythmic until he hit the big two-oh-oh on his reps and hopped down from the pull-up bar like some kind of avenging angel in sweatpants.
Elara Keane spotted Ryker Draven taking a breather and made her move.
As Ryker caught her eye, he was all casual swagger, snagged a towel, gave himself a quick rubdown, and then shrugged into a red baseball jacket like it was NBD.
She didn't expect an audience, though. The other guy in the room was giving off serious jungle vibes, like a modern-day Tarzan on a protein shake high. She hesitated, feeling awkward about asking a favor from strangers.
When Tarzan let out a laugh that sounded more like a hyena on helium, Elara's skin went full-on braille mode.
Ryker, unfazed by the wildlife, zipped up his jacket and booted his laughing buddy with a quip, clearly the alpha of this gym jungle.
Luke Stone, the human laugh track, clocked Elara then, giving her the once-over. Her curls tumbled over her shoulders, framing a face that was a blend of innocence and intrigue. Her eyes, dark and luminous, seemed to hold a universe of stories, though her mouth set in a peculiar way. Despite this, her beauty was undeniable.
With a grin, Luke teased, "Hey Miss, who are you here for?"
He shot Ryker Draven a knowing look. Another girl smitten with Ryker? The guy was like a magnet.
Ryker, ever the cool cat, lounged against the equipment, his gaze lazily settling on her. "Looking for me?" he asked with a casual smile.
Elara Keane, that was her name, nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, spill it. What's up?"
Ryker grabbed a water bottle, curiosity piqued. Why was this girl here? What could she want from him?
Elara bit her lip, her words tumbling out. "That... Benjamin Hayes, can I ask you for a favor..."
"Hold up," Ryker interrupted, mid-sip. He eyed her intensely. "Just to clear things up, I'm not Benjamin Hayes."
"Ah?" Elara blinked, confusion written all over her face. Had she mistaken the person?
Luke chimed in, bemused. "Did you just call him Benjamin Hayes?"
Was she mixing up faces, or just boldly chasing without knowing the name?
Elara's confusion deepened as she looked back at Ryker. "Isn't that right?"
The host had announced him as Benjamin Hayes that night, but Elara knew her memory wasn't playing tricks. Charlie wouldn't goof up; he'd said the name a million times.
Ryker Draven watched her confusion with a hint of amusement, unbothered by his alias. "Nope, definitely not my name," he said with a casual shrug.
Elara's brow furrowed. "Then who are you?"
Ryker stood up, a smirk playing on his lips. "The name's Ryker Draven."
Elara paused, processing. "So, Benjamin Hayes? A fake name?"
"That's our club's investor," Ryker clarified.
Luke chimed in, "The big boss, yep."
Elara fell silent, her mind racing.
[Behind the scenes note from the author]:
Ryker Draven: Remember the name, sweetheart. Ryker Draven.
Elara Keane: ...Got it, loud and clear.
"Chapter's hot gossip: Elara Keane finally puts a name to The Ace's face!"
