Loving Kinnick

Fuck What Her Father Says

I insisted on walking around the puddles, but Bo found it necessary to yell 'cannonball' and jump right into the ankle-deep rainwater, splashing not only herself but me. She wore a pair of yellow rain boots, matching it with the yellow hoodie I left her in after the party last week. Her curls were tied into a bun on the top of her head, but that didn't stop the rainwater from getting in her hair.

She wanted to know why I walked her home as opposed to driving. I told her it was simple. I wanted to spend more time with her. Rather it is walking her home while it misted piercing needles or holding her hostage in my truck until her dad said it was okay for us to be around one another. And number two wasn't an option, so she will have to deal with option one.

Fuck what her father says, anyway.

"When is your next fight?" She stomped into a puddle of mud, cringing at the way it caked at the bottom of her feet.

I glanced down at her. "Eager, are we?"

"Yeah," she peered up at me like I grew three heads. "I like watching you. You deserve to headline Vegas! Like Conor McGregor, and Floyd Mayweather!"

"You've been doing research," I cocked a brow.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. I didn't know how much I liked fighting until I watched you do it."

"Is that so?"

"As long as you're fighting, I will come to every match."

I've never felt the need to have someone ringside cheering me on because I had plenty, and there was nothing special about it. But there was something about Bo and the way she fist-bumped me after I won that made me ache for her to accompany me as I fought in the ring.

She didn't need to tell me she was my number one fan, I could tell by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about my fight. Sure, people show interest in my talent because they don't want me to beat their ass. But the curly-haired girl stared at me with adoration, and I felt something in my shift as she halted in the middle of a puddle, shoving her pinky finger towards me.

"What is this?"

"We've been over this already," she sighed. "I'm pinky promising you. I'll be ringside at every fight. If you don't want me there, tell me because I'm not going to hold out my pinky all day and look like an idiot."

I let a laugh rumble through my chest. My arm extended over the puddle she stood in and linked my pinky with hers. My body fell forward when she tightened her grip on my finger and yanked me forward.

"Seriously?" I stared down at my boots as the water swallowed them.

Her dimpled grin looked at me with innocence. "You looked like you wanted to join me."

"I didn't," I state. "That's why I've been avoiding the puddles."

"Not true," she tsked. "You're avoiding the puddles just in case someone looks out their window and sees the notorious Kinnick Carson splashing around and having fun."

"Why do you think I'd care what they thought?"

"I know you do," she frowned. "Or you wouldn't act the way you do."

"And how do you think I act?"

"Like nothing bothers you."

"It doesn't."

I looked at her face, letting my eyes run over the countless spots of mud that covered her cheeks as if they were freckles.

"Then why do you walk me home every day? Don't get me wrong, I like you, but if nothing bothers you, it wouldn't matter if something happened to me. Right?"