He was enticing in every way. The way his body moved swiftly around the ring as I watched him from behind the bar. He was the best. And the best never loses.
When Blake Anderson gets a job as a bartender at the local fight club, Chargers, she meets...
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For fuck's sake.
The fact that I have a mysterious message with an unknown meaning written on my bathroom mirror in blood red lipstick, honestly just pisses me off.
Of fucking course I can't catch a break.
I stand in my bathroom dumbfounded. My mouth dropped in shock and my heart on the floor. My hands are pressed against the mirror while I stare so hard into my reflection that is interrupted by lipstick.
It's honestly rude of them. Now I can't stare at my wonderful self.
Kidding... Maybe.
I never touch the writing on my mirror. I leave every part of the lipstick undisturbed. Almost like I'm scared touching it will make me blow up.
Just like I'm terrified every time I pull away from the gas station that my car will blow up.
No? Just me? Okay.
Get your ADHD together, H.
I stare at the message for long enough, trying to decipher the meaning of everything.
"Welcome to Wonderland." I whisper out loud to myself, cocking my head to the side in question.
Wonderland, a wonderful land.
It made no sense.
My face and brain draw blanks while I rack my brain for anything and everything that could mean wonderland.
won•der•land /wander-land/ noun a land or place full of wonderful things.
I'm getting the feeling whoever fucking broke it my damn house and wrote this on my mirror wasn't fucking talking about the place where Alice followed the rabbit.
So does that mean there is no cheshire cat?
This was bad and whoever accessed my apartment just sealed their fate. This was a complete violation of privacy and it was honestly terrifying. What if I had decided to bring Blake here? What then?
Except I've never brought her here.
I needed a new place and I needed one soon. I'd move in and tell no one my address, maybe avoid a bit of conflict for a while before they saw my bank transfers and new billing addresses.
Maybe the security footage to the apartment complex had something and we didn't know.
I pull out my phone quickly, dialing Grant.
He answers the phone in no time.
"What's up, H?" His voice rings through the phone and I breathe a sigh of relief. I mean at least he isn't dead.
