Vi Keeland - Worth the Chance

“Hey.” I walk over to the bar and greet Vinny. He stands and kisses me on the cheek, one hand on my hip, quickly forgetting the conversation he was in the midst of. His strong grip on me sends goosebumps racing and a tingle washes over my skin. I almost jump back at the power with which it hits me. Damn, I need to keep some physical distance from this man. I smile politely at the waiting bartender, but she shoots me a nasty look when Vinny leads us away without so much as a glance back at her.

We’re seated in a booth off to the back of the restaurant. It’s quiet, perfect for an interview. Although not an easy task, I force my thoughts back to business. But instead of sitting on the other side of the booth, Vinny settles in beside me, his arm casually draped around the back of the wide seat.

I’ve sometimes seen couples sitting beside each other in a booth and thought it looked odd. It just seems more natural to have a conversation sitting across from someone. Only now do I see what the appeal is. It’s intimate, allowing low spoken conversations and innocent brushes from the close proximity. But sitting this close to Vinny makes me flustered. I’m also seated on the inside, against the wall. It makes me feel cornered somehow, and it pisses me off that my body seems to like it, regardless of what my brain is telling me.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable over there?” I point to the other side of the table.

“No. I like it here. Does it bother you?” he says, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Not at all, it’s fine,” I lie.

Vinny twists at the waist and pulls one knee up on the seat so he’s facing me. He’s dressed in low hanging jeans and a black V-neck sweater, making him look casual and understated. With the way the clothes hang on his body, he looks more like a model than a fighter. A model who doesn’t really care about his appearance, yet he looks perfect without effort.

I take a deep breath and try to delve into my work. “So tell me, are you nervous about the upcoming fight?”

“No.”

“Your opponent has slung some mud at you, claiming you’re a drug addict. Do you want to respond to his accusations?”

“No.”

“Are all of your answers going to be this short? Because it’s going to be difficult to make an article out of the word no.”

“Ask better questions then.”

Offended, I take a defensive attitude. “There’s nothing wrong with my questions.”

“How about we take turns. I’ll give you longer answers, but we go question for question.” He scooches an inch closer to me.

“I’m not the one being interviewed.”

“Apparently, then neither am I.” Leisurely grabbing a breadstick from the table, Vinny casually bites off a piece. A twinkle in his eye tells me he’s quite enjoying himself.

“You’re really going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he says.

I get the urge to smack the smug smile off his face. He knows I need this interview and he’s arrogant enough to hold it over me to have his fun.

“Fine. But I go first.”

“Always.” The flirtatious smile is back.

“Do you have a drug problem?”

Vinny shoots me a hard glance. “No. But I did. I started doing some stupid stuff after I broke my arm last year and couldn’t fight. In the beginning, I told myself it was to stop the pain. But it got out of control. Quickly. I’ve been clean for six months. Nico, my trainer, wouldn’t train me unless I was. He does random testing to make sure I stay on track.”

His honesty makes me feel less guarded. Studying his face while he speaks, I can’t help but take in every masculine feature. The way his mouth moves, the five o’clock shadow that brushes onto his chin and frames the squareness of his jaw. I find it difficult to stop staring.

Vinny’s gaze slides over mine and a wry half grin graces his sinfully beautiful face as he speaks. “My turn.”

I smile hesitantly. The playfulness in his voice, coupled with the dimples peeking out of his smile, makes me think he is enjoying himself, even though he just revealed something difficult.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

A pretty waitress comes to take our order and Vinny orders for both of us without asking. Lasagna. For lunch. It’s not something I would ever order at this time of the day, but I find it sweet he remembers what I’d always ordered for dinner when we studied late back in high school.

Returning his attention to me, he turns back and makes an expectant face. “So, what is it, yes or no?”

“No.”

“Now you’re giving me a one word answer. I thought we agreed those aren’t gonna cut it. Unless you want to start over with my answers all being no…”

“Fine.” I try my best to act annoyed. Rolling my eyes, I continue with my response. “I don’t have a boyfriend, currently. Two long-term relationships while I was away at college, the last one ended when school did. A date every once in awhile, but I’m pretty busy with my work most of the time.”

Vinny nods, pleased with my answer. My turn. “You turned down a fight with Ravek last year, saying you weren’t ready for a title fight. What makes you think you’re ready now?”

His eyebrows arch in surprise at my question. “You’ve done your homework.” I smile at the compliment and await his response. “I was considering joining the military last year. I may have been ready physically, but my head wasn’t in the game for that level of a fight.”

I remember back to when we were in high school. He’d always worn dog tags around his neck that belonged to his father. “Your dad was in the military, right?”

He reaches in under his sweater and pulls out the same tags I remember dangling so many years ago. “Haven’t taken them off except to fight since I was a kid. He died in the line of duty when I was a baby.” His face looks sad at the memory, but he quickly recovers. “That’s two you owe me now.”

“Did you go to the prom with Evan Marco?” Vinny asks.

The name brings back sad memories. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He was too injured to go. Wonder how that happened?” I respond with sarcasm. I’m actually surprised that he would even bring up Evan, no less push me to talk about what happened back then. I was only in tenth grade, so I was shocked when Evan had asked me to the prom. He was two years older and captain of the football team. Every girl wanted him to ask her. Yet he asked me. I hadn’t even realized he knew my name. I was just a wallflower, one of the smart girls who took advanced classes. But he did, and I was excited to go…even though deep down I secretly would’ve rather gone with Vinny. Then Evan got into a fight with Vinny a few weeks before prom and Evan canceled on me. I’d bought my dress and everything. I was devastated, but Vinny got it worse. He was already on probation for fighting and Evan’s father was on the school board. No one was surprised when Vinny was expelled.

My turn. “Why did you beat up Evan?”

Vinny’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “Olivia Michaels, are you asking me a personal question, not for your article?”

I blush, hating myself for asking. But I’d always wondered. Vinny got into fights often in high school, but it wasn’t usually with the jocks. He’d even been friendly with Evan before that. “I guess I am.”

He smiles halfheartedly, tension creeping back into his face. “He said something I didn’t like.”

“He said something you didn’t like?” I mock his answer in disbelief that he’d gotten himself expelled over something so trivial.

“That’s gonna count as another question if I have to repeat myself.” Vinny warns with a grin.

Almost two more hours go by and Vinny’s answered every question I’ve thrown at him. And I can tell he’s done so truthfully. In between our question and answer sessions, we reminisce about the time we spent together in high school. I’m surprised how much he remembers about me. My favorite foods, the music I listened to, how I rewrote my own endings to the classics, my dream of becoming a writer. It’s sweet and unexpected.