Calista

It had been over a week since I had last spoken to Lincoln. The Thanksgiving break had come and gone without a word from him. I had sent him the occasional message asking about tutoring and how Sadie was doing. It was as if he straight up disappeared off of the face of the planet. Part of me wanted to storm over to the training facility and demand an answer—a reason as to why he was leaving me on read and avoiding my calls.

But if I was being honest, I was too embarrassed.

The night Lincoln and I had sex, I felt like we had connected on another level. He was so open with me, telling me things about his past—things involving Sadie and his parents. I honestly felt as though he trusted me. Cared for me. Instead of being able to bask in the progress we have made I sat in The Underground with Harper contemplating if everything he said to me was a lie.

I didn't want to believe it. There was no way Lincoln was diabolical enough to make up everything he had told me that night. He wasn't a fuck boy trying to get some action. Not unless he liked playing the long game. I sighed, pinching another nacho off of the platter. I had never been so fucked up over a boy.

"I'll hang him by his toes and wait until he passes out," Harper grumbled around the chip in her mouth. "Or perhaps we could waterboard him until he apologizes for his transgressions."

We had ordered a plate of nachos to share. Share being the operative word. Harper had smashed more than half of them on her angry tirade. 

"That won't solve anything," I reminded her.

She shoved another short-stack of nachos in her mouth. Then she swallowed. "It would make me feel better. Next time listen to me. I swear I have a radar for assholes."

"Harper, you think everyone is an asshole before you get to know them."

"Guilty until proven otherwise." She brought her attention back to the plate in front of her. Her thick ponytail swishing like a horse's mane.

She picked up another chip. It hovered inches from her lips. Unlike the others, this one didn't make it any further. Harper froze, her eyes glued to the staircase that housed the main entrance to The Underground.

I popped another chip in my mouth, taking my time with chewing as I regarded her. "What are you looking at?" I said once I had swallowed. Unlike Harper, I couldn't eat like a caveman in public.

Peeking over the back of the booth, I tried to figure out what had her attention in a death grip. It didn't take me too long.

Speak of the devil.

Descending down the steps of the bustling bar was none other than Lincoln. Andrew right next to him. Sandwiched between them, on Lincoln's board shoulder, was his gym bag. I admired the way his t-shirt stretched taut across his chest; the way his hair hung in its usual dishevelled manner.

He looked good, like he was doing fine. My chest tightened. All of the frustration that had taken over my body for the past week had been replaced by a gut-wrenching sadness.

I ducked back down behind my booth, settling into my seat. My stomach churned, the mediocre appetite I had managed to stir up dissipated.

"Get up, Cal." Harper demanded. "They're on the move."

I swallowed a large gulp of beer. "Huh? We're not going anywhere."

"We most certainly are," Harper insisted, grabbing hold of my wrist. She tugged on my arm, leading me out of the booth and into the crowd of people that had begun to gather for the night.

"Harper," I hissed at her.

She didn't even acknowledge me. She trudged forward, weaving us around people who were trying to get to the bar. Andrew's head bobbed above the forming crowd of bar-goers. It served as a beacon of loose curls, allowing Harper and I to keep track of where the two of them were headed. They continued their way past the bar and billiard tables, towards the hall at the other end of the makeshift dance floor.

"They're probably headed to the bathroom," I told Harper, trying to dig my heels into the laminate floor.

Harper didn't flinch. She continued to tug me along as if I weighed no more than a yappy chihuahua. "We are going to get you answers."

I cursed my best friend's workout regimen as she guided us deeper into The Underground. As expected, Lincoln and Andrew disappeared into the depth of the hall, taking an unexpected right turn.

We were hot on their trail, heading towards the narrow hall when a conga line of dancers cut in front of us.

"You've got to be kidding me," Harper muttered under her breath, taking a detour.

By the time we had entered the hallway Lincoln and Andrew were gone. We ventured down, our shoes slapping against the tile. At the end of the short hall was a single exit. 

"Harper, that's for staff only." I gestured to the sign on the door. The bold, red writing clearly stated for us to stay out. "They wouldn't have gone in there."

"There's no other way out." Harper released my wrist, moving towards the metal door without hesitation.

Did they go left and I thought they had gone right? Perhaps the beer I had with dinner affected me more than I thought. The only thing that was keeping me from completely questioning my sanity was that Harper and I saw the same thing. It wouldn't be impossible for them to have a friend they were visiting at work. A line cook in the kitchen or a bartender waiting for their shift to start? Regardless, I wasn't too fond of the idea of hashing things out with Lincoln in front of an audience.

"Let's just go back, Harper."

Her pale hand landed on the doorknob. She twisted and the door clicked open. I was about to reprimand her and drag her back to our deserted table, until I noticed that the dark room was nothing but a storage closet.

"This makes no sense," Harper muttered to herself.

"See?" I tried to reason with her. "There's no way they came this way. C'mon."

Harper ignored my pleas. The hinges creaked as she propped it open further. The closet could fit no more than two people. Shelves of cleaning products stood against each wall. A single light bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling, a string hanging in the lonely room.

Harper's hand shot around my wrist again, yanking me into the dark closet with her. The door clanged shut behind us and for a moment we were left in the dark.

My nose crinkled at the smell of artificial lemon and bleach. "What the hell are we doing in here, Harp?"

Harper fished her phone out of her jean pocket. She flicked open the flashlight, illuminating the row of shelves. I squinted, giving my eyes time to adjust. When they did, I noticed the furrow of Harper's eyebrows. She was staring at the string hanging between us.

"The string," Harper started. "It's swinging."

I focused on the thin thread. It swayed in space, the light from Harper's phone casting a shadow on the wall. "Okay... and that means?"

"There's kinetic energy at play here," Harper began, eyes still trained on the single string. "In simpler terms, either someone pulled this string before we entered, something is causing this room to vibrate on an almost undetectable level, or both."

Harper pinched the bottom of the string in between her thumb and pointer finger. She held it for a moment, attempting to stabilize it. Then she let go and the string returned to its slow dance.

"This closet is attached to a bar... and beneath one of the most high-traffic areas on campus. Anything could be making this thing move."

"Potentially," Harper stated. "But something is telling me otherwise."

Without warning, she switched off her flashlight. In the dark I heard the click of the string being pulled. The closet light didn't switch on. Instead, the wall opposite of the closet door popped open.

An odd sound emerged from the other side of the hidden door. It was a roaring of excitement mixed with heavy bass. I squinted at the bright light that poured into the cramped space. Harper and I exchanged glances, then we inched towards the sliver of light.

Harper peered through the crack first before waving me over. I took a breath, crouching so that I could take a look as well. On the other side of where the shelf used to be was another room. People were milling around and socializing. Most with drinks in their hands. House music thumped and I wondered if that is what was causing the string from the single lightbulb to dance. Now that the wall was propped open, I could feel the music course through my chest.

Against the wall that I could see, I noticed raised booths. Waitresses wearing next to nothing milled around, trays of drinks and bottles in their hands. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought we stumbled across some sort of underground club.

What the hell did Harper get us into?

Harper pressed her hands against the edge of the door. It was my turn to grab her wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"Investigating."

"Harper," I said, trying not to draw any attention to ourselves. "We are not going in there. Let's go back." I attempted to tug her towards the way we came, but she didn't budge. Her hands stayed rooted.

Her curious gaze left the crowd to focus on me. "Are you not the slightest bit curious as to what Lincoln is doing in a place like this?"

I should have lied and said no—that I didn't care what Lincoln was doing in his spare time. But I did care and I did want to know why he had been ghosting me.

I swallowed thickly. "I don't want to get us into any trouble. This place is clearly a secret for a reason."

"We'll locate the target and vacate before anyone else even realizes we're here," Harper assured me.

A deadpan stare took over my face. "This is not some kind of special ops mission."   

The sparkling in her hazel eyes told me she thought otherwise. Harper pushed the door open and hauled me through. It was only once I was through the threshold that I was able to comprehend how massive this underground room really was.

It definitely looked like a basement. Vents ran along the ceilings. The walls were crafted out of less than aesthetic cinder blocks. Moisture formed around some of the exposed piping, dripping onto the cement floor. I could smell the mildew. Despite the fact it was a literal unfinished basement there was a gathering of people. More than I'd ever seen in The Underground at one time.

The other weird thing? Most of the people there didn't look like university students I'd seen around campus. As if to prove me right, my eyes landed on a middle aged man with a beard down to his belly button smack one of the servers on the ass. When the man turned back to his friends at the booth I felt the unnerving feeling of being watched.

I peered over my shoulder. Stationed by the hidden door was a man dressed in black from the neck door. He stood against the hard, grey wall, his arms bulging across his chest. The expression on his face was all business.

Harper nudged my arm, causing me to tear my eyes away from the man's scrutinizing glare. He gestured to our right, finger pointing into the thickest mass of people. In the centre of the crowd was a boxing ring. It was similar to the one that I had seen Lincoln fight in, but with one major difference. This one was wrapped in a metal cage. The criss-crossing material reminded me of a chain link fence. I couldn't decide if it was there to keep the crowd out or to keep the fighters in.

Something told me I was about to find out.

The tempo of the music changed. It was deeper, more ominous, and I was beginning to regret my decision to allow Harper to convince me that this was a good idea. I squeezed her hand a little tighter, hoping she would realize that wanted to go back. She didn't. Harper led me deeper into the throng of people.

The entire time I kept searching for Lincoln or for Andrew. Neither one of them were to be seen and a knot of anxiety began to build in my chest. The ring, Lincoln being MIA, the gym bag over his shoulder. There were too many coincidences. I prayed that my gut was wrong.

The music faded, the rumbling of the crowd hushed along with it. A man with a microphone appeared in the centre of the ring. The grin he was wearing split his grin from ear to ear and the crowd fed off of his excitement. Harper and I exchanged concerned looks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your patience tonight has been greatly appreciated. Are you ready for the main event?"

Hollering and whistling bounced off the walls, reverberating through my body. If I thought the energy at Lincoln's boxing match was intense, this was something else entirely.

"It's the moment you've all been waiting for. Tonight's match will be like no other," the man promised, moving around the ring to address the crowd. "A reminder before we start to place your bets. See one of our gorgeous ladies and they'll get you sorted."

"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we have two fan favourites. Two ultimate fighters in their own right. In red we have Jordan 'Two-Hit' Matthews."

At the sound of his name, Two-Hit entered the ring. He flexed, muscles rippling under the hot stage lights. The crowd hollered. People in the front slammed their hands against the cage, causing it to rattle. A shiver crawled up my spine.

"And in blue we have our reigning champion, the King of the Ring... Lincoln 'Young Blood' Pierce!"

The sound of his name was like a shot of adrenaline. My heart hammered from within my chest, threatening to escape. Lincoln made his way through the rickety gate on the far side of the ring. There was a blankness to his eyes. Unlike his opponent, Lincoln didn't make a spectacle. He advanced to his side of the ring, taking in the man who was still bouncing around the ring. Lincoln's face was void. It was as if the person in front of him wasn't a person at all.

This wasn't the Lincoln I saw in the boxing ring. This Lincoln was a weapon, a predator. Bile raised to my throat.

"What do you say folks?" The announcer said. "Are you ready for the fight of the night?" He raised both hands, beckoning for the crowd to cheer louder. A maniacal gleam appeared in his eyes at the uproar around him. "Well then, let's get ready to rumble."

* * * * *

author's note:

Guess we now know what Lincoln was hiding. Don't think Cali's too thrilled...

On a side note, this chapter is much longer than my usual posts. How do you feel about it? Do you like the shorter chapters (~1500 words) or longer ones (~2500 words). For serialized fiction like this most people recommend the shorter length, but I'd love to know what you think.

See you Friday!