Calista

The off campus bar was overflowing for a Thursday night. She had somehow wrestled me into a country bar on one of the busiest strips in the city. The dance floor was a sea of ten gallon hats and plaid. The high top table we managed to secure was off to the side, right under a pair of mounted bull horns. The blonde bombshell stood in front of me plopped her empty glass down with a clang.

"Are you sure you don't want just one drink?" Ella held up one sharp finger in front of her face and gave me a puppy dog stare. "Speaking from experience, it does help a little bit."

"I'm sure El," I promised, grabbing onto her hands and bringing them down in front of her. Her talons were dangerously close to her eye and the last thing I needed was an unexpected trip to the nearest hospital. "You have another one for me."

"But that's not how tonight was supposed to go," she whined, throwing her head back.

I laughed at her antics. "How was tonight supposed to go?"

She didn't have to tell me. I knew about her wicked little plan from the beginning. For the last few nights, Ella had spent an odd amount of time in our dorm room. She had been itching to go out, I could tell by the way she paced against our worn carpet, but she was a good friend and didn't have the heart to leave me alone. I knew she was going stir crazy, so when she asked me to go out to a bar off campus with her I couldn't turn her down.

"You were meant to drink with me," she pouted.

"And then how would we get home? I signed up to be DD."

"Leave my car in her comfy, little parking spot and take an Uber back—duh."

The corner of my lip twitched. "I'm okay, Ella."

"Are you sure?" She asked, leaning in closer. "I know you really liked him."

I gave her a gentle nod. "I'll survive. Thank you for being such a good friend."

"Always, Cali Girl," she said. She heaved me in for a hug so hard I almost fell off my stool. "If you ever need anything—and I mean anything—you just say the word."

"Actually, if you could get Harper to stop planning Lincoln's murder that would be great," I said into her hair.

"No can do."

I couldn't contain the giggle that escaped past my lips. "And why not?"

"Because I'm helping her." She leaned back, one hand resting on each one of my shoulders. "For legal purposes, I'm kidding. But that boy better hope we don't cross paths anytime soon."

She gave me a pat only to saunter off to the bar with the empty glass she had sitting on the high top table we were occupying. She shimmed with the music all the way to the bartender in her leather boots.

While Ella schmoozed another drooling college boy into buying her a drink a vibration started in my back pocket. I dragged out my phone, taking note of the name on the screen. My heart skipped a beat.

Lincoln's face flashed into the screen. It was a selfie that Sadie had taken one night while I was over their house. I had given her my phone to play with while Lincoln and I were studying—something to pass the time and keep her occupied. Well, the smart cookie figured out how to work the camera. Something inside me warmed at the memory. The two of them were sporting goofy grins. I wasn't even sure Lincoln knew I had this picture.

Wandering towards the back door, I tried to find a quieter space to answer the call. I managed to slip into the hallway that led to the bathroom before pressing accept.

"Hello?"

"Cali?" Lines creased my forehead. That didn't sound like Lincoln.

I pulled the phone away from my ear to double check the name on the top of the screen. Sure enough, I hadn't been imagining things. I returned the phone to the side of my face and spoke into the receiver. "Drew?"

"Hey," his voice lacked the usual humour. Andrew had this way of sounding like everything in the world was somehow amusing. The serious tone he was sporting wasn't something I was expecting.

An uncomfortable prickling crawled up my back. "Hey, is everything okay? Why are you calling me from Lincoln's phone?"

"He needs your help, Cali."

Dread pooled in my stomach like a leaky dam. "What happened?"

Lincoln was very clear in his last words to me. He didn't want me around. For whatever reason. The fact that his best friend was contacting me made me nauseous. A hundred different scenarios swirled around in my mind like a tornado.

"Lincoln had a match at the Pit tonight," Andrew started, bringing himself to pause. It felt like eternity before he spoke again. "He's hurt, Cali. He's hurt bad."

→

I was a stickler for the rules.

The anxiety I experienced when I thought I'd get in trouble with an authority figure was next level. The mere thought of being pulled over made me break out in hives. Which is why my father joked that I drove at a turtle's pace. Ever since I had gotten my license I took great pride in following the speed limit. However, on this chilly December night I didn't care about any of that. I had to get to Lincoln.

I made it to campus in record time, skidding into an empty parking spot and almost forgetting to lock Ella's car. The heart of the student centre was empty besides a few small groups of people littered about. They were so relaxed, oblivious to what was happening beneath them.

Speed walking down the Underground's steps I bypassed the security personnel at the bottom of the stairs. I took a sharp left and headed towards the tight hall at the end of the room. The music rattled through me, agitating my nerves even more. I squeezed through a few dancers who had migrated too close to the bar, their sweat slicked bodies touching mine. When I broke through the crowd I beelined the rest of the way to the hidden entrance.

I checked over my shoulder before twisting the handle to the storage closet. The metal door clanked shut behind me, leaving me in the dark. I wasted no time yanking on the string that hung in the middle of the room. It clicked and the wall across from me popped open. I scurried out of the closet, losing myself in the crowd as I entered The Pit.

Following Andrew's instructions I moved around the perimeter of the cement room. I couldn't believe how many people were there. There was music and laughing. The smell of marijuana rammed into me, smacking me across the face. No one was phased regarding what had happened in the ring a mere fifteen minutes prior.

Curiosity got the best of me. I peered over toward the lit up cage. There was no one inside, but the stadium lights were still on. Fresh blood glistened under them. It was smeared across the mat and up the sides of the cage. Dizziness engulfed me and I forced myself to take a deep breath. I had to get a hold of myself or there would be no way I would be able to help Lincoln.

I slipped by a greasy man who sent crude comments my way, picking up the pace towards the far side of the room, just as Andrew had said. I bulldozed through the first door, wandering down the hall. The lights flickered, the smell of mildew disguising the scent of smoke from outside.

Last door to the left.

The sound of my foot falls ricocheted off of the walls, causing an eerie echo. As I continued down the narrow hall I noticed the drips of blood along the concrete floors. My heart hammered harder and I picked up the pace.

When I reached the last door to the left, I twisted the handle and barged right in.

Lincoln was sitting on a wooden bench that ran across the length of the mingy room. Sweat slicked his body, his chest heaving, but his eyes were cracked open and a small wave of relief washed over me.

"I told you not to call her," Lincoln grunted when he noticed me. With his teeth clenched he leaned his head back on the grimy brick wall. His blood-slicked hand was clenched around a once-white towel. The bunched material was pressed against his torso, applying pressure to the wound underneath.

Andrew was standing up against a row of rusty lockers, arms crossed. "You weren't giving me much of a choice," he muttered.

Lincoln shot his best friend a dirty look. "I told you my mom could do it."

Andrew scoffed. "And risk you bleeding out on the way to the hospital? Fat fucking chance. The last time we were forced to go there it took her almost forty-five minutes to sneak out to the parking lot to fix you up."

I rallied a horrified expression between the two of them. "In the parking lot?"

"Hospitals ask too many questions," Lincoln breathed.

"What do you mean? Just tell them you were jumped on your way home," I said, throwing out my arms.

"And get the pigs involved?" Lincoln grinded out. "Fuck that."

Andrew sent me an unamused look. "He's got white coat syndrome."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Lincoln Pierce, renowned boxer for Fenton University, was afraid of doctors. "There aren't any medics in this place?"

Lincoln winced. "Define medics."

"We've got some bartenders that are loosely trained in CPR," Andrew chimed in. When I gawked at him he elaborated. "This isn't exactly a sanctioned university event."

"He should be at a hospital," I tried reasoning with Andrew.

"Yeah," Andrew drawlled. "You can try, but I promise you it's not going to happen. The only way you're getting him inside of a hospital is in a body bag. Trust me, I've tried."

I blanched at the thought.

"I'm fine," Lincoln grunted. He acknowledged me with half-closed lids. "Just stitch me up."

Stitches were not really in my repertoire of expertise. Registered nurses weren't trained in suturing. However, I would be lying if I didn't have a training kit stashed away in my desk drawer.

A few unsure steps was all it took to close the distance between us. "What if there are internal injuries? You need an ultrasound to check for—"

"California," Lincoln stopped me from ranting. His dark chocolate eyes pinned me. "I'm fine. It's nothing more than a flesh wound."

"A flesh wound," I repeated in disbelief. "I followed a trail of blood down the hall to this room. I find it hard to believe it's just a flesh wound."

Lincoln's Adam's apple bobbed, eyes closing for a second. "See for yourself."

I drew in a deep breath through my nose. Lowering myself to my knees I brushed my hand over his. He understood the nonverbal request and removed his hand from the towel. Trying to steady my nerves, I lifted the material.

I sucked in a breath of stale air. The laceration was a sizeable five inch gash that spanned from somewhere above Lincoln's hip bone and up his side. While the wound was long, I couldn't get a good read on how deep it was. It was hard to get a good look at anything when there was that much blood.

"I need water and some clean towels," I ordered Andrew without taking my eyes off of the injury.

Within a few moments Andrew had retrieved the items I had requested. I soaked the worn material in the tin bowl of water, washing away some of the blood on Lincoln's side. By the time I was able to get a good look at the cut the water in the bowl had turned red.

"I don't think you hit muscle, so I should be able to stitch you up without worrying that you've nicked anything major."

"Then do it," Lincoln said. Sweat glistened on his forehead, exhaustion edging his voice. I couldn't imagine the kind of pain he must have been in.

"I'm not trained in this," I said to Lincoln, trying to reason with him. "I won't be learning any of this until I start my Masters."

"You're telling me that you of all people haven't jumped ahead in your studies and figured out how to sew two pieces of skin back together?" Lincoln let out a dry chuckle that ended up in a wince. "I'm not that stupid, California."

I moved his hand onto the fresh towel, gesturing for him to apply pressure. His movements were sluggish, but he managed to do as I asked.

I turned to address Andrew. "Do you have a suture kit?"

Andrew produced a box from the top of one of the lockers. "This is all we've got."

The words 'First Aid' were printed across the top in bold, red letters. I reached for it, popping open the plastic clasps and praying something of use would be inside. Among the disposable gloves, rolled bandages, and sterile gauze lay a black fabric case. I unzipped it, thankful to see the row of shiny stainless steel scissors, tweezers and forceps.

"I don't suppose you have anything for the pain?" I asked Andrew as I sifted through the instruments.

He gave me a hopeless look. "Not unless he's willing to take a few swigs from a bottle of Jack."

I shook my head, trying to keep a steady hand as I attempted to get the thread onto the needle. "Alcohol will thin the blood and cause him to bleed more."

"I don't need anything," Lincoln argued. He sucked in a sharp breath and my chest clenched. "Let's just get this over with."

"Help me lay him down," I whispered to Andrew

Lincoln groaned as Andrew helped him lean back on the bench. His wide stature was almost too wide to fit on the thin wooden plank.

I slipped the forceps from the case, willing my hands to stop trembling. "Just let me know if you need to take a break."

Lincoln's tired eyes met mine. They urged me to get it over and done with. There was so much pain behind that tough exterior, some of which didn't seem like it stemmed from his most recent injury.

I was getting more and more flustered by the second. Here I was, Lincoln bleeding out in front of me, and my hands were shaking so bad that I couldn't thread the needle. The back of my eyes pricked with tears of frustration. I was getting ready to admit defeat when smooth fingers rested on the back of my hand.

"You've got this," Andrew whispered.

I drew in another deep breath before giving my hands a shake and starting again. After a couple more tries I managed to tie the suture to the hook. The sharp edge hovered over Lincoln's skin.

"Let me know if you need me to stop," I reminded him before plunging the needle into his side.

Lincoln sucked in a breath, his body going stiff at the sensation. I weaved the sutures around with the forceps and tied off the first stitch.

"How did this even happen?" I asked, trying to keep Lincoln's attention on my voice.

"Silva's fucking dirty, that's how," Andrew announced, his tone heated. His stoney gaze was aimed at the door to the makeshift changeroom. "The fucker snuck a blade in under his shorts."

"A blade?" My hands stilled. "Is that allowed?"

"It's not not allowed."

"Doesn't sound like a fair fight," I said, struggling with the bile that was threatening to spill over.

Andrew's voice sounded like sandpaper. "There's a lot of things that aren't fair."

The way his hazel eyes shifted over to me, I knew there was more meaning to that sentence than he was letting on. But I didn't have the brain capacity to figure it out at that moment. There were so many things I wanted answers for. For example, how could Lincoln choose to put himself in such a dangerous position? Knowing someone could pull a knife on him in the middle of a caged fight? I peered up at him. Lincoln's eyes were skewed together tight, his chest heaving. As much as I wanted to demand answers, I knew now was not the time.

I hooked the needle into his skin again, trying to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. Silence settled into the room, the only noise coming from Lincoln's heavy breathing and a nearby boiler. The sooner we got him out of here, and away from this place, the better.

The minutes stretched on. Tension hung heavy in the air, both men waiting for me to finish. At some point, Andrew had left to go bring his car closer to one of The Pit's many exits. It probably wasn't a great idea to have Lincoln walking across campus with fresh stitches.

When I cut the suture for the last tread a wave of exhaustion washed over my body. The adrenaline had officially worn off and I was feeling the after effects.

"Alright." I placed the instruments back into their case. "You're all patched up. Only 25 stitches later."

Lincoln peered down at his side before looking back at me. His tired eyes danced with humour. "That's going to leave a pretty wicked scar, huh?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Most likely."

I was in the middle of organizing the First Aid kit when Lincoln's soft voice caused me to look up at him—our eyes connecting like magnets.

"Hey, Cali?" He started, reaching out his hand. "Thank you for coming."

Without hesitation, I took his hand in mine, our fingers intertwining. "Anytime."

* * * * *

author's note:

Ten more chapters left. What else could go wrong? (:

Sorry for the late update. I've had a crazy couple of weeks and I think it's finally catching up to me. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, Lincoln and Cali, predictions, things you'd like to see happen as I close out this story, anything!

I hope you have a wonderful weekend (long weekend for my fellow Canadians)!