Finding Me

“Damn, why haven’t I seen those heels before?” I glance down at my feet as I lock my apartment door behind us.

“If I die tonight because of these shoes, make sure my headstone conveys how great they were.”

Fitz laughs, offering his arm. I thread mine through it as we make our way to his car. Spring has finally started to arrive, promising warmer weather and longer days. Things have continued to improve with each passing week. Classes are going well, and I’m slowly starting to engage myself in discussions, even when it’s not a requirement from my professors. My meetings with Kitty are still every Wednesday, and I’m begi

Fitz and I haven’t made significant progress at the lab thus far in diagnosing additional warning signs and symptoms of aortic aneurisms; however, Fitz was able to discover some very valuable information for another team of doctors that’s significantly improved their current study.

We returned to New York last weekend and visited Hosa

That too calmed down the following day, and she returned to her previous behavior from Thanksgiving, spending the remainder of the weekend shoving food at me and insisting that I eat every chance she got.

Da

We arrive at the arena and I’m shocked to see such a large crowd. I’m learning that I’m in the minority of people that find this sport barbaric. I allow Fitz to lead me as I gaze at the mass of fans, some wearing fewer clothes than what I’d see at a Karli Lincoln party. Others are wearing face paint and masks. Many women have proactive offers painted across their shirts that are difficult to read, but you really don’t need to in order to understand the invitation.

“Come on, Pollya

We have attended a small handful of Da

“What are you doing?” Fitz asks as I take my seat. The accusation in his tone makes me immediately think of Kendall.

“It’s freezing, leave me alone.”

“Why are you nervous, H? You know Da

Da

Fitz flags down a concession guy carrying a tray of beers and hands me one before paying an obscene amount for the two drinks I still have barely managed to tolerate. He takes one and slings his arm across the back of my seat.

Tonight’s match is at one of the larger arenas we’ve been in and later because it’s being televised. Although Da

The emcee heads to the center of the ring, microphone in hand, and the crowd goes crazy, screaming and cheering. He eats it up and encourages it by waving his arms. I’m so distracted watching the crowd react to every word he shouts—as though they’ve been starved and each word is a rich morsel of food—that I miss most of what he’s actually saying.

A few women to our right are literally tearing up, and I’m not positive if it’s because they’re so emotionally overloaded or they have genuine fear for Da

Fitz’s elbow in my side pulls my attention from the crowd, and I look up to see Da

Da

His opponent tonight, Vanilla Thunder, is a mammoth of a man, standing both taller and wider than Da

“Is that real?” I ask, looking to Fitz after Vanilla Thunder flexes for the crowd, earning a chorus of cheers and insults. The muscles on his biceps alone look larger than my waist. It doesn’t seem possible.

“They test them before each match, but who knows? That guy’s yoked.”

I still can’t manage to watch Da

When he receives his first blow, I have to turn away. Fitz calls the hit a haymaker, but I really couldn’t care less what it’s called. It breaks the skin on Da

The crowd shifts from cheers to boos as the fight progresses, and Fitz quietly fills me in as I keep my attention on the crowd surrounding us, which gives me a pretty good indication of what’s going on.

The noise level rises to one that I’ve never heard before, and rather than being a cheer that I’ve been desperately waiting for, it’s chorus of boos, dotted by shouts about something being illegal. Fitz’s hand clamps around my wrist, mirroring my fears. I know not to look. I know that I should wait until Fitz gives me some sort of indication as to what’s occurring. I also know that I can’t wait. Although emotions have been warring in me for the last couple of months about what Da

My eyes snap to the large mat and focus on Da

I fish in my pockets and grasp the VIP pass, knowing full well it’s not supposed to grant me access until the ring is cleared. He looks ready to tell me so, when Frank, Da