"Are you sure that this is what you want to wear?" Bella asks me with raised eyebrows after I've completed getting dressed on Tuesday. "I mean, you look totally hot but it's not really... you."

I look in the mirror and I like the outfit that I've chosen. I'm wearing my own pair of skinny jeans and my own pair of black wedge heels but I've borrowed a crop top from Bella's closet that's black with skeleton hands that look like they're groping my boobs, and a green cargo jacket because I might get cold. I agree with her—it definitely isn't me—but that's the point. I don't want to be me tonight.

"I'm sure," I confirm. My makeup is dramatic, my lips are a dark red and my blonde hair is down around my shoulders. The top exposes about six inches of my pale stomach which terrifies me but Bella has reassured me a thousand times that this looks good and that I can pull it off. "Thank you for helping me get ready."

"Yeah, no problem. Have a good time, you rebel child," She tells me as it's time for me to go. It's almost nine o'clock and I need to meet the guy with the tattoos and hope that I'm not dead in the morning. Or hope that I am, I haven't decided.

I say goodbye to her and then head back to my room just to grab my bag with my phone and a little bit of cash so that if this guy tries to rob me again, he won't be getting much. In my apartment, there's nobody in the shared space so I knock on Jesse's door.

"You in there?" I call in.

"Yeah, give me a sec," He calls back. I can hear him rustling through his room and I worry that Clayton might be in there. I don't want to see that, or face the fact that they're still hanging out here instead of at his studio apartment. 

"I'm leaving," I say to him through the door before he has time to open it. "If I'm not home in the morning and I'm not answering my phone, you might want to call the police. I'm not really sure what's going to happen tonight."

"Wait, where are you going?" He asks me, opening the door just a couple of inches to peek out. "And dressed like that, what's going on?"

"I told you—I'm going on a date."

"Don't go if you think that this guy is dangerous," He adds. "Why would you even consider that?"

"What do I have to lose?" I ask him before I turn around and start walking toward the front door to leave and head to that address that Tattoos had given me on Sunday.

"At least tell me the guy's name," Jesse says.

"No," I decline just before leaving the apartment with a slamming front door.

The address that he'd given me is just a five-minute walk down the road; it's an apartment building right across from campus. I can feel my heart beginning to race because I have no idea what's going to happen. I can't remember another time when I had no idea what was in store for me and it's incredibly exciting. A little bit terrifying because it's very likely that he only told me to show up so that he could mug me or something, but I'm trying to be optimistic.

Once I arrive at the apartment building, I just stand out front. He didn't give me a specific apartment so I'm not sure exactly where we're supposed to meet. I'm waiting for five minutes after nine and I'm starting to think that maybe this was just a prank or that he stood me up. He probably didn't think that I was stupid enough to show up.

And anyway, this is incredibly dangerous and I shouldn't be here at all. I don't know his name, where we're going, what we're doing, and nobody knows where I am or who I'm with—including me. I'm about to turn around and leave, scratching this entire stupid plan, when I hear a step in the grass behind me.

"I cannot believe that you actually showed up," Tattoos emerges from around the corner of the building looking very amused. "And that you stole somebody else's clothes just to impress me."

"These are my clothes," I lie. "And I'm not trying to impress you." Another lie.

"Alright, well how self-destructive are you feeling tonight?" He asks me curiously, probably using that phrase on purpose because last week on the night that we met, I had told him that I was feeling self-destructive.

"I'm here, aren't I?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Sure, let's go then," He offers me an amused smile and then starts walking down the sidewalk and so I follow him. "It's dangerous though, and you'll probably have a terrible time. I'm probably going to be the nicest person that you'll meet there."

That sure is saying something considering how much of an asshole he is. "Where are we going then?"

"How many Brad Pitt movies have you seen?"

"What?"

"How many Brad Pitt movies have you seen?" He repeats his question to me with no explanation.

"I don't know," I decide to just answer him. "I think he was in World War Z."

"Wren, how are you supposed to know the rules of fight club if you've never seen Fight Club?" He asks me, sounding very disappointed and exasperated. He also says my name, which I never told him, but I know that he was in my wallet so I guess that he took note of that when he was taking my money.

"I never thought that that knowledge would pertain to my life," I explain slowly. "Is that where we're going?"

"The first rule," He doesn't answer my question. "Is that you don't talk about fight club. Given that I have just broken that rule, you need to look like you belong or you will get me in trouble. Also, you cannot tell anybody else or I will have to kill you."

"How do I look like I belong?" I ask him cluelessly. I know that this is a stupid idea, I know that I should turn back around and leave because this really is dangerous and highly illegal but I am feeling such an adrenaline rush—a rush that I've never felt before—and it's somehow comforting to be doing something that it such a terrible thing to be doing.

"Don't talk to anybody," He explains. "Don't look shocked about what's going on. There's going to be a lot of blood and a lot of punching, do not freak out."

"So you fight, that's why all of the blood," I realize. "I have a thousand questions."

"You can ask three."

"Okay. What's your name? I keep referring to you as the asshole with the tattoos. Also, why did you want to bring me to this? And I'm saving my third one."

"Shaw."

"That's your real name?"

"It's what people call me. And I brought you because I think that it'll be funny. You look like such a sheltered person and that you need to be unsheltered just for a night at least," He explains.

"You don't expect me to fight, do you?"

"Is that your third question?"

"No," I say quickly. "But I'm not fighting. I'm not wearing the right shoes for it."

"You'd end up dead if you even tried," He assures me.

We turn a corner down a sketchy looking road and then into an unlabeled building. Once we're in the door, I can hear rowdy people shouting and chanting from the staircase. I'm getting pretty scared but I try to remain as calm as possible, like I do this kind of thing all of the time. Shaw walks down the dark staircase before me and once we're down the stairs, I see the rowdy bunch of people standing around an open circle in the cement basement where there are two people already in a human knot as they fight each other.

Shaw walks all the way into the room, waves to the bouncer, and I stay as close to him as possible. It's totally stupid to trust him to protect me considering I don't know him at all but he's my only hope at not dying and so I stay close. I'm definitely out of my comfort zone here. I'm not even near my comfort zone right now. My comfort zone is so far away that it could be on the moon.

But this adrenaline rush is indescribable, like every nerve in my body is on fire. The stench of peroxide and sweat fills the air but I don't look disgusted because Shaw said that I should fit in and these people are obviously very used to the smell.

I follow Shaw to a man holding a hat full of money. It's so loud with all of the shouting that I don't know what he says but when he turns back around to me, he explains. "I'm up in ten minutes. I hope you're not claustrophobic."

I just shake my head at him that I'm fine. I'm freaking out but I'm kind of loving every second of it. Even though we just got here, it's definitely a completely new world. And considering how shitty my world has been lately, new is good.

"You wanna bet on me?" He wonders with a handsome cocky grin.

"No way," I shake my head at him. "From what I've seen, you're not very good."

"I won that fight," He defends for the hundredth time. "I win every fight. Come on, take a risk."

"I'm taking a risk by being here," I remind him. "Impress me first and then we'll talk."

The fight ends and the crowd starts cheering and booing, depending on who they were rooting for, and the two men that were fighting walk out of the open circular space. I can't see the floor where the fights are happening but I wonder how much blood is soaked there. But then I get grossed out and try not to think about that anymore.

Another fight starts, this time two women, and the man with the hat announces the two women by their stage names. I can't really hear what he's saying too well because of all of the cheering and clapping and hollering.

"Do you want to get closer?" Shaw asks me.

I don't really, but I do want to be closer when he fights so that I can see it well, so I just nod at him and he easily wraps his arm around my waist to take us closer to the fight. It doesn't go unnoticed by me that he tucks his arm under my jacket so that his arm is resting on my bare waist between the hem of my crop top and the waist of my jeans.

He pulls me closer to the fighting circle but not directly on the edge. I'm standing behind two ladies dressed in short, tight dresses who are slinging on both sides of one tall, well-dressed man. I thought that my crop top was a little slutty but maybe I should have gone farther. Like a short skirt, maybe, instead of jeans.

I watch the two women fighting in the ring and it's brutal—I think the worst part is the sound of the flesh hitting flesh and I have to focus really hard on not flinching because Shaw said that I have to fit in; not being affected by the violence is how I fit in. I don't pull away from Shaw's arm either because I can't remember the last time that somebody has just had their arm around me or held me close to them without me basically latching onto Clayton because that's what I had to do to get him to ever really do what Shaw is doing right now.

It's pathetic that I crave human touch so badly that I am okay with this, but I am, and so I let it happen.

One of the bleeding women win the fight when the loser taps out. She's in such bad shape when the fight is over that she needs help getting ushered out of the circle. I look away to avoid gagging at how brutally beat up the poor lady is.

"I'm up," Shaw tells me as he retracts his arm from around my waist and then unexpectedly grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He hands it to me and I stare at the shirt instead of the body because I don't want to seem like I'm ogling, even though I want to.

"Good luck," I say to him as he starts walking toward the circle.

"Won't need it," He responds with a wink and then he's gone. Being closer to the fight, I can hear the announcer announce the fight this time.

"We've got our returning champ, Shaw," The crowd goes wild. Louder than I'd heard them in the past two fights that it almost makes me jump but I've been working on looking calm, so I don't jump, I just join in the cheering. He must be really well-liked here. "And his opponent, The Boulder."

The Boulder sounds and looks very scary. He has to have at least four inches on Shaw which is unbelievable considering how tall Shaw already is. And he's built like a boulder which I guess fits his name. He's got so many muscles that his muscles have muscles and the veins are constantly popping out of his skin. He looks so angry too, like his wife just told him that she has a second family and is taking the kids and leaving for Guam or something.

But Shaw doesn't look worried. He looks fired up and excited but definitely confident that he can take this guy. It will be interesting to see.

When the announcer backs away and then calls the fight to start, they test each other for a moment, stepping around without any contact but when The Boulder throws the first punch, Shaw quickly ducks it and then throws his own. The fight goes on for what feels like forever and whenever The Boulder gets a hit in on Shaw, I feel like I can physically feel it on my body too.

He's starting to look like the guy that I ran into last week in the grass, all bloody and broken. That doesn't mean that he's losing though, because The Boulder is looking even worse than Shaw. He's not as big as The Boulder but he's fast and really strong. Every one of his punches seems to pack a lot of pain and each time, The Boulder seems to crack a little bit more.

They fight and roll around in their own blood for a while. A few times, I have to keep my breaths even and calm so that I don't flinch or look queasy when Shaw gets hit because I need to fit in, like he said. Nobody is even looking at me, they're all watching Shaw dominate, so even if I did flinch I don't think it'd be a huge deal. I'm really paranoid right now though, so I just focus on not standing out.

Eventually, Shaw throws a punch to The Boulder's head and it knocks the man unconscious. He falls to the cement and the crowd goes wild again, so I guess that means that Shaw wins. I cheer with everybody else as two large men wearing all black enter the bloody circle and have to drag the unconscious knot of muscles out of the way.

Shaw raises his hands above his head with a bloody grin to enjoy his victory and the large crowd is still going insane for him. After a moment, he starts walking back toward me. The two ladies in front of me, I notice them eyeing Shaw as he returns to where I'm standing with his shirt. I know that I shouldn't feel possessive, but I'm almost ready to fight both of them if they try to talk to Shaw.

I barely know the guy and I have no reason to like him at all—he's rude, violent, and a criminal—and yet, I still feel like I don't want anybody else to see him or talk to him.

"Good one tonight, Shaw," The girl in the red dress states with a widening grin and her teeth are crooked, but too white, and her long brown hair is beautiful and I hate her stupid pretty face.

"I know," He says back to her and usually when people say that, they're joking, but Shaw isn't joking when he says that and it almost makes me laugh. She smiles at him one last time and then turns back around to watch the next fight that is about to begin.

I hand Shaw his shirt and instead of putting it on, he uses it to wipe the blood off of his face. "So, were you impressed?" He asks me.

"Grossed out mostly," I admit. "But sure, you really kicked that guy's ass."

"Let me go get my money and then we can go get something to eat," He offers. Because he's so bloody, he doesn't wrap his arm around my waist again which I appreciate, because I can't get blood on this shirt. How would I explain that to Bella? He does take my hand in his though, so that I don't get lost in the wild crowd, and we return to the man with the money in the hat. They say a few things to each other and then the man hands Shaw a stack of cash larger than my fist.

He then drags me through the basement again and through a narrow hallway that leads to what looks like it used to be a bathroom but was abandoned. This whole building is probably abandoned.

I'm surprised when he turns the handle on the faucet and the water actually runs in the sink.

"How are you sure that you haven't broken anything?" I ask him, leaning against the wall as he cleans himself up using his shirt as a rag to wet and then dab on his face. He uses the dirty cracked mirror in front of him to know where the blood is that he needs to clean up.

"I've broken bones before," He supplies. "I know how it feels. And that guy was a balloon, his muscles were only for show—he hit like a little fairy."

"I don't think fairies break your face like that," I inform him.

"Sure, well at least next time, you'll bet on me," Shaw says.

"Next time?"

"Yeah, aren't you just having the time of your life?" He wonders, continuing to ruin his shirt in order to clean off his face so that we can go out in public without somebody calling an ambulance.

"Yeah, I can see myself coming back," I confirm with a nod. "It was... very interesting."

"Impressive," He corrects me.

"Wow, your masculinity really is fragile," I notice with a laugh.

"Like a tiny little baby bird," He agrees and again, I laugh.

"Okay, well I was very impressed," I say to him just so that he can feel good about himself. I wonder if he's always so worried about impressing people or if it's just me. We hardly know each other but I like the thought. "Where are we going for dinner? You're buying, of course."

"Why am I buying?"

"Because this is a date, isn't it?"

"That's an outdated tradition," He argues.

"Okay, well then how about you still owe me twenty bucks anyway," I remind him as he gets as cleaned up as he can possibly get and then we head out of the basement, leaving the 'fight club' and going back onto the street.

"Alright, fine," He concedes. "Somewhere that doesn't require a shirt."

"So that would be nowhere."

We finally agree to walk down the road to where there's a fast food restaurant and he gives me some money so that I can go inside, get our food, and we can sit down somewhere and eat. Sitting in the grass near the field that we'd met in, we start to eat.

"So do you do this often?" I ask him as we eat. "Find a vulnerable girl that you think is too good and try to turn her into someone like you?"

"Someone like me?"

"A law breaking badass type," I explain.

"I never said that I think that you're too good," He adds. "But you're going through something and the fights are a good way to let out some energy. Even if you're not actually fighting. And no, I've never taken anybody there before so you should feel special."

"Why do you think that you have me so figured out?"

"Because I do," He responds easily. "I think that you've followed the rules you're entire life but something happened recently and you're trying to act a little wild to rebel. Am I wrong?"

"What makes you think that?" I don't tell him that he's completely right because that's freaky that he can tell all of that just from the few meetings that we've had.

"You were running in the middle of the night, something that you clearly never do. You were obviously upset about something. But then at the café, you were quiet and soft spoken," He explains. "My mother is a therapist, I've been psychoanalyzed my whole life, so I'd like to think I've picked up a couple of tricks."

I don't know what to say to that at first but then I finally respond with, "I just broke up with a long-term boyfriend."

"So basically I nailed it," He gloats. "Sucks about your boyfriend though."

"Yeah. It does suck," I agree with him. "I did everything right and it still just blew up in my face."

"And now you're trying to make up for that by doing something wrong?" He assumes.

"Yeah, I guess that I am," I confirm.

"Well, I'm honored to be your rebound."

"I never said that you're my rebound," I object.

"Then what am I?" He wonders.

"You're my something wrong," I explain to him as I stand up because I should get back to the apartment. It's getting late and it's a Tuesday night. I have class tomorrow.

"Does that mean that you're going to do me?" He raises his eyebrows at me and it makes me laugh, I even blush a little bit. I pull a pen out of my small purse—I had to replace the one that he stole—and I hold his hand to write my number.

"I'll think about it."