Seth

 

After the weigh in, the days passed quickly, all of them uneventful. Selena stayed with us and I barely saw Jackson. He spent most of his time out and about doing God knows what with God knows who. I spent most of mine talking strategies with Darryl while Olivia hung out with Selena. I listened to whatever Darryl had to say, but at the end of the day, this is my fight and Don will pay however I see fit…

 

…and now we’re here. Fight night.

 

“He can take everything you’ve worked so hard for, Seth.” Darryl’s voice chimes through my brain and my blood vibrates in my veins, like I’m a strip of metal that’s been zapped by lightning.

 

Fight. Fucking. Night. The night I’ve been waiting for for months now. This is the last night I’m going to prepare in a room like this. This is the last time my hands are going to be wrapped for a professional fight and this is the last time I’m going to fight in front of tens of thousands of people. The room is quiet. The only sound filling my ears is the rapid beating of my heart. I pace back and forth, back and forth. The cool cement under my feet tickles the soles, but they’re barely noticed. The tingles in my chest are more predominant tonight. For the last time, I’m warmed up and ready to go. I clench and unclench my hands, testing my wraps and gloves. Unlike last time, there’s still enough room for blood to flow to the tips of my fingers. I bounce on the balls of my feet and swing my arms—moving them to my favorite pre-fight combo. I ignore everyone else in the room on purpose. My mind is on this fight and this fight alone. I’m prepared—more than prepared. No secrets hold me down and no worries linger at the back of my mind. Don could’ve ruined my marriage with the stunt he played at the weigh in and now he’s going to pay for it.

 

I pull at the neck of my hoodie, growing uncomfortable in it. I want to tear it off and do this thing now. I want to fight now, not in—I glance at the clock—twenty minutes. I don’t want to wait twenty minutes to destroy Don’s career and then kick mine to the curb.

 

It’s kind of surreal actually, knowing this is it for me. After this, I never have to experience pre-fight jitters and I don’t have to push my body to the brink of exhaustion every day. I can be normal… I can lead a normal life with my wife and my kid.

 

“Rope,” Darryl says, handing me the jump rope.

 

Without a word I take it from his hands and get to it. I don’t want my body to relax for a second. I need to be quick and strong… I will be quick and strong.

 

I see Olivia out of the corner of my eye sitting on a chair against the wall. She’s wearing a tight ‘Seth’ shirt. Since she’s sitting in my corner tonight and forgot her baggier one, the MMAC issued her this one. I’m certain they gave her a size too small on purpose. It clings to her gorgeous curves and exposes the tiniest baby ‘bump’ I’ve ever seen. It’s not much considering she’s still very early in her pregnancy, but at least it’s a start. If you didn’t know she was pregnant, you wouldn’t notice, but I see and touch her body every day.

 

I can feel her eyes on me, watching every move I make. I love it when she watches me. I love what it does to her. I turn my head and my eyes catch hers. Instantly, her cheeks darken and her lips curl bashfully. Whatever she’s doing, it makes my body burn. I toss the rope to the side of the room and look at Darryl. I don’t even have to say it. He knows what I want. With a nod, he opens the door. “Everyone out.”

 

They all leave without protest and the room falls silent as the door closes behind them. Olivia’s chair scrapes against the concrete as she lifts herself from it. With a cautious inhale, she runs the palm of her hands over the thighs of her jeans.

 

“I like your shirt,” I tell her. “I look good on you.”

 

She smiles shyly, her cheeks warming as she recollects the line I used on her during that very first fight in Portland.

 

“Yes,” she replies, inching closer. “Yes, you do.”

 

Olivia tucks a thick strand of long, chocolate hair behind her ear. “Are you nervous?”

 

When she’s close enough, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer. “No.”

 

I stare down at her face, our eyes locked together. She sure is pretty… Having her close reminds me of the first fight she came to. We were so different back then, in a completely different place all together. She wanted nothing to do with me and I was desperately trying to get in her pants… and then I’d change my mind and try to get back out again. I was a dick, missing the commitment gene and she was the innocent girl unknowingly looking to find something redeemable about love. And she found it.

 

She nudges me. “What?”

 

The corner of my lip twitches upwards. “We’ve come so far, haven’t we?”

 

“Yeah.’ She chuckles under her breath. “I guess we have.”

 

“This is the last time we’re going to be in a room like this together… how do you feel?”

 

A small smile plays on her lips as she runs her hands up my arms, squeezing me through the fabric of my hoodie. “As long as I have you, I don’t care what room we’re in. How do you feel?”

 

Better now you’re touching me. “I feel… ready. I feel content.”

 

Her hands slide up over my shoulders and hook around my neck. She pulls me closer, slowly. As her lips graze mine, the door opens. She snaps away from me as a douchebag holding a camera aims it right at us. The light on the side is flashing red and Olivia refuses to look at it. If this were any other day, I’d take his camera and slam it against the concrete wall, but since it’s my last fight, I guess his camera can live to see another day.

 

“Time to go, Seth,” Jackson calls from behind the cameraman.

 

Well, there’s no way I’m going to miss out on my pre-fight kiss because of the camera. I snap forward and grab Olivia. As I pull her in, I press my hand to the camera lens, blocking the view as I crush my lips against hers. The guy tries to pull his camera free, so I squeeze on the thin metal tube holding the lens. Sure enough, it cracks and Olivia pulls away from me with a gasp.

 

“Oh my God, Seth,” she gasps, turning to the man. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Oh,” I gasp, mimicking her and letting go of his camera. “I’m so sorry.”

 

The cameraman’s glare deepens at my sarcasm and with a smirk, I snag Olivia’s wrist and push past him.

 

“I can’t believe you did that,” she snaps under her breath.

 

I laugh, slinging my arm over her shoulder. “Next time he’ll remember to knock.”

 

She huffs beside me, but I can’t stop smiling. I thought it was funny. Out in the hallway, I hear my music playing loudly. It flows through me, working me up into a ball of aggressive energy. I stop before the two large double doors and turn around. I pass Olivia to Jackson and rip off my hoodie. Darryl and a member of the MMAC I’ve never seen before start rubbing Vaseline over the sharp edges of my face. I hate the feel of the thick substance, but it’s better than getting cut across the eyebrow, that’s for sure. Darryl shoves my mouth guard in my mouth and the doors are pulled open. For the last time in my life a sea of people fill the arena before me and chant my name. Lights are flashing and posters with my name all over them are being held high. It’s a bitter sweet moment for me, so I take my time and absorb it all in…

 

…one last time.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Olivia

 

 

 

 

 

Darryl and Jackson nudge Seth, but he refuses to move. Instead, he watches the zealous crowd that screams his name. I peer past him and see Don waiting in the cage. On the distant T.V. they close in on his face, broadcasting his look of distaste all over the arena. He paces from side to side and bounces on his feet. I’ve never seen Don look so serious—he’s out for blood. Seth looks over his shoulder at Jackson and pulls out his mouth guard.

 

“Keep her safe,” he orders and Jackson wraps a strong arm around my waist, squeezing me to him.

 

Seth starts forward and the crowd goes insane. My eardrums, my stomach and my heart all threaten to combust. I’ll never get used to this. Ever. I stumble as Jackson pulls me along beside him. He keeps his head down and pulls me even closer as hands whip out to touch us. Fingers brush over my shoulder and through my hair as we thunder down the walkway and right up to the cage. When we’re there, the referee checks behind Seth’s ears, inside his mouth, and his gloves, and I smile as he passes the brief examination. Not a second later, he bounds up the stairs and into the cage. Once inside, neither Seth nor Don take their eyes off each other. I run my hands along the extra bit of flooring. The scream from the crowd cause the cage to vibrate and I wonder if it tickles the base of Seth’s feet like it does my fingers. The tingles set off by the floor of the cage course through my body—from my fingertips to my heart. My heart races, with each cell vibrating at their own speed. Never in my life have I been so excited for a fight. Never have I been as excited or as terrified as I am at this very moment.

 

I sit back in the small metal chair provided as the announcer stands in the middle of the ring. A microphone slowly drops in from the roof and he grabs it.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s gut-wrenching fight is about to commence.” A shiver rolls down my spine as he introduces both the contestants, making note of where they’re from and how much they weigh. The announcer goes into their hate-filled background, hyping up the audience more and more until they’re begging for blood.

 

With an introduction of the referee, the microphone is pulled back up to the roof, the announcer leaves, and the door is locked behind him. The crowd settles and I grip the edge of my seat. I wish I was in the crowd with Selena and I wish I had her shoulder to bury my face in. Seth and Don still their eager bodies… waiting for the bell to go. The wait turns into a small eternity and I’m not sure if the loud pounding in my ears is solely from my heart, or the hearts of everyone in this room thumping in time with each other.

 

Then the bell sounds and everyone jumps to their feet, including me. At the front, by the cage, is like being in the ocean. The currents control you—every scream and clap sends me closer to the cage until I’m standing by Jackson and Darryl. I’ve never been so close…

 

Don and Seth circle each other silently, trying to gauge which game the other is playing. Don is first to move. He growls impatiently and launches forward, driving Seth backwards with his fists. Seth keeps his hands up, blocking all that fly for his face, only missing one or two that collide with his ribs.

 

“Move!” I scream as Seth side steps and Darryl stumbles into the cage.

 

“Go!” Darryl shouts and Seth takes advantage of Don’s slip. He grabs his head and drives his knee right into the middle of Don’s face. “Yes! Again!”

 

Seth lines up for a second knee, but Don pushes forward, driving him back until they crash onto the canvas.

 

Under my hands the floor shakes, rattling my adrenaline-laced frame. I see it now… why my dad loved fighting so much. It’s invigorating—empowering… or at least it is until Don gets the upper hand on Seth and punches him in the mouth. My blood runs cold as Don smirks and pulls his arm back to hit him again.

 

“Your hips!” Jackson shouts. “Move your fucking hips!”

 

Seth flicks his hips, tossing Don off him and quickly jumps to his feet. Don recovers quickly too, and charges at Seth, swinging his arm with brute force. By some miracle, Seth dodges them all and drops low. He slams his fists into Don’s ribs and I hear the air being forced from his lungs every time Seth’s fists connect.

 

My own ribs ache as I watch. I stuff my fingers into my mouth, biting nervously on the nails. Seth bounces on his toes, ducking and dodging all of Don’s comeback hits. Catching a break, Don takes a step back to breathe and rethink his game. Seth has been training like crazy this time and he’s studied Don. He wants revenge, and what Seth Marc wants, Seth Marc gets. Don launches forward, diving at Seth’s legs. With a loud thud, Seth drops to his knees and sprawls, countering the take down. Don falls flat on his stomach. Seth jumps on his back and wraps his strong, thick arms around Don’s neck and pulls. Immediately, Don’s face darkens to a violent red, but he refuses to tap out. I lean even closer to the cage, until I can smell the baked vinyl the cage is dipped in. I can hear my own breath falling from my lips in heavy, quick pants. The referee gets in Don’s face. He’s talking to him and Don is shaking his head.

 

“Squeeze!” someone behind me screams. “Squeeze the fuck out of that asshole!”

 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Darryl shouts, slapping the canvas.

 

The bell sounds, lifting weight I didn’t know I had off my chest. The referee pulls Seth off of Don and he saunters back over to us.

 

“Dammit!” Jackson barks, slapping the wire. “Fuck!”

 

They grab a small blue stool and run for the cage door. I remain on this side of the cage as Seth drops onto his stool. He’s close now. So close I can see perspiration coat his skin. Even over the cheers, I can hear his heavy breathing. As they rub more Vaseline on him and give him small amounts of water, he peers over his shoulder. I zero in on the cut that splits his bottom lip. It’s bleeding and swollen. The sight fills my stomach with worry. I don’t like seeing him hurt, especially on his perfect face.

 

“How are you doing?” Seth shouts, smiling.

 

“Don’t worry about me. How are you doing?”

 

He flicks an eyebrow and grins confidently. “I almost had him.”

 

“Almost,” I repeat, fighting my own smile.

 

I have no doubt that Seth can beat Don… I just don’t want him getting too confident too soon. Who knows what Don has planned. The break ends quickly and before I know it, Jackson and Darryl are by my side and Seth is back on his feet.

 

The bell rings and Seth goes in immediately, ducking and dodging Don’s swings and punching him wherever he can. After taking an undoubtedly painful combo to the stomach, Don throws a punch, going for a quick right jab. My heart stops, stutters, and then starts up again as Seth dodges the punch, responding with a jab of his own, followed by a quick right uppercut to Don’s jaw. Seth is on top of his game tonight. All of his movements are planned, precise, and devastating, and I can’t wait to see Don crash to the canvas. Hit after hit they exchange, neither of them growing tired of beating the other. A minute into the round, Seth dives at Don and the two become a ball of limbs as they roll around, trying to get the drop on the other.

 

“Keep your shoulders up and arms away!” Jackson shouts.

 

As the round draws to a close, Seth gets the upper hand. He straddles Don, pushing down on his chest. Seth drops an elbow on his face and I gasp, feeling the blood drain from my own face as the sound of hard bone against bone echoes through my head. Seth drops another and another, splitting Don’s brow wider, until blood is running off the sharp edges of his face. The crowd goes insane at the sight of blood—desperate for more. Don raises his arm to push Seth off and his team screams for him to keep it down. Seeing the opportunity to end the fight, Seth grabs Don’s arm and wraps his legs around it, he falls back against the canvas, straightening Don’s arm out. Don’s face contorts in pain and I see his fingers twitch toward the canvas. Do it. Do it. Do it. I beg him.

 

I drag my stare from Don’s face to Seth’s. His face is void of any emotion and his brow is furrowed, like he’s trying to decide what to do. His eyes flick to mine and I inch closer to the cage, drawn to him like a magnet. Don groans in pain, the sound sending sympathy driving into the pit of my stomach. Then, Seth releases Don’s arm and jumps to his feet. I gasp—Jackson and Darryl gasp—the entire crowd gasps. What the hell is he doing? He had that in the bag!

 

Seth waits, giving a dazed Don time to get to his feet and then he shouts at him—words I can’t hear over the roar of the crowd. The whole stadium shakes under stomping feet and I grip the edge of the canvas. Don shakes his arms and lifts them to his face before charging at Seth like a rhino. They collide and crash to the ground once again. Neither of them attempt a submission, instead, they hit each other over and over, punch for punch. There is no style to this fight anymore, it’s just an old-fashioned street fight.

 

Jackson ‘whoops’ beside me and makes me jump. I look at Darryl, who squeezes his hair between his fingers, pulling hard.

 

“He’s ignoring the game plan,” he tells me, his face displaying his concern.

 

I look back to the fight—they’re on their feet now, classic boxing style, neither of them using their legs. Don sways uneasily, his face bloodied and cut. It drips into his eyes and he swipes it away, but the ref doesn’t call the fight. As Don throws a quick, heavy punch, Seth ducks and slams his fists into Don’s stomach. Don hunches and I see it in Seth’s face—the smirk on his lips—he’s going to finish it off. He pulls his arm back and the bell sounds. The referee jumps in, filling the space between Seth and Don.

 

As Seth walks over to us, Don falls to his knees. Like before, Jackson and Darryl run into the cage with a little blue stool and Seth drops onto it. They try to tend to him—try to cover him in more Vaseline and dab his cuts, but he isn’t having any of it. He turns on his chair and removes his mouthguard.

 

“How’d you like that round?” He pants, swiping wet hair from his forehead.

 

“You had it, why’d you stop?”

 

He shrugs. “Because I wanted to hurt him more.”

 

I grip the wire. “I don’t think he can take much more, Seth.”

 

“You want me to finish it?”

 

I nod and he smiles, turning back to his team. They put cloths on him, ice bags, Vaseline the lot and eventually, the referee calls for the team members to leave. I peer around Seth and over to Don. He looks like shit… one eyes is swollen shut. A huge chunk of Vaseline sits on his brow, preventing anymore blood from leaking into his eye.

 

The bell rings out one last time and Seth bounces forward. Both of the boys are tired—their movements much slower than the beginning of the match. Their faces show their exhaustion and I feel sorry for them—both of them. Seth lifts his hands to his face as Don throws his fists hard and fast, determined to get Seth in this final round. Don knows if this goes to the judges, he’s lost. He’s panicking—he desperately needs to knock Seth out. Watching it, watching him hit Seth relentlessly makes my blood boil. Seth blocks as many as he can, but a couple slip through, weakening his defense.

 

“Come on, Seth!” Darryl shouts. “Get out of the way!”

 

Seth plants a heavy foot and dips low. Don is thrown off balance and falters in his movement. That’s all Seth needs. I see his eyes narrow and his lips twitch right before he slams his fist into Don’s stomach. Don flinches, hunching slightly. Putting all of his strength into his right hand, Seth pulls back and slams his fist into Don’s face. Don’s tossed to the side, spitting blood all over the canvas. Seth hits him again, from the opposite side. More spit. More blood. The crowd goes ballistic as Don crashes to the canvas and ceases to move. The referee dives on Don and waves Seth off. The bell dings excitedly, announcing Seth’s victory. I clap my hands until they burn and then I clap even harder. Pride surges through my chest as Seth does an over-excited lap of the cage, shouting and cheering. The gate opens and floods with team members, doctors, and cameras. I finally let out the breath I’m sure I’ve been holding this entire time and relax against the cage.

 

Two and a half grueling rounds going punch for punch and finally, Seth came out on top by executing the perfect KO. Hearing the crowd scream for him sends a crackle of electricity through my body and I grind my teeth, fighting off a shudder that threatens my spine. Finally, he kicked Don’s ass. Finally, he gave him exactly what he deserved. As sad as it sounds, watching Don lie on the ground, dazed, lifts weight off my shoulders. Seth will never have to fight him again, and once we leave Vegas, I’m sure he’ll never have to see his face again. After this, I doubt he’ll hang around Portland anymore, at least not while Seth’s there, anyway.

 

I watch Seth be thrown backwards as Jackson and Darryl crash into him. He looks like he’s still too hopped up on adrenaline to hurt, but I suspect when his body cools down his muscles are going to fucking ache.

 

“You did it!” they shout, slapping him around.

 

Seth laughs and squeezes them to his body. He wouldn’t be able to do this without them. Team Seth, that’s what they are, and this final fight doesn’t mean it has to end now.

 

“Seth!”

 

His laugh fades and smile falters as Matt Somers beams at him from across the cage. He flicks his head and Darryl and Jackson let Seth go. Seth gives me a small, reassuring smile as he strolls over to Matt, the presenter, and six cameras that linger in front of him.

 

The presenter is handed a microphone to address the crowd. His shiny, gold ring stands out, glistening in the light provided by the rigging above as he pats down his messy, brown hair

 

“Wow,” he simply says and everyone screams their agreement. “That was intense. How are you feeling, Seth?”

 

“I feel good,” he replies with a smirk. “I feel great.”

 

“I know there was a lot of tension building up to this fight. On a few occasions you and Don Russell were gonna throw down outside of the ring, did that fuel your temper tonight?”

 

“It played a small part in my game tonight, but I’m a fighter. It’s my job to punch faces and knock people out and that’s exactly what I did.”

 

Matt Somers and the presenter chuckle at Seth and ignore Don, who’s sitting up now, getting checked over by at least three doctors. They don’t care about him… only Seth, the fighter who won the fight. What if Don won? Would they leave Seth alone on the canvas? Regardless of Don, what he stands for, and who he is, my heart breaks for him… no one deserves to be tossed away like garbage.

 

“What’s next for Seth Marc? If you could pick, who would you fight next?”

 

Seth’s gaze flicks over his shoulder and onto my face. There’s a message there that I can’t read.

 

“What’s next?” He ponders for a few seconds. “My wife is having a baby.”

 

More cheers ring out.

 

“And I’m going back home to Portland to run my gym. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

 

The spectators inhale sharply, almost unanimously before erupting into a fit of gossip. Matt Somers looks at Seth with a forced smile in place and the presenter tries to play it off.

 

“Don hit you a little too hard, Seth?” He laughs, stepping away from Matt and Seth. There’s an uneasy look in his eye as he searches the cage for something to switch to. When he spots Don sitting on the floor, he cuts over to him. Seth follows the presenter with his eyes, avoiding Matt’s awkward smile. Seth also spots Don, still on the floor, and he looks over at me. I nod my head, knowing he’s asking me if he should. My lips curl into an adoring smile as I watch Seth pull Don to his feet and shake his hand. No words are exchanged, but thankfully, no more punches are, either. My hubby is a good sport—a role model for other fighters. Don knows the winner has been decided. He knows there’s nothing else to prove.

 

Seth saunters from the cage and down the stairs. I pluck his hoodie off of the floor and hand it to him. He drapes it over his shoulders and laces his fingers with mine. I can feel his muscles tremble as I press my body to his while we walk. People pat him as we walk. They tell him that he did well and that they love him. He nods his response. His fingers tighten around mine, like he’s afraid someone is going to pull me from him, and they don’t relax until we’re alone in his room and the door is shut and locked.

 

I lean against the wall as he drops his hoodie to the floor and pulls down his shorts. My cheeks heat up at the sight of his naked backside. He reaches for a pair of scissors on the nearest chair and extends them to me, then pulls them back.

 

With a cheeky smile he asks, “Are you blushing?”

 

“You took your pants off,” I reply, forcing my eyes to stay on his face. “Of course I’m blushing.”

 

I glance at the scissors in his gloved hands. “You want me to cut them off?”

 

“New rule.” He chuckles. “You can’t say sentences like that when I’m naked. It makes me nervous.”

 

“Noted.” I laugh, taking the scissors from his hand. He extends his gloves to me and I cut them straight up the middle, freeing his hands.

 

He launches forward, his hot, bare hands cupping my face. My breath hitches as I press myself as hard as I can against the wall to avoid him rubbing Don’s blood into my clothes.

 

“I heard you, you know.”

 

My breath, quick and nervous, clashes with his. “You heard me what?”

 

“Shouting—encouraging me.”

 

“Move!” I scream as Seth side steps and Darryl stumbles into the cage. I feel my lips pull into a smile as I recall it. “I guess I did.”

 

He kisses the corner of my mouth really softly. It’s the kind of soft, teasing kiss that makes me want to grip his face and force him to kiss me harder. He releases my face and turns away from me. I watch his glorious back until he disappears behind the shower door. He showers for at least twenty minutes and I expect someone to bang on the door or kick it down by now, but no one does and I wait patiently, listening to the soothing sound of water crashing against tiles. A minute later, Seth steps out with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. The sight of his clean, tan skin dries my throat. He leans against the wall opposite me, and without a word from him, I walk closer to him.

 

“I’m sore all over…” He smirks, his dark eyes flaring brightly. When I get within reach, he pinches my shirt and tugs me closer. “I want you to fix me.”

 

Heat sears down my spine and pools between my thighs as he presses me against his warm, wet body. If nobody knocks on the door in the next twenty seconds, shit is going to get real dirty, real quick. I crave him. I crave to show him how much I love him, to temporarily heal his body with my own.

 

“How do I fix you?” I whisper, my throat dry and my voice husky.

 

“A kiss is a good start.” He dips his head and I’m paralyzed, unable to move away or closer.

 

As his lips graze mine, the door is unlocked from the outside and opened. Seth lifts his head, his eyebrows pulling together.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Seth? How dare you pull that bullshit!” Matt booms, throwing something around the room. It bounces off the wall and crashes onto a table, knocking over bottles of protein shakes. Seth shifts, tucking me behind his large frame. “You’re under contract. You can’t fucking leave!”

 

I peer around Seth’s body and Darryl throws him his jeans. Without a word Seth pulls them on and throws the towel to the side. My chest is tight as I anxiously wait it out.

 

“I’ll take care of this asshole, Seth,” Darryl tells him as Jackson slips into the room. “You go home and sleep off the fight.”

 

With a nod, Seth turns and scoops me up into his arms. I’m quite impressed he’s still able to move them after a fight like that.

 

“No!” Matt yells. “You can’t fucking leave! I have your signature down on a Goddamn contract!”

 

Ignoring him, Seth starts for the door, but Matt charges forward, ready to block us. Before he makes the door, Jackson slams his body into him, leaving room for us to leave.

 

“Bye, Matt!” I say, wrapping my arms around Seth’s neck and giggling like an idiot.

 

“Look after my boy, Olivia.” Darryl calls out and I smile at him over Seth’s shoulder.

 

“I always do.”

 

Seth squeezes me against his body and kisses my neck.

 

“Where were we?” he asks, grazing the tips of his lips across my cheek.

 

“Kissing,” I say without hesitation. I turn my head and softly press my lips to his cut. “I was going to fix you.”

 

People stare at us as we walk and kiss, but it’s nothing new. Before Seth, I avoided all forms of public affection. I realize now that it was because I was afraid that people would see through the charade that was my relationship with Blade. I was afraid that people would see that I didn’t love him.

 

With Seth, it’s different. I kiss him in public with everything I have because I’m not afraid anymore, and over the course of our relationship, I learned one thing; you should endeavor to find the one person you’re comfortable with. You should go out of your way to find someone who makes you smile at the same time they make you mad. You should find someone who doesn’t give you ultimatums, but is willing to grow with you and not for you. The right person for you will grow because they want to, not because you want them to. You should find someone who knows exactly how to make it up to you when they make mistakes—and remember, everyone makes mistakes.

 

No one should settle for less.

 

Everyone deserves their own Seth.