Spent - Part 1 (Spent, a New Adult Romance, MMA Series) Read Free Page A

I play along.  

    “Are you flirting with me, Mister Baptiste?”  

    “Maybe. Depends on what I get for it later,” he says, matter-of-factly.  

    Cameron sighs, “You’re selflessness is awe inspiring, Derrick,” she mutters without ever looking up from her book. The way her glasses are perched at the end of her nose makes her look like an old school marm.  

    Derrick looks at me with a confused look on his face, “Was that a compliment?”  

    “Sure, baby,” I pat his hand.  

    Derrick nods his head and grins, “Thanks, Cameron.”

    “What a mook,” Cameron mutters under her breath.  

    I glare at her from the visor mirror. She waves at me with a stupid smile on her face. I roll my eyes at her, silently chuckling to myself. Derrick can be dense at times. He usually makes up for it in the bedroom, but that’s been lacking more and more as of late.  

    The parking lot is packed when we arrive at the stadium. The match isn’t for another three hours, but people are already lining up to watch the action. It must be a fairly important fight, I determine, after I see camera and news crews setting up in the parking lot.  

    Derrick pulls into the parking area designated for fighters and trainers. He parks as close to one of the camera crews as he can. I look at Cameron through the visor mirror. One of her eyebrows is arched, her expression reading that of disapproval. I shrug my shoulders, trying to pretend like I have no clue what he’s doing, even though I know exactly why he’s parking by them.  

    Even though Derrick is a fairly low-ranking MMA fighter, he is well on his way to being near the top. He’s aggressive, in the best shape of his life, and he brawls as if he doesn’t have anything to lose. The few times I have been to his fights that have had news coverage, he’s always tried to get them to do an interview with him. He’s young, impulsive, and mutilates his competition, all of which are qualities that the media loves to cover. Derrick’s trainer has always referred to his insistence with getting news coverage as ‘marketing’, but I can tell from the look on Cameron’s face that, to the general population, Derrick just comes across as a snob.  

    I glance around at the reporters. They’re the main reason behind why I stopped going to Derrick’s events in the first place. The trouble they go through to make your life miserable while just trying to build up a professional career has always been off putting for me. Then again, I remind myself, this is a fairly hypocritical train of thought coming from someone who works for a newspaper. But in the years that I have worked for the sports section of the university paper, I have always managed to avoid degradation and defamation; qualities that many of the reporters here tend to lack.  

    “Hey baby, Cameron and I will head on in and meet up with you when you’re done talking to the reporters.”

    “Yeah, cool,” Derrick mutters while surveying the area, likely trying to figure out which person with a camera to try to schmooze first.  

    Cameron and I wait for a little while inside the car after Derrick has walked out, making certain that none of the reporters realize that we’re associated with him. There isn’t anything a good news writer loves more than to interview a rising athletes fuck partners. I’m not at all keen on the idea of having my name plastered on MMA sites, detailing how I’m Derrick Baptiste’s baby mama or one night stand that turned out to be a man.  

    Sneaking out of my SUV, Cameron and I make a break for the auditorium back doors that are reserved for the competitors and their trainers. I’ve gotten to know quite a few of the trainers and other fighters over the course of the year that Derrick and I have been together, so I’ve never had a problem getting in through the back entrance.  

    Big Mike is standing guard at the entrance of the back door. His hulking body puts many of the heavyweight