My alarm buzzed the next morning to wake me from my sleep. I looked around lazily when I realized it was still pitch black out, which was unusual for the time I woke up in the mornings.

Looking at my clock on the nightstand I realized it was not morning, it was close to 2am, and the sound I was hearing was not my alarm, but my ringtone.

I answered the phone without even looking at the ID.

"hello?" I asked sleepily.

"Adelaide?"

I pulled the phone away from ear to see who it was, but there was no contact name, it was just a number with my area code.

I pulled the phone back to my ear, "who is this?" I asked, slightly more alert than before.

"It's Tristan, look I need your help, are you home?"

He said his name and my body jolted awake and I reached over to flip my lamp light on, "Tristan? Of course I'm home it's almost 2am. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. Listen I know this sounds crazy, but can I come over? Right now?"

It did sound crazy. Very crazy. But I heard his tone, it sounded something both exhausted and urgent at the same time. He wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night if it wasn't important. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have called at any time of the day if it wasn't important.

So before I could overthink it I replied, "Okay."

"Great. Because I'm already here."

And then I jumped at the sound of tapping from my bedroom window.

I got up out of bed, walked over to my window, and saw Tristan leaning over himself, clutching his stomach. He looked up to give me a big toothy smile, only it came out more of a grimace and his teeth were covered in blood.

"what the hell." I whispered and then unlocked my window to let him inside. He nearly collapsed inside. I reached for him and slung his arm over my shoulder for support. We struggled over to the chair by my vanity desk and he dropped himself on it.

"Tristan what happened?"

"The landlord finally came by." He said and adjusted himself with a grunt of pain.

"What really happened?" I deadpanned.

"What really happened is that I need a place to crash because I can't go home like this... and I might also need some ice for this." He lifted his shirt to reveal a big blooming bruise on his torso.

I gasped at how colorful it was slowly becoming, it looked painful. I looked up at him with question written all over my face but he just looked at me.

"I'll get some ice." I left him on the chair while I made my downstairs and to the freezer. I tried to move as quietly as I possibly could. I wouldn't know how to explain this to dad or Carson.

I filled a freezer bag with ice cubes and poured a bowl full of lukewarm water. On my way back to my room, I also grabbed a small towel from the closet by my bedroom.

I almost opened my door when another thought occurred to me. I silently placed the things down before making my way to the laundry room. As I predicted, Carson had left his clean clothes in the dryer.

They were about the same build, Tristan just had a few inches to Carson's height. I grabbed a t-shirt and some sweats before climbing back up the stairs and regathering everything I had before.

When I came back to my room, Tristan was still sitting there. He had his head leaned back and his eyes were closed tightly.

"Here. I brought a change of clothes too." I handed him the ice bag first and he lifted his shirt once again to press the cold on his injuries. He slowly let out the breath he had been holding.

I was frowning at him the whole time, thinking about what he could have gotten himself into. I had been thinking about it for a while now actually.

I remembered the party we went to where I watched him fight. How his feet swiped rapidly around the floor. How he swung his arm almost gracefully through every punch.

I thought back even farther to that second day in detention when I saw his beaten up knuckles and how maybe it had more to do than just a high school scuffle.

Just yesterday Tate said to me that he had a fight Saturday night, this was Saturday.

I looked up at Tristan again. I moved the bowl onto the vanity table beside him and soaked the towel in the water I had prepared.

I crouched down in front of him and brought the towel to his mouth, gently wiping the area around his lips and cleaning the blood away from his skin.

I was extra careful on the gash that was fresh on his bottom lip, dabbing it instead of wiping.

I looked up at him and realized he had been watching me the whole time and although that made me all warm and fuzzy on the inside, I was determined to get answers tonight.

I squinted my eyes in thought and he caught on to my sudden shift in mood, "Tristan."

He squinted back in a mocking manner, "Adelaide."

I rolled my eyes, "this is time for serious questions and serious answers, you hear me?"

He took a deep breath but didn't say anything to stop me from continuing.

"First of all, you're not as slick as you think you are," he raised his eyebrows at this but didn't interrupt me, "I've been thinking about everything I've seen and everything I've heard. I'm looking at you right now," I motioned to the bag of ice that he was holding against his abdomen, "and I don't know if you're aware of this but I'm not stupid Tristan. So... no more bullshit."

He held his eye contact with me, shifting tightly in his chair. His jaw clenched and I couldn't tell if it was because he was in pain or he was frustrated with this conversation, maybe both.

It was a moment of silence while he watched me in thought until his voice broke the quiet, "you ask the right questions, I'll give you the honest answers."

I nodded my head. "Okay, then I have one very important question," and I think I stopped breathing before I asked, "are you a street fighter?"

"No." He said sincerely and I let my breath out in relief.

"I'm an underground fighter."

"Oh what the fu-"