Ryan, in Jackson's mind, had a few descriptions: MMA fighter, high school student, and millionaire.
All these aspects made them become friends after Jackson fought Ryan in one of his many illegal tournaments and beat him.
"Ryan, your friend's here."
Ryan, who had been training his muscles, saw a boy his height walking toward him.
Behind Jackson, Devon looked around curiously at this place, which seemed to be a private gym where people with a lot of money could train without being bothered.
"Do you want to fight?" Ryan smiled as he put down what he was doing and walked toward Jackson in a challenging manner.
"If you want to be the best, you have to beat the best, and you're still far from that." Jackson looked directly into Ryan's eyes, who seriously stopped just a few centimeters away from him.
Devon, standing at the side, froze, thinking: Weren't they supposed to be friends?
Ryan's friends approached, looking serious, and this made Devon feel intimidated. But when she looked at Jackson's calm face, without a trace of fear, she inexplicably felt safe.
"Those were my words," Ryan said, and after a few seconds of silence, he began to laugh and shook Jackson's hand, who then smiled as well.
The others moved away with smiles, leaving the duo to talk.
"You're back, brother. When will you start coming to the club again?" Ryan hadn't noticed Devon until now.
Jackson smiled and said, "Maybe next time. But I have a question—are you still a bastard?"
"I have to be. If I stopped that, I wouldn't know how to have fun, and I'd leave all the fun to bastards like you." Ryan walked toward a cooler, grabbed some drinks—some energy drinks and some alcoholic—and only then noticed Devon, who was looking at a punching bag.
Jackson, at his side, finally reacted and introduced her: "Oh, this is Devon, my friend."
"Your friend?" Ryan looked curious. Jackson had just moved, so meeting a female friend while having a girlfriend wasn't exactly typical of him.
"Yes, don't think of her as just any other girl. She has a character no one else has."
Devon greeted from a distance and then started walking around the place.
"Hey, man, if she's your new girlfriend, you can tell me. Between us, nothing others think matters." Ryan leaned closer to Jackson, hinting that he wanted him to share his secrets.
But Jackson simply took the water bottle from him and sat on a bench, then asked, "Are there new fighters?"
"There are fighters from every damn country. Immigration gives us the chance to break faces from different nationalities." Ryan sat in front of Jackson and said, "We're organizing a party."
"Guests?" Jackson knew that party was also a mixed martial arts tournament where fighters from many places tended to show up.
Ryan looked around and said, "They're Canadians. Lots of good sponsors will be there looking for talent."
"I won't fight."
"Why?" asked Devon, who had heard the conversation.
Ryan, surprised by what he'd just heard, joined Devon and asked, "Yeah, why?"
"I have nothing to prove." Jackson would be fighting without any real meaning.
"Listen to me, think about it, and if you still don't want to, just come to the party with your girlfriend and enjoy the night's fights." Ryan didn't need to tell Jackson where it would be, and before Jackson could refuse, he left because he had a sparring session.
Devon looked at Jackson and said, "I can see you like fighting. Want some advice? Don't walk away from the things that still make you feel alive."
"I'll think about it. For now, let's get out of here." Jackson felt it had been a bad idea to visit his friend Ryan.