by Aly Martinez
“Okay. I’ll stay.” I said simply before settling next to him. My parents weren’t going to worry if I didn’t come home, but I’d worry about Till waking up in time if I left. “You know if you ever need . . .” He interrupted me before I could offer any assistance.
“Night, Doodle.” He rolled away, halting all further conversation.
Eventually, I fell asleep. We weren’t cuddled up next to each other the way I would have preferred the first time we ever slept together, but after a terrible night, I still fell asleep with cheeks that were sore from smiling.
Even at seventeen I knew I loved Till Page, but I didn’t have grand dreams of how perfect our lives would be together. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. But I think it was more because I didn’t want to face the fact that there was a future at all—one that may or may not have included him. I just wanted to live with Till in the present where there was no pressure to pretend to be anyone else. A present where I kept his stomach full of canned foods, and he kept me warm and needed. I scratched his head, and he healed my heart.
One day they were going to knock down that building and snatch that life away from us. But with a half boy half man snoring loudly beside me, I was blissfully blinded by the present.
THE DAY I FOUND ON The Ropes boxing gym, my life changed forever. I had been going to high school, working two jobs, and spending almost all of my paychecks to keep a roof over my brothers’ heads. I’d walked past that old vacant building every day on my way to and from my job at the grocery store. Then, one day, there were about twenty trucks outside and workmen covering the sidewalk. I didn’t give it much thought as I passed, but I swear, by the time I went home that night, there was a brand-new gym complete with decaled windows.
The next day at school, they passed out fliers advertising a new after-school program at On The Ropes. It contained my favorite word in the English language: free. Rumors were flying around that the former professional heavyweight champion Slate “The Silent Storm” Andrews owned the gym and would be personally running the program. Half the school had plans to enroll just to meet him.
In those days, I liked to keep myself as busy as possible. But when football season was over, I was left with entirely too much time between school and when Eliza would show up at the apartment. I sure as shit didn’t want to spend that time at the piss pot my parents called home—the same one I was working two jobs to pay for since they couldn’t get their shit together.
A free boxing program sounded like the perfect fit.
I decided to skip chemistry to scope it out and, hopefully, secure my spot before the after-school rush hit.
“Well, that was fast,” Slate fucking Andrews said from the front desk as I entered the gym.
The place was amazing. Everything was new and crisp white, red, and black. Two rings stood in the middle of the huge, open room, weights and various types of punching bags filling the rest. Mirrors covered the length of the room on one side, and jump ropes were hanging from hooks in every corner. But my eyes were instantly drawn to the giant words painted in script above the mirrors:
“Your name going in that blank?” he asked when he followed my gaze.
“Uh . . .”
“Okay, maybe we should start with: what’s your name?” He pulled a clipboard from behind the tall, wooden counter.
“Um . . .” I continued to stutter, starstruck.
He chuckled and extended a hand. “Slate Andrews.”
I wiped my palm on my jeans before lifting it to his. “Sorry. Till Page.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Till.” He pushed the clipboard in front of me. “Our gym rates are as stated, depending on the membership plan you choose. We have yearly, monthly—”
“Oh, um, sorry. I thought it was free.” I looked up, embarrassed.
“Free?” His eyebrow quirked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah. I mean the after-school program. Sorry. I must have been confused. I can’t afford to join a gym.” I stepped away, ready to bolt.
“You’re a student?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s yes, sir.” Then he motioned for me to repeat it.
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded approvingly. “Christ you’re big for a kid. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Play football?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Senior?”
“Junior,” I corrected.
He gave me a quick head-to-foot scan and shook his head. “All right, then. Let me switch that out for you.” After pulling out a thick, manila envelope from the drawer, he slid it in my direction. “Why aren’t you in school right now, Till Page?”
“I don’t have class last hour,” I lied.
“So, can I expect you here at two every day, then? Ya know, since you don’t have class last hour?” He gave me a knowing smirk that read: busted.
“Well—,” I started but he cut me off.
“You miss school, you don’t come here. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I answered quickly, but he glared at me. “I mean, yes, sir.”
“Better. Look, this program is for kids with integrity. Lying to me will land your ass on the street. So let’s try this again. Why aren’t you in school right now, Till Page?”
I uncomfortably looked down at my shoes. “I, uh, wanted to enroll in the program. I was worried it would fill up before I got a spot, so I skipped class.”
“Okay. You owe me three miles.” He walked to a filing cabinet before returning with a neon-yellow piece of paper.
“Three miles of what?”
“Cardio! We have our own punitive system here at On The Ropes. Skipping class is three miles. Just be glad it was only one. Skipping a whole day earns you hand-washing jockstraps.” He laughed as I curled my lip in disgust. “It’s all outlined right there. As well as the membership fees.”
I tilted my head in confusion, “I thought the afterschool program was free. I just told you I can’t afford gym fees!” My attitude slipped.
His whole friendly demeanor disappeared. He was glowering at me, and even as tough as I pretended to be, it still scared the fuck out of me.
I amended the end of my outburst. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to pay me with cash, so technically, it is free. Don’t worry. I had a lawyer look over that flier before passing out. No false advertising here.” He winked. “Manual labor is my currency of choice. The back of that”—he nodded down at the paper—“outlines the fees for your time spent here. Everything from sweeping the floors to cleaning the toilets, right down to folding towels, is on there. It also outlines the price of meals in manual labor as well. You need something to eat? I’ll feed you. But it’s not a handout. You’ll work for that too.”
“Meals?” I asked, more than just a little interested.
“Yep. You’ll probably think they are nasty as hell. Real healthy stuff. Good for your body. I’m training fighters, not slouches.”
“Oh, okay,” I responded while scanning the “price chart.”
Slate had figured out the “cost” for everything from just hanging out at the gym after school to private one-on-one boxing lessons with him. You could “buy” workout clothes or your own gloves with extra jobs as well.
Jesus. He was running a sweatshop, but that was all right with me.
“Max ten hours a week. You do those ten hours then everything opens up to you free of charge: meals, training, summer program, one set of workout clothes a month. And that even comes with my promise to keep my mouth shut when I find you crying about your sore muscles in the locker room.” He smiled.
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not going to bullshit you. I expect hard work in and out of that ring. You go to school and then come here. That’s it.”
“I work two jobs,” I informed him.
“Fine. You go to school, work, then On The Ropes. Nothing else.”<
br />
That sounded perfect. Well, nothing else except Eliza. Not even professional training with Slate Andrews would stop me from making time to spend with her.
After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “So, you still interested in joining?”
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
“Well, okay, then. Take that packet home and get your parents to sign all the Xs and I’ll see you tomorrow after school. Now, go ahead and hit the track out back.”
“The track?” I questioned.
“You owe me three miles, remember?”
“I’m wearing jeans,” I responded, incredulous.
“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before skipping class.” He walked away without another backward glance.
One year later . . .
A STRICTLY FORBIDDEN BULLHORN BLASTED through the silent auditorium as my name was called to receive my high school diploma. While I never actually saw him, I had not one doubt that it was Till. I burst out laughing as my stomach twisted. It bothered me more than I’d expected that he wasn’t walking across that stage with me.
Till’s life had been busy. He’d been spending a lot of time at a nearby boxing gym as well as working two jobs: cleaning up after construction crews and stocking shelves at the grocery store. Even with all of that, he still never missed a single night at our apartment. He did, however, miss ninety percent of his math and physics homework, thus having failed both, which left him unable to graduate. He’d acted like it didn’t bother him when he’d been told that he didn’t have enough credits to walk across the stage with the rest of our class, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. He’d laughed it off, saying that it wasn’t like he had any huge plans to go off to a big-name college or anything.
I, however, had been accepted to the local university on a scholarship. I’d decided to take out every possible student loan I could get and move out of my parents’ apartment. Till had laughed when I’d proposed a betting pool to see how long it would take them to notice that I was gone. I bet a decade. He chose a week.
I waited outside the auditorium after graduation was over, looking for Till, but deep inside I knew there was only one place I’d find him.
“Hey,” he said, crawling through the window. He froze just as his large body cleared the opening. “Holy hell! Look at you, Doodle. You’re in a dress.” He smiled a lopsided grin that would have melted other girls. For me, it sizzled.
“See? Just further proof of how messed up the educational system is in this country. I have no idea how they didn’t allow you to graduate today with observational skills like those.”
“Shut up, smartass. I’ve just never seen you in a dress before.”
“Yeah, I didn’t feel like going home to change. My mom was already complaining about having to go to my graduation today.”
“Jesus, that woman is a bitch,” he mumbled to himself. “Well, you look good. Those college boys aren’t going to know what to do with themselves.” His mouth twisted into something he expected me to believe was a grin.
I didn’t fall for it, but I knew why it was there. “Yeah, I’ve heard average-looking accounting majors who like to draw and paint are all the rage right now.”
His eyes narrowed at my assessment.
“However, on the off chance that I do find someone who appreciates my undeniable awesomeness, I’d still have to explain why some guy is always hanging out at my new apartment.” I waggled my eyebrows excitedly.
“You got an apartment?” His whole face scrunched up into a painful grimace before he was able to catch it.
“Yep!”
“Which one?”
“Um . . .”
“Which. One?” he repeated slowly, knowing the answer from my reaction alone.
“The one you didn’t like.” I bit my lip and looked away.
“Doodle, that one was shit. You can’t live there. It’s dangerous.”
“Well, it’s kinda my only option at this point. It’s all I can afford without selling off my organs. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty attached to my kidneys.”
“Come on. Be serious,” he chastised in a very unlike-Till way. The crinkle on his forehead was unnatural and looked out of place on his strong face.
Till was no longer a boy in any respect. He stood at six foot four, and every plane of his body was covered with chiseled edges and contoured muscles. His hands were large and callused like a working man well past his eighteen years. Boys didn’t look like that. Men did. Till did.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the changes in Till either. There was no shortage of women vying for his attention. But if they were lucky enough to catch it, I didn’t know. He always brushed my questions about his romantic relationships off. I’d eventually given up and stopped asking. I didn’t really want to know the answer anyway.
He cleared his throat to catch my attention, but it only drew my gaze to his throat. I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. It was a spectacular show I could barely drag my eyes off. And when I did, it was only to move down to the thick muscles at the base of his neck.
“Hello? Earth to Doodle.” He waved a hand in front of my face.
I stuttered for a moment before remembering what we were talking about. “Till, my student loans won’t take me far. Plus, I have to pay for utilities and crap. Not to mention buying books and supplies. That stuff is expensive. Even if I increased my hours at The Smokehouse, I wouldn’t be able to eat half the time if I picked one of the other apartments. It’s not that bad, and this way, I can afford the one bedroom.” I grinned proudly.
“Oh, fucking fantastic. You’re going to be living there alone,” he snapped then began to pace a small circle.
“Hey.” I stepped in front of him. “If I have my own place, we can ditch this one and start hanging out there.” I smiled, excited about the possibility.
Till blankly stared at me.
“Um, hello! This is a good thing. Did you hear me?” I asked.
He barked out a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Yep. Loud and fucking clear.” He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed me for a second longer. “You’re not living there,” he stated definitively, causing me to copy his earlier reaction and bark out a loud, sarcastic laugh of my own.
“Oh, I’m not?” I lifted an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking him. I had a sneaking suspicion my glare wasn’t nearly as effective as his, but I held his eyes anyway.
We must have stood there for a full five minutes. I wasn’t even sure that I blinked. By the time Till’s lip twitched at the ridiculousness of our stare-off, I couldn’t contain it anymore and burst out laughing, collapsing to the pillows on the floor.
I used a deep voice to mock his as I rolled around in hysterics, saying, “Doodle, you’re not living there.”
He wasn’t impressed by my uncanny impression.
Finally, I was able to collect myself enough to glance up at him. I fully expected him to be pissed, but he was watching me with a wide smile.
God, he is gorgeous.
“You done?” he asked with a twinkle of something I couldn’t quite figure out in his eyes.
“I don’t know. Are you done telling me where I’m allowed to live?” I tilted my head questioningly.
He sucked in a breath before releasing it with a hard sigh. “I just worry about you living alone. It’s not like your dad’s going to get off his sorry ass and be there to make sure nothing happens to you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.” He put his hands on his hips, and if it weren’t for the fact that I was irritated by his attitude, I would have at least taken a minute to ogle his biceps.
Instead, I focused on the aforementioned attitude. “News flash. I don’t need anyone to make sure nothing happens to me. I’m a big girl, Till.”
“Right. Of course you are.” He let out a frustrated groan and rolled his eyes. “Can we just stop talking about this shit? I got you a gradua
tion present.” He headed back toward the window.
“You got me a present!” I squealed. All of my annoyance disappeared.
He had given me a lot of things throughout the years. Most of them were things he found for the apartment when people moved from the building or, more often, got evicted. I loved them nonetheless.
“Well, kinda. I actually made you a present.”
“You made me a present! That’s even better!” I flew to my feet, and he started laughing at my enthusiasm.
“Well, I got to thinking a few days ago. What the hell are you gonna do when I’m not there to hold your sketchpad on my chest while you draw?” he asked with a huge grin, but it deflated mine.
“Why wouldn’t you be there to hold my sketchpad?”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was trying to say, but it still hurt. I went to great lengths not to think about the prospect of Till not being a part of my future. He had been a constant in the present for way too long.
“Oh, come on, Doodle. You’re getting your own apartment halfway across town. You won’t have time to chill with me every night in this shithole.”
“Are you kidding me? Yes, I will.”
“Here?” he questioned, and even to my ears, his voice was a little too hopeful.
“Well, I mean . . . Maybe not here, but we’ll be somewhere together, absolutely.”
His eyes lit for a split second before dimming completely. “Yeah. I’m sure. Did you know that that new apartment of yours is five miles from here? That’s one hell of a daily hike for two people who don’t have a car,” he smarted off before turning back toward the window.
“So what? I’m moving closer to my college, five miles away. It’s not like I’m moving across the country. I’m fully expecting you to help me find a couch and then sit on it every night!” I shouted with a laugh as tears welled in my eyes.
He thought I was leaving. The idea of Till hurting was far worse than the idea of me sitting on a couch without him. And it should be known that that idea hurt pretty damn bad.
“Right.” He tossed me a patronizing smile. “When are you leaving?”
“Tonight if you don’t stop acting like a dick.” I tried to sound stern, but the tears fell from my eyes.