Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance

by Claire Adams

  “Ash,” I say, smiling and lightly grabbing her hands, “he got one good kick to the leg and I blocked or dodged everything else. I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. “What do you want to do tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. “It’s been a while since we’ve had your place to ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” she says, coming a little closer and taking a sniff, “I think you should shower before we do anything else.”

  “All right,” I laugh. “Care to join me?”

  She smiles, but shakes her head. “I’ll get a movie set up,” she says. “You look pretty tired.”

  “That sounds perfect,” I tell her.

  I set my bag down and head to the bathroom while Ash looks over her movie collection.

  The shower is nice, relaxing, but by the time I get out, I can barely keep my eyes open.

  I dry myself and get dressed, “borrowing” a bit of Ash’s deodorant as I didn’t bother to pack any in my bag before I left for the fight, and I shuffle my way back to the living room.

  Ash is sitting back on the couch with a large bowl of buttered popcorn and I sit next to her, leaning all the way back and letting gravity and the couch beneath me do the work of holding me upright.

  “Feel better?” she asks, but I’m halfway to sleep.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “Never mind,” she says. “Just sit back and I’ll get the movie going.”

  That’s about the last thing I remember before losing the battle against sleep.

  * * *

  When my eyes open again, they’re greeted with another pair about an inch away from my face.

  “I think he’s awake,” the strange woman in front of me calls out loudly. “Have you been travelling the realms?” she asks.

  Despite her unnerving proximity, I still have to ask, “Are you talking to me?”

  The woman stands up straight and says, “You need more kale in your diet. It’ll help you stay sharp in the morning.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her.

  I take a quick glance around, finding Jana standing over the sink, pouring herself a glass of water. Ash isn’t in the room.

  “Where’s Ash?” I ask.

  “Such a silly name for a beautiful young goddess, don’t you think?” the woman who can only be Starbright asks.

  From Ash’s descriptions of Jana’s mother, I was expecting paisley and peace signs, but the only outward indication of Starbright’s eccentricity is the vivid purple and pink hair.

  “She had to run to the store,” Starbright says. “We were out of hummus.”

  “I love hummus,” I say, not knowing how else to respond.

  “Great,” she says. “You should stick around. Have you ever had your palms read?”

  I rub my eyes.

  “No,” I answer.

  “Well, I charge twenty for a full reading, ten for an overview, but since you’re practically family, I think I could cut you a discount if you’d like.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I tell her, making my way to my feet, hoping it’s not too obvious how uncomfortable I am right now.

  “All right,” Starbright says, “full price, then. I do appreciate those who appreciate things,” she says and she’s staring at me as if she’s looking for some sort of approval.

  “Me too,” I say, slowly making my way toward my bag and then, or so the plan goes, the door.

  Jana’s mom seems nice enough, but she’s a little intense for my tastes. She’s just glaring at me.

  “When was the last time you had your aura cleansed?” she asks.

  “Mom,” Jana calls, “Ash made you promise not to do that in the apartment anymore after you spilled your frankincense all over the couch and burned holes in the cushions.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to use the frankincense,” Starbright says. “I’m going to use sandalwood.”

  “It’s not going to matter,” Jana warns, but seems resigned that her mom’s not going to listen to her.

  “Really,” I tell Starbright, “I’m fine.”

  “Have you ever studied demonology?” she asks, and I can’t begin to describe my relief when I hear the key entering the front door lock.

  The door opens and Ash walks in, carrying five large grocery bags in her hands, saying, “Would you guys mind helping me bring the rest of this stuff in? There are like ten more bags out there.”

  “I thought you were just going to the store to get hummus,” I say as I almost rush to Ash and throw my arms around her, causing her to drop a couple of the bags.

  “Everything all right?” she asks quietly.

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “You’re back, just don’t leave me alone with that woman again. She’s asking me if I’m into demons.”

  “Demonology, actually,” Starbright corrects.

  The woman has spectacular hearing.

  “What’s the difference?” Jana asks.

  “What time is it?” I mouth to Ash.

  “Three,” she mouths back.

  “Well,” Starbright says behind me, “demonology is the study of demons, rituals associated with them, how to banish and exorcise them—it’s a complete field of study.”

  “Bed?” I mouth.

  Ash smiles.

  “Sure,” she says at her normal volume. “Help me get these bags in the house and everything put away and we can do whatever you want.”

  I give Ash another squeeze, but start for the car when Starbright starts chanting in some ancient or made-up language. If I understand the context right, I think she’s calling upon the forces of the underworld to step in and take in her share of the groceries.

  Then again, I could be wrong. I know exactly nothing about that sort of thing.

  Chapter Ten

  Pendulum

  Ash

  After waking up to the smell of burning cabbage, Mason and I made the immediate decision to spend the morning at his house. Now, alone again, things are finally back to the way they have been since he and I talked.

  I sit, facing Ash at the breakfast table. Everything’s going so smoothly, everything’s so peaceful and then there’s a pounding on the front door.

  “I’ll be right back,” he tells me quietly as he gets up from his seat.

  He goes around the corner, through the living room and to the front door. I hear it unlock.

  “Why’re you locking me outta my own house?” Chris yells as the door opens. “Hey, um, I decided to invest that money you gave me instead of just blowing it on liquor, only I think things aren’t going so well.”

  “I gave you a hundred bucks, Chris,” Mason says. “How did you turn that into someone wanting to track you down?”

  “People have this weird thing with me,” Chris says. “You going to get outta my way so I can come in or what?”

  “I trusted you, Chris,” Mason tells him. “I knew it was stupid. I knew it was a mistake, but I trusted you. I gave you one last chance to prove that you’re not just everyone’s leech and you blew it.”

  I’m out of my seat and as close to the wall as I can get without betraying my presence.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” Chris says. “I know you’re stressin’ about money and all that, and I just wanted to tell you that if you could spot me like another Benny, I can get that first hundred back, plus interest. Come on, man,” he says. “One door closes, another one—”

  The door slams, and I hear it lock.

  Chris is pounding on the wood again, calling, “I get that. That’s funny! Now come on and let me in, man. You don’t know what kind of night I’ve had.”

  “Figure it out!” Mason shouts and I walk back to the table and grab my purse. “We’re done!”

  Mason and I promised to be more open about stuff like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for me to be here while this goes down. I don’t think it would actually come to blows, but whatever’s about to happen, it’s not
going to be pretty.

  “Hey,” Mason says in a loud whisper as he comes around the corner to find me already out of my seat, my purse slung over her shoulder. “I hope you understand, but I think it might be best if you sneak out the back and try not to run into him. I don’t know if he’s drunk, but he’s getting pretty pissed.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I kind of got that vibe.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Just head out the back door and go around to the south side. From the direction I’m facing now—”

  “I know which direction south is,” I interrupt.

  “Okay,” he says. “From there, just stay low along the hedges and when you get close to the sidewalk, just slowly walk away like you just came out of the next house, all right?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” I tell him.

  “All right,” he says, kissing me on the lips and then on the forehead. “I’m sorry about this, but we won’t have to deal with it after this, okay?”

  “Okay,” I tell him. “Just don’t… I mean, you two can talk—”

  “I’m not planning to hand him a beat down,” Mason interrupts. “I’m just going to get him and his stuff off of my property. There’s no reason this has to go the other way.”

  “Okay,” I answer. “Call me when it’s over.”

  It sounds cold the way I say it, but Mason nods his assent.

  I go out the back and around the side as instructed, but I’d never realized just how short these hedges are until I’m trying to use them as cover. Staying uncomfortably low, though, I manage to get to the sidewalk and casually walk away.

  This isn’t how I’d hoped the morning would go. I just want the complicated part of our relationship to be over already.

  I don’t know how long Mason’s going to need with his brother, so I guess I should just head home.

  It seems like every time we get a new start and things start going well, something comes up and we’re back in damage control mode. Am I naïve just wanting things to be easy for once?

  I get to my apartment building and with everything, I’m just glad to be home. That relief lasts until I open the front door and get an eyeful of my naked roommate straddling some naked guy on the couch.

  Jana looks over, covering herself with her hands and I slam the door shut again.

  I really didn’t need this right now. Usually, I couldn’t care less about Jana’s sex life, but when I can’t even walk through my front door after being the fourth wall during a tense situation between my boyfriend and his brother, I get pretty pissed.

  I’m still standing here in front of the doorway. I haven’t moved.

  I really don’t have anywhere else I want to go. Money’s too tight for me to go out and get something to eat while my roommate and her sweaty paramour finish up, and I’m not in the mood for going over to someone else’s place or to the library to study.

  I just want to be home. Is that so much to ask?

  You know what? This is my home, too.

  I throw the door open again to find Jana and the balding brunette guy she’s with in different stages of getting dressed.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Jana says. “We didn’t think you’d be home for a while.”

  I walk in and close the door behind me.

  “Kind of helps you get that feeling that you’re in college, though, right?” she asks.

  I set my purse on the table.

  “You know how they’re always talking about the wild sex parties that go on in college,” Jana says, though I’m not sure why she keeps talking.

  I go to the cupboard and pull down a glass, which I then fill with cold water.

  “You seem pretty mad,” Jana says. “Will you at least talk to me?”

  I take a sip of my water and look at her.

  “Look, I don’t know what the big deal is,” she says. “Is that what you wanted to come home to? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean that it’s anyone’s fault. I mean, these things just happen.”

  The guy’s dressed except for his shoes and socks, but no doubt as a reaction to the palpable tension in the room, he just picks up the rest and heads for the door. I set my water on the table.

  “Well,” she says, “now you’ve scared off my date. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone out and brought a stranger home? A girl’s gotta be able to go out and make a mistake every once in a while,” she says. “That’s what keeps you young.”

  “It doesn’t bother me that you’re having sex in the apartment,” I tell her.

  “Oh, good,” she says, taking a deep breath, relieved until she realizes she’s put her shirt on but not her bra.

  “It doesn’t bother me that I don’t know the guy or that you don’t either,” I tell her.

  “Okay,” she says, “are we doing a thing here, because I don’t know what my next line is supposed to be.”

  “It wouldn’t bother me if you came home with nine guys, five women and a bowling ball,” I tell her.

  “A bowling ball,” she says, forcing laughter. “That’s funny.”

  “What bothers me,” I say, “is that after yet another crappy day in my own life, I come home, just happy to be back where I’m comfortable, where I can retreat from the world, to find I can’t even enter my own apartment without having to walk through your inability to say no to anyone about anything.”

  “That’s not fair,” she says. “I picked him up, and I don’t just go around letting people tell me what to do all the time.”

  “Then why is your mom still here?” I ask. “She’s the one that does it. She’s the one that gets you acting crazy whenever she’s around. I don’t even care that I walked in on you, I care that there’s such a fundamental lack of respect for me and the fact that this is my home, too. I just wanted to come home, unwind and try to forget that there’s not a single complicated thing in my life, but I can’t even do that.”

  “I get that you’ve got this hate/despise relationship with my mom and everything, but you really need to chill,” she says. “I didn’t know you were coming home. If I did, we would have gone to the bedroom.”

  “It’s my couch!” I blurt. “Didn’t we have a rule: No sex on common area furniture without at least two towels down? People have to sit on that thing, you know.”

  “Oh, so now I’m just disgusting,” she says, walking over to the couch, lifting two towels I hadn’t seen before for the naked bodies that had been thrashing about atop them. “Maybe I’m not the problem. Maybe the real problem is that you can’t figure out how to make things work with your own guy and you’re just pissed when you see anyone else having a good time.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell her.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I bet that’s it. Things aren’t going so well with you and Mason because you don’t know how to keep a man around longer than fifteen minutes and now suddenly I’m the bad girl.”

  “I’m so not in the mood to stand here and listen to your bullshit,” I tell her.

  That startles us both. Hearing other people curse has never really bothered me—I heard more than enough of it growing up with dad and mom’s business partners—but I never, ever talk like that. Jana is well aware of this.

  “You’re losing it,” Jana says. “I don’t know what you think gives you the right—”

  “Oh, will you stop playing the wounded animal?” I ask. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

  “You know what?” Jana asks. “I’m getting out of here. I don’t have to listen to this. After you come in here and scare my date off, I’m not going to stay here and take this.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I tell her. “We’ve got some things to work out and I’m sick of brushing them under the rug, now we’ve got to figure out a way for both of us to live together in peace or one of us has got to go.”

  Jana cocks her head a little. “What happened with Mason today?” she asks. “I know something happened, but it must have been pretty bad for you to
get so lost up your own ass about it.”

  “You need to watch your mouth,” I tell her crossing the distance between us in a few quick strides. “I know you get a little crazy when your mom’s around, but you need to back off. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jana, never one to be intimidated for long, gets right back in my face, saying, “And you need to stop taking your crappy relationship out on me,” she says. “I get that you’re little Miss Perfect or whatever, but you not being able to make it work with a guy isn’t my fault!”

  “That’s not what this is about,” I spit.

  “Of course that’s what this is about!” she cries. “That’s what it’s always about. It’s about you! You think you’re the only one in this apartment that matters, but we’re supposed to be friends, Ash,” she says. “Lately, you’ve been a real bitch.”

  It’s a choice, I know it is, but as quick as it happens, it almost doesn’t seem like I had anything to do with it. My fist just flies on its own, striking Jana hard just below her eye and I freeze.

  My hand is throbbing, but I’m just standing here with my hands over my mouth while Jana stands there, her head still off to one side from the force of the blow.

  She slowly turns her head to look at me, covering her left eye.

  We look at each other a minute, neither one of us having been the least bit prepared for what just happened.

  “You hit me,” she says. “You actually hit me.”

  “Jana…” I mutter through my hands, “I am so sorry. I can’t believe that I—”

  “I hope you and Mason are very happy together,” she says and almost walks through me as she goes to grab her keys on the way out the door.

  The door slams loudly, and I’m still standing here, rubbing my right hand. I don’t think I broke anything, but it hurts like crazy.

  I go into my room and lock the door. Part of me thinks I should be crying right now, but I’m not. I’m still in shock.

  I’ve never hit anyone in my life. Despite the aching hand, it actually felt pretty good.

  She didn’t deserve to get hit, though. Maybe she was right. Maybe I am just miserable.