Rough Around the Edges

by Ranae Rose

  Ryan tuned out, not because he didn’t care, but because Ally was approaching and her presence annihilated his ability to pay attention to anything else so completely that an atom bomb might as well have been dropped on the part of his brain responsible for giving a shit about what Cameron was saying.

  He popped out his mouthguard and held it in one gloved hand, running his tongue along his teeth as he remembered the way hers felt against his lips.

  When she reached them she ducked under Cameron’s arm, bobbing and weaving like she was dodging a punch. “Hey.”

  There was a distinct light in her eyes as she looked up at him, cheeks faintly pink. He imagined that she was radiating an energy to match his, a sense of satisfaction she shared because… Because why? He couldn’t say. But when he’d met her eyes after his match there had been a split second when he’d felt a connection so definite that the sheer shock of it had fractured something inside him. The crack left in its wake was filled by the sight of her face, the sound of her voice.

  He was in deep if she didn’t feel the same way – hell, maybe he was in deep anyway. But he couldn’t think of that as he stood beside her, sweat rolling down his overheated muscles and failing to cool his body. “Hey.”

  “You were amazing. Congratulations.”

  Her praise didn’t do anything to cool him down, either.

  “Thanks. Let me clean up and we can get out of here.” Unable to resist any longer, he leaned down. A few stray strands of her hair brushed his chin as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. Sweet and clean, it had left her hair smelling like freshly-washed fruit. “I’ll fight my way past Cameron if I have to.”

  She smiled. “You go ahead and get showered and dressed. I’ll wait here and distract him when you come out, if I have to.”

  “Just make sure he hangs around long enough to pay me.” He turned on his heel and dodged Cameron’s latest attempt to clap a hand down on his shoulder as he stepped into the locker room, a cool and quiet retreat from the open gym outside.

  Feet bare against the tiled floor, he stripped and showered, facing the wall as the cold water gradually subdued the half-hard cock that knowing he was about to spend time alone with Ally had given him.

  When he was sure he’d washed away the scent and sticky dampness of several different people’s sweat, he toweled off and dressed in the clean clothing he’d brought in his gym bag.

  Cameron greeted him with a grin when he emerged from the locker room. He also pressed a check into his hand, which gave Ryan reason to pause for a moment before reaching for Ally. “You’ll be coming back to claim another check next Friday, right?”

  He nodded. “See you tomorrow – I’ll be here for Ally’s fights.” Ally had said Cameron would be hosting another women’s night, which were growing in popularity, and that she’d be competing.

  He didn’t hesitate to slip an arm around her shoulders. He’d only held back before because, assumedly, she wouldn’t have appreciated being coated in sweat. Holding her close to his side like that, he was even higher than he’d been when he’d stepped out of the ring. Cameron said something he didn’t hear as they swept out of the gym and into the night together.

  They were halfway through the parking lot when the first streak of silver light slashed across the field of his vision. He might have thought it was the flash of headlights if it hadn’t been for the pang of agony that lanced through his head, followed by a vague wave of nausea. Between the bright light and pain, it was like being struck by lightning as he walked across the asphalt, guiding Ally toward the Mustang.

  “Are you all right?” She shifted beneath his arm, not shrugging off his touch, but turning to face him with an expression that was just as concerned as the tone of her voice.

  Shit. He lowered a hand he didn’t remember raising to his temple and attempted to will the tension out of his arm. No matter how he tried, it just didn’t feel as natural there, draped across her shoulders, as it had before. “Just a headache.”

  When they reached the car, he opened the passenger-side door for her, feeling relieved when he removed his arm from around her shoulders.

  “Where to?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “I’m not picky. Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat?”

  “Well, if you really mean that…” He backed the car out of its space and rolled out onto the street. “I’d love some chicken and waffles.” His favorite diner had quick service and strong coffee. With the help of caffeine, he’d hopefully be able to last long enough to drive Ally home after they ate.

  “Chicken and waffles?”

  “Yeah. Waffles topped with chicken and gravy? I feel like I could eat about a hundred of them right now.” Food might help too. It wouldn’t stop the agony brewing inside his skull, but it might end the nausea.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever tried that. Whenever I eat waffles, I put fruit on them. Or syrup.”

  “You’re missing out.” He turned a corner, expecting more random bursts of silver light and telling himself not to mistake them for headlights and run his car off the street in an attempt to avoid them. Last time it had cost him five-hundred dollars; if he fucked up like that again he’d make an ass of himself in front of Ally, which would be worse. Way worse. “You can try some of mine tonight. Maybe they’ll become a favorite of yours too.”

  He took them to a familiar diner and parked in its small lot. “This place has the best chicken and waffles in the entire city. I should know – I tried all the places I could find when I first moved here.”

  “Where did you live before you moved here?”

  “North Carolina.” A heavy feeling settled into his empty gut as he reached for the door’s handle. He ignored it and tried to blink away the silver zigzags that were flashing in the corner of his right eye. He hadn’t seen them during the drive – he’d almost started to hope that they wouldn’t come back at all, that the moment of agony he’d experienced back in the parking lot had been a false alarm.

  “You didn’t like it there?”

  He shrugged. “It was all right.”

  “Were you in the military at the time?”

  She stared across the console at him, her eyes searching his.

  “I saw your tattoo – Semper Fidelis.”

  Semper Fidelis. Hearing the words on her lips made them seem more real than knowing they were deep in his skin, forever a part of him. “I was a marine. Stationed at Camp Lejeune.”

  Of course she’d seen the tattoo that covered his entire back, an intricate blanket of black Celtic-style knots featuring the words Semper Fidelis in bold script across his shoulders. Why hadn’t he thought of that – why hadn’t he anticipated the question? Sitting there with his knuckles going white as he gripped the door handle, a bitter taste filled his mouth. If he didn’t get something to eat, he’d puke up the water Cameron had practically forced down his throat while acting as his cornerman.

  He exited the car and walked around to her side, opening her door for her.

  “Thanks.” She climbed out and rose to stand by his side.

  “My pleasure.” He pushed away thoughts of muggy Carolina air and touched a hand to the small of her back. It really was a pleasure – to be near her, to touch her. They could talk about the Marine Corps later. They wouldn’t have time for it tonight, anyway.

  Once they’d entered the diner and settled down at a Formica-topped table, she ordered chicken and waffles, same as him.

  “Good choice,” he said, and winked at her, acting like he didn’t feel the dull pain inside his skull. When he looked directly at her and let himself focus on her beauty, he almost didn’t.

  She smiled and he held her gaze, focusing on her like he’d focus on an opponent in the ring, so that everything else – even the mounting pain – faded, relegated to the back of his mind.

  “Do you have work tomorrow?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, my cousin is taking care of nails at the salon tomorrow. I
’m planning to head over to the gym in the morning and warm up for the night’s event. I don’t want to tire myself out, but I do want to practice some kicks to make sure I don’t make the same mistake I did last time.”

  “Maybe I could help. You know, give you some coaching. I want to see you win.”

  “Sure. I’d appreciate you taking the time to do that.”

  “Believe me, it won’t be a chore.”

  The blush she’d maintained throughout the night deepened, and his natural instinct was to smile at the sight, but a hot spike of pain lanced through his skull, freezing his lips, his entire body.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Lights clouded his vision like jellyfish and he had to settle for looking at her through them, the perfect picture of her face disrupted by jagged lines and patches of blinding silver. No matter how many times he blinked, they didn’t go away.

  Ally looked like she might press him further, but the waitress intervened, lowering hot plates onto the table. “Here you go.”

  Ryan freed a set of silverware from its napkin with a clatter and picked the fork up off the tabletop without pausing. His fingers shook slightly, but he gripped the scratched-up steel utensil hard to steady his hands as he cut into a waffle.

  The waffles were soft and dense, the sort of food that would hopefully soak up the acid churning inside his stomach, threatening to make him sick. It was a disgusting thought, especially considering he was in the middle of his second date with Ally. It didn’t take a genius to realize that it wasn’t going to go as well as the first one had.

  “You were right,” Ally said eventually. “This is good. I might actually be able to finish this plate.”

  “A woman after my own heart.” He tried to keep his voice light as everything inside him ached. Their second date might not go as well as the first, but that didn’t mean it had to be a disaster. If he could just get through the meal and drive her home without letting on that anything serious was wrong, that’d be all right.

  “Okay, I can’t finish this.” She set down her fork with a sigh of defeat. “Do you want the rest?”

  He’d finished his plate. The food had helped some. “If you’re sure you don’t.” The headaches were always worse when he was hungry, and his fights had left him ravenous. Accepting her plate when she slid it across the table, he started on what she hadn’t eaten.

  When the waitress stopped by their table again he ordered a cup of coffee. A full stomach and a dose of caffeine – that was the best medicine he could manage until he took Ally home. His pills were in his apartment, in the cupboard above the sink, and he wanted to kick his own ass for not having the foresight to stash them in his car or his gym bag.

  Ally asked for a cup of decaf. “It takes me forever to fall asleep if I have caffeine this late,” she explained as the waitress disappeared into the kitchen.

  He nodded. “I know what you mean. But caffeine sometimes helps take the edge off a headache. I’d rather be awake from caffeine than because I’m in too much pain to sleep.” Sleeping was never really easy, anyway.

  “Is it that bad?” She didn’t sound surprised by the mention of his headache. But then, she’d seen him freeze and press his hand to his temple in Knockout’s parking lot – he wouldn’t have mentioned the headache at all if she hadn’t. “You weren’t hit in the head tonight, were you?”

  He shook his head and suppressed the urge to wince as a fresh bolt of pain struck him between the eyes. “No.”

  “My aunt gets headaches sometimes – migraines.” In the wake of this statement, she simply gazed across the table at him, a look of concern softening her beautiful features.

  Or at least, he thought so – his vision swam with silver lights, and it hurt to focus on anything. The diner’s bright lighting was killer. His eyelids felt ten times heavier than usual, and it took every last bit of his willpower not to shut his eyes and press the heels of his palms against them. “Yeah. Headaches are a bitch.”

  When the waitress arrived with his coffee, he took it from her hand instead of waiting for her to set it on the table. The mug was hot, but it didn’t matter. Sometimes caffeine helped with the migraines – something about caffeine constricting blood vessels in the brain or something.

  And sometimes it didn’t have any effect at all, but it was worth a try.

  “Do you have medicine – maybe out in your car?” Ally asked as she poured cream into her coffee. “I could go get it for you if you give me the keys.”

  “Left it at home.”

  “I won’t keep you, then. I know you must be in a lot of pain – you didn’t even flinch when you were kicked in the ribs tonight. This must be even worse.”

  He was already halfway done with his cup of black coffee. She’d just finished pouring a packet of sugar into hers and had barely taken a sip. “Take your time finishing your coffee. I plan to have a second cup.”

  If he was going to put his faith in the potent brew the diner served up, he might as well go all out. One cup wouldn’t be enough to keep him in good enough shape to drive home. Two might buy him enough time to drop Ally off and make it back to his apartment before he fell apart.

  The waitress was attentive. She refilled Ryan’s mug as soon as he’d emptied it, and when he and Ally were ready to leave a few minutes later, he stuffed a couple bills into the little black folder that had been left on the table. It was enough for a generous tip, but anyone who refilled his coffee that quickly deserved it and he didn’t have time to wait for change anyway – the caffeine hadn’t done much to slow the progression of his headache. Soon, it would be blinding and driving would be an impossibility.

  Outside, the night had grown colder. Or maybe he’d just finally cooled down after the fights. Either way, its chill slipped under his jacket as he and Ally crossed the parking lot. He didn’t dare touch her, to offer warmth or to take it. If he did, she’d feel his hands shaking.

  He unlocked the car with the press of a button. When he reached for the driver’s side door, the asphalt seemed to sway beneath him. He braced himself with a hand against the Mustang as the wave of vertigo passed over him, leaving him nauseous again in its wake.

  “Are you okay?” Ally was on the other side of the car, but her voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. “I mean, do you think you should drive?”

  “I’ll be all right.” He pulled himself together and opened the door.

  As he slid into his seat, he realized he’d forgotten to open Ally’s door for her. She’d done it herself and was regarding him carefully from across the console.

  When he raised his keys they clashed against each other, jangling. He cursed the sound inside his head as he tried to slide the right key into the ignition. It scraped and scratched against the metal that surrounded the keyhole, refusing to go in. Fuck.

  He didn’t see Ally move, didn’t realize she was reaching for him until she touched him – damn the silver lights floating in front of his eyes.

  “Your hands are shaking.” She gripped his hand in a hold that was somewhere between gentle and firm. “Maybe you should just sit back and rest for a minute.”

  He was caught somewhere between sick dread and anger – not at her, but at himself. Each time the key scraped against the metal instead of sliding into the ignition, his ire spiked, along with the pain inside his head.

  Finally, the key slid in.

  He let his hand fall into his lap. How was it that he’d felt fine after three fights, but putting the key into his car’s ignition had left him feeling exhausted?

  “Maybe I should call a cab.” She was still touching him, her fingers warm and tangled with his.

  “Can’t leave my car here.” If he did, he’d probably return the next day to find the windows shattered and the stereo gone, at the very least. “I don’t want anything to happen to it, and I can’t afford for it to be towed.” He bit down on nothing as his head throbbed with a particularly potent wave of pain.

  �
��I’ll drive to your place, then. I can’t just sit here and watch you suffer.”

  “You know how to drive a stick-shift?”

  “My father taught me years ago.”

  His natural instinct was to refuse, to insist he could drive, that she didn’t need to worry about anything. But pain overrode instinct and even he knew that was bullshit. The sound of crunching metal and skidding tires echoed in his mind, so loud he would’ve thought he’d wrecked again if he’d been driving.

  But the car was still and silent in the parking lot, the key in the ignition but not turned.

  He couldn’t risk her safety, and damn it, what other choice was there? “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Switch seats with me.”

  Chapter 6

  He stumbled when he stepped out of the Mustang. Steadying himself with a hand against the door, he swore. Not out loud – that only would’ve called attention to the fact that he couldn’t even walk steadily around his own fucking car, let alone drive it. It was bad enough that she was driving; she didn’t need to know how relieved he was that she’d slipped behind the wheel.

  “Do you have a license?” The question was an afterthought, really. He pulled the door shut and sank against the passenger seat like every bone in his body had liquefied. How long had it been since he’d ridden in the passenger seat? Had he ever?

  “No,” Ally said.

  “Well, don’t speed.”

  She turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life.

  The entire vehicle vibrated with an aura of power. She’d driven a stick before, but the Mustang was bound to be a different experience than whatever vehicle she’d learned in. A pang of worry hit him, but it was nothing compared to the avalanche of guilt that buried him whenever he considered what might happen if he tried to drive her home himself.

  She’d be better off driving, for sure.