by JB Salsbury
I spin around, and all the air is sucked from my lungs. Axelle’s across the way and sandwiched between a tree trunk and Clifford. His head is tilted and his tongue’s down her throat. I cringe but can’t look away.
“You sure you want to give everything up for her, man? ’Cause from where I’m sitting I don’t think you’re even on her radar.”
Clifford gropes her body, his hands sliding around her waist to grab two fistfuls of her ass. I rip my gaze away and stare blindly at the café.
“Axelle’s a cool chick. Seriously, I wish things were different. But it’s time you start seeing things that’re right in front of your face.”
Fuck. I push up from the table, ignoring him. “I’m getting some lunch. See ya later.”
~*~
Axelle
Clifford didn’t wait the two weeks I was supposed to abstain from kissing. He swore he couldn’t help himself. It’s to the point now where I hardly get two words out before he attacks my mouth. I thought this was the reaction I wanted, but now I’m not so sure.
He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, and as gross as that should be, it’s not. My first kiss was a rocker kid who was three years older than me. I was thirteen, but in his defense, I looked a lot older. Despite his rough exterior, he was really tender, and his mouth tasted like an ashtray. For me, he set the standard for every kiss that followed.
And other than the smoky taste, Clifford’s have yet to meet the expectation.
I mean the fact that I’m even thinking about that first kiss while Clifford’s tongue flicks at my barbell is proof positive his kiss is less than earth-shattering.
I press my palms against his chest until he breaks away. He’s breathing heavy and his eyes roar with lust. “What…what’s wrong?”
Sidestepping to get out from between him and the tree at my back, I tuck hair behind my ear and grin. “You know how I feel about PDA.”
With one arm, he braces his weight on the trunk, tilting his head to study me. “That piercing makes me crazy.”
My cheeks heat and my heart flutters at his approval. “I can tell.”
“Can’t keep my hands off you.” He chuckles. “Hope I didn’t fuck up the healing process.”
“Nope. I’m a good healer. I think it’s okay.” Something pulls my attention, and I look over to see Killian headed into the café.
He unknowingly snags the eyes of practically every girl he passes. Even the guys he passes seem to puff out their chests in a silent defense of their manhood. And honestly who could blame them? He’s tall, wears clothes that fit him too well, and his body is sculpted to perfection, but that’s not even his most attractive quality. It’s his humility. He has absolutely zero idea of the effect he has on people.
“You hungry, babe?” Clifford’s voice calls me away from watching my friend in all his gloriousness.
“Yeah, do you have time to grab a bite?”
He checks his phone. “No, but I’ll walk you down there before I head to class.”
I pick up my backpack off the grass, and he throws his arm over my shoulder, making me melt into him.
God, I’m the worst girlfriend…er…hookup girl ever. In the time I’ve been with him, I’ve been thinking of two other guys. Clifford is far from ugly. His light brown hair is skillfully cut in an emo shag, He’s slender, not super skinny, but his muscles are longer. Lean. Not like Kill’s bulging physique. He’s tall, close to six feet, and he dresses like he belongs in a band: small shirts, tight jeans, spiked belt and a wallet attached to a chain.
We head into the café, and even over the crowd, Killian’s gaze immediately tangles with mine. He flashes a small smile that dissolves the second Clifford spots him.
“Killian, what’s up, man?” Clifford pulls me closer to his side.
Kill’s eyes dart between us and then settle on him. “Nothing much. You guys grabbing lunch?”
“I am. Clifford has to go to class.”
Killian’s eyes stay on me.
“I have class all the way across campus, so I better go.”
I rip my gaze from Killian and peer up at Clifford. “Okay, you sure you don’t want to grab a coffee or something for the road?”
The side of his mouth lifts and he leans in close. “Oh, yeah, I’ll definitely be taking something for the road.”
Before I have a chance to turn away, his tongue is in my mouth, flicking like a snake against my piercing. I pull my head back, but he locks me to him with his forearm at the back of my neck. I squeeze my eyes closed and consider taking this stupid thing out if it continues to bring on Clifford’s probing kiss every time I open my mouth.
He finally pulls away and again he’s breathless. Huh…why don’t his kisses do the same for me? I don’t feel anything. Hell, I may as well be watching Cars for the six millionth time with my brother as it has the same dulling effect.
I pretend to swipe at the messed-up lip gloss I’m not wearing, when really I’m clearing the wetness of his mouth from my upper lip. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
He nods to Killian, and for some stupid reason, I can’t even look at my friend because I’m terrified to face the disappointment I know I’ll see in his expression.
“Yeah, tonight.” He squeezes my ass, and I resist the urge to glare. “You’re coming over, right?”
“Yes.” Most likely to watch him play X-box, but it’s better than being alone.
“Later.” He spins on his black Converse high top and is gone.
“I’m sorry about that,” I whisper and reach into my backpack to fish out some money. “I told him I’m not into PDA, but he’s not a very good listener.” I laugh uncomfortably and fumble with a few dollars, still avoiding Killian’s eyes. “It’s awkward and I don’t know…” Why isn’t he talking? Did he walk away and I’ve been here talking to myself?
I risk a glance and immediately regret it. His dark eyebrows are set low, and he’s gripping a water bottle so tight the thin plastic caves beneath the pads of his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I don’t even know why, but it had to be said.
He blinks a few times and then sucks in a shaky breath. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I don’t. But then…why do I feel like I do? I’d hate to see Killian kissing his girlfriend, if he ever had one. I mean I wouldn’t hate it, but it’s always awkward seeing people make out.
I lick my lips and shift on my feet, vacillating between doing the moonwalk or giving myself a wedgie just to erase the unease in his eyes.
“You getting something to eat?” He nods to the money in my hand.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll grab a table.” He moves past me without waiting for my answer.
Not that I would’ve said no. And he knows my schedule well enough to know I have thirty minutes before my next class.
I grab a premade turkey sandwich and a grape Powerade Zero then meet Killian outside where he’s sitting at a table that’s half shade half sun. I grin and shuffle over to him, dropping my stuff on the table just as he takes a bite of his sandwich.
He chews then motions to the other chair. “If you sit there, you’ll get both.”
I gauge the sun and shade then agree and move my things to the chair closest to him. “You think I’m weird that I like to sit half in the sun, don’t you?”
He takes a pull off his water bottle. “You’ve always been like that.”
“Right.” I unwrap my sandwich. “Always weird.”
For the first time since I walked into the café, he grins. “Maybe a little.”
“I knew it.” I take a bite of my food and smile right back at him. Being with him is always so easy.
“But it’s not the sun-shade thing that makes you weird. It’s the air-conditioning thing.”
I roll my eyes.
“You know blasting the cold air in your car with the windows down kinda defeats the purpose.”
“I disagree. It’s air condit
ioning. I’m conditioning the air around me, so if it’s cold outside, I like to feel the brisk air on my face, but I don’t like being cold so—”
“You turn on the heat.”
I shrug. “Right. And vice versa.”
“Weird,” he mumbles before taking another bite of his food.
“So how’s work?”
He frowns. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? I’m catching up on your life, making conversation. You know, the thing friends do when they hang out.”
He blinks then goes back to focusing on his sandwich. “It’s good.”
“That’s it? Just good?”
“Great… I guess.” Finished with his food, he balls up his trash and moves it to the edge of the table. “You never did tell me how your mom took the piercing.”
“Good enough, I mean she kinda freaked at first, but then once it sunk in she was cool. It took a little longer for Blake to come to terms with it.”
“Yeah, I know.”
My eyes dart to his. “What…did he…oh my God, Kill, did he give you shit about it?”
He shrugs one shoulder and drops back into his seat. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
I bury my face into my hands, completely humiliated. “Oh God, that’s so embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
“Like I said, I handled it.”
“I didn’t mean to tell him you were there. It just slipped out, and then he went off about why you didn’t stop me, and I said it’s none of his fucking business—”
“You said that?” His eyebrows rise and a hint of a grin ticks his lips.
“Not exactly, but basically.”
His grin widens, and a deep chuckle filters from his lips. “I was gonna say I would’ve paid to have been there when you told Blake it’s none of his fucking business.”
I laugh and agree. That would not have gone over well.
He smiles sadly. “From the looks of it, I guess Cliff approves.”
I study him and a tension strings tight between us, as if a million unspoken words hover in the space between our lips. Mesmerized by the depth of his stare, I’m incapable of looking away.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He nods and breaks eye contact. “That’s good, Ax. I’m… I’m happy for you.”
An odd feeling comes over me at those words, because I’m always desperate for his approval, but for the first time, in this case, I don’t want it.
Seven
Killian
“Get in and out! In and out!” Rex’s shouted instructions are called from outside the cage.
I step in, throw a left, pivot out.
“There it is!” He claps. “Again!”
Wade’s eyes are focused on me, gloved hands raised. He blinks to clear the sweat from his vision. I know because I’m doing the same.
I step in. Body shot. Pull back.
Wade lands a kick to my ribs.
“Shit.” I grab his ankle just in time to take him to the ground.
“Nice!” Rex yells. “Half guard!”
I use the weight of my body to wrap my leg around his. He struggles as I secure half guard. He braces my hip, making so I can’t get a tighter hold¸ then thrusts up. His hands get between us.
“No! Lock ’em down!”
We go back and forth, him gaining an inch, me getting it back. We’re breathing heavily and fatigue makes me clumsy. He takes advantage and locks me in a guillotine choke.
“Dammit, Kill!” Rex yells just as I sag and tap.
“Fuck, boy!” Wade jumps off me, grinning. “You’re one strong son of a bitch!”
I roll to my back, trying to catch my breath. “Not strong enough.” I spit out my mouth guard and stare at the ceiling.
Rex’s face comes into view as he leans over me. I expect to see him scowling, but his pierced lip is pulled into a wide grin. “That was some impressive shit, Kill.” He holds out his hand. “Get your ass up.”
I allow him to pull me to my feet where Wade wraps his arm around my neck. “You’re going to destroy the competition in England, bro.” He slaps my back.
Fuck. Not this again.
It’s been three weeks since I got the offer to go to London, and I haven’t told the guys I’m not taking the offer yet. They seem to leave me alone when I say I haven’t decided yet. But I find the surest way to stay clear of their shit is to just keep my mouth shut altogether.
Wade lifts his water bottle to his lips before looking to Rex. “Dude, can you imagine getting your first fight overseas at twenty-one?”
Rex studies me with a knowing expression. “No, I can’t. It’s the opportunity of a fuckin’ lifetime.”
His words set a thirty-pound weight of guilt in my gut. And no way I can tell them the real reason I’m not considering the move. Or rather, why I’m only considering it a little.
After Axelle and Clifford’s little PDA last week, I started to wonder if maybe some space wouldn’t be good for us. I even followed Cam’s instructions and went straight from school that day to apply for a passport, paying extra for expedited service. I’ve heard absence makes the heart grow fonder. If that’s true, maybe a little absence is exactly what Axelle needs. I, on the other hand, can’t stand to get any fonder than I already am. My guess is the next step of infatuation for me comes with a high-powered telescope, her dirty underwear, and a secret entrance to her bedroom.
The Velcro from Wade’s glove being ripped off calls my attention. “When do you guys leave?”
My gaze darts to Rex, who is looking on expectantly.
“Leave for England?” I’m stalling. Not my proudest moment.
“No, leave for Dubai.” Wade tosses his glove at my head. “Yes, England, jackass.”
“Cam’s giving me some time, so I don’t know.”
Wade’s eyes narrow. “Time for what?”
Rex interrupts. “Killer hasn’t decided if he’s gonna take the UK gig yet.”
Wade’s eyes dart to mine, and his jaw falls loose on its hinges. “Are you insane? Of course you’re taking it!”
I shrug and pull off my gloves. “Yeah, I most likely will, but I’m still trying to weigh the ramifications of leaving school for a year.”
“Ramifi—no! There are zero ramifications.” He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a freak of science. “Why wouldn’t you go?”
Because I’m in love with my best friend, and if I leave, she might find the guy of her dreams, and I want to be that guy, so I can’t fucking go!
“School.” School. That’s my answer. I’m an idiot.
“Fuck school, man! It’ll always be there, but you only have this window of opportunity open now.”
“He’s right,” Rex mumbles.
“It’s one year. That’s like a fart in time, my friend. You’ll never miss it. But you will absolutely miss it when you don’t get this kind of offer again and you’re stuck in small-ticket fights that pay piss-all because you missed out on your chance to do something awesome.”
“You’re probably right. I just…needed to think about it.”
“The fact that you even have to think is worrisome.” Wade follows us into the weight room.
“I’ll probably go.”
“Where are we going?” Mason says from his position at the squat rack.
Wade points at me from over his shoulder. “Boy genius here is considering passing up the UK.”
The surfer-looking fighter sets his eyes on mine. “Don’t be stupid, Kill. It’s only a year.”
Only a year.
365 days away from Axelle.
I can do that.
Can’t I?
~*~
Axelle
When I first started hanging out at Clifford’s place, I didn’t know what GTA5 was. After sitting in his living room for more hours than I can count over the last couple months, I’ve learned it’s a video game where men get to pretend they’re bigger and badder than they really are. They get to role-play the things they’d never have the balls t
o do in real life.
It’s basically a playground for pussies.
“Dude, a hitchhiker.” John, Clifford’s roommate and all around loser friend, points to the screen. “You gonna pick him up?”
“Yep.” Clifford laughs and jimmies his joystick, or controller, whatever they’re called. “Then I’m gonna drive him up to the mountains and feed him to the coyotes.”
Doesn’t say much about society that we now have games that allow him to do just that.
I’m bored and repulsed and need a distraction.
“You guys hungry?” It’s after nine and I haven’t eaten dinner.
When I got here, Clifford dragged me back to his room with his mouth all over mine. He insisted I put my piercing to use. John came home seconds after we finished and roped Clifford into playing video games, leaving me alone and unsatisfied in his bed.
I shook off the whispers of desire I’d felt when he was telling me how beautiful I was, how talented my mouth is, and how much he enjoyed me. I know it’s not love he feels for me, but it’s something, and like a drug, I’m addicted to it. When my mouth is on him, or he’s inside me, I feel wanted. After years of feeling unwanted, I desperately cling to that feeling of being wanted when we’re together.
“I’m starving.” John clicks the remote, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth in concentration.
“Yeah, why don’t you go grab us some food?” Clifford doesn’t even look at me when he says it, his gaze firmly planted on the big flat-screen.
Better to be useful than to warm this damn chair. I get up and grab my keys. “What do you guys want?”
“Tacos.”
“Pizza.”
They say it simultaneously, and rather than try to decipher which one to grab, I decide hitting two different places means killing more time and hit two drive-thrus instead of one.
Thirty minutes later I push through the front door, balancing a pizza box and a bag of tacos in my hand.
“Food’s here,” Clifford’s voice sounds from the living room followed by two more that are distinctly female.