Fight For It

by Jessie Harper

  24

  Zach

  So much for taking it slow. One minute we're working out and the next I'm attacking her. It wasn't completely out of the blue; I'll admit that from the moment Julia walked into the studio all I could think about was touching her. I hugged her a little too long, but having her pressed up against me felt too good, so I held on. I've got no excuse for the hand holding. Somehow I found her hand in mine and I kept it there. Sort of like the way I somehow found her back in my arms when we should have been sparring. I can't explain why I caught her when she fell. My arm had a mind of its own and instead of letting her hit the mat and recover, I grabbed her and then went all caveman on her. There was a second where I thought better of it, that moment when I knew it could go either way. But when she looked up at me there was nothing but heat. I've been known to misread signals, especially when I want something so badly. And I want Julia. I want her badly enough to make a move here at work on the sweaty wrestling mats. And she stays pressed against me, so I don't hesitate.

  This isn't like the first time I kissed her, the time she put the brakes on. When I kiss her this time it's like something explodes inside me and I know she feels it too because she reaches up and grabs my neck, moaning just a little into my mouth. I fling the pads to the back of the room, not caring where they land. Then we're all tongues and hands and I'm breathing so hard I think I might pass out. I can't stop touching her and when she pulls my shirt over my head, I ease her down onto the mats. I reach for the hem of her tank top, looking her straight in the eye. I want to rip that thing right off, but I give her the chance to stop me. I want her to trust me; I want her to want me too. Julia's breathing hard, but she gives me a nod and lets me inch the material up higher and higher, finally ducking her head so that I can chuck the shirt back toward my own discarded one.

  I pull back to look at her and even though she's in her workout gear and not some sexy lingerie, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I want to tell her this, but the words get stuck in my throat, replaced by a growl that surprises me almost as much as it surprises her. I'm running my palms over her thighs, so fucking eager I can barely control myself. She pulls me back down and our mouths meet again. Her lips are soft and I lick at the seam, hoping she'll open wider. I'm devouring her, moving farther down to nip her chin and run my tongue along her neck. I've been dreaming about burying my face in her neck all week, but my imagination never put us here, not like this. I realize we should stop, that I should be giving her something more romantic, but then she runs a hand along my chest and any thought of stopping flies out the window. Her fingers find my nipple and I groan, feeling the heat licking up and down my back where her other hand is gripping me tight, pulling me closer.

  Julia kisses down the side of my neck and I push a thigh between hers, feeling the heat there. I brace myself on my forearms. I don't want to crush her but I can't get close enough. I won't be close enough until I'm inside her, which has me kissing her again, and moving one hand to the waistband of her pants. I slide my palm along her belly and she flinches a bit. I take that as a warning but she catches my hand in one of hers and pushes it farther south. My other hand finds her breast. She's still wearing her bra but I can easily feel the nub of her nipple straining against the fabric. When my fingers make contact, her back arches off the floor and a groan escapes her lips. I kiss her harder and the room starts to fall away as we rock into each other.

  The tinkle of the bell over the front door has my eyes snapping open and the rest of me coming back to reality. Julia's eyes fly open in alarm and in two seconds we're scrambling apart.

  I curse under my breath and Julia shoots me a sideways glance as she fumbles with her discarded shirt. Why the hell didn't I lock that front door? And what idiot can't read the sign that clearly says we're closed today?

  The sound of a set of keys clanking down on the front counter has me moving back out front, adjusting my shorts as I go. I'm beginning to suspect I know exactly who's waltzing into the studio on a Friday. Sure enough, Abbey’s on the wrong side of the counter, already messing with the receipts and mail I've got stashed there.

  "Can I help you?" I ask her, not giving a shit when it comes out like an accusation.

  Abbey jumps, bringing her hand to her heart. "Jesus, Zach! You scared the crap out of me!" She shakes her head. "What're you doing here? I thought you still took Fridays off."

  "I've got a private lesson." I plant my hands firmly on my hips. "That's why the door was unlocked. What the hell are you doing here?" Abbey sniffing around the gym is always bad news. Coming in when she thinks I won't be around can only mean trouble.

  "You booked a private lesson for your day off?" Abbey’s hands still linger under the counter. "Things must be worse over here than I thought." She gives me a smirk that promptly slides off her face when Julia comes out of the back studio. She's got her shirt back on and her hair pulled back tight again. Her bag is slung over her shoulder and she makes sure not to touch me as she moves past. I find myself missing the warmth of her body, willing her to brush against me.

  Abbey doesn't waste any time pretending to be offended. "Ah, now I see. Sorry to have interrupted." She gives me a look like she's caught me red-handed.

  "No, you aren't interrupting. We were just finishing up." Julia gives us both a tight smile.

  "Finishing? We've got time left, Jules." I'm stammering, flustered at the thought of her running out before I have a chance to talk to her. Having Abbey here is fucking everything up.

  "No, you've got other things to take care of. I'll go and leave you to it. Enjoy the rest of your day off." Julia's out the door and in her car before I have a chance to say anything else. My jaw hangs open and I blink like an idiot.

  Abbey makes a show of giving me a little pout. "Looks like you have time for me after all."

  Like hell I do.

  25

  Julia

  The entire way home I berate myself. What the hell was I thinking? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Really, Julia, the slightest touch from Zach Winston and you end up nearly naked rolling around on the floor with him. And even though he might have started it, I was the one to escalate it. I was ripping his clothes off before he had a chance to change his mind, so I can't really put all the blame on him. I gave him the opportunity. I threw myself at him and now I'm furious with myself.

  But it felt so good to be wanted again, after everything that's happened. And it’s been so long. The NOT PAUL didn't manage to work its way into my head for once. The lack of my usual warning system went a long way toward landing me in Zach's arms. I can't remember the last time I felt that pull and had someone else reciprocate. The sting of Paul's betrayal's still fresh, but today Zach wanted me, only me. For a few minutes he was crazy about me, not some twenty-two-year-old receptionist, not any of the other single ladies vying for his attention.

  Until Abbey burst in, that is. The sound of that chiming door was like a bucket of cold water to my obviously overactive libido. Never in my life have I been more thankful for the strength of my sports bra. If that thing had been easier to get off I would've been in an even more embarrassing situation. As it is, I'm counting myself lucky to have gotten out of there with at least a little of my dignity.

  I pull into the driveway and put the car in park. As I slam the door and start to stomp inside, I'm hit with the realization that I'm going to have to not only cancel my standing Friday appointment with Zach, but that I'm going to need to avoid him altogether. I would rather hide out than die of embarrassment. Charlie and Noah will still have martial arts, so it won't be the nice clean break I would like, but I can try to keep our contact to a minimum. This is exactly why I told Cassie this thing with Zach was a bad idea.

  I'm putting my key in the front door lock when I hear the truck in the drive. I'm not even in the house yet so I can't pretend to be out. I can't ignore the doorbell and hope he goes away. And now I can't escape in my car either because Zach is blocking me in. He basically jumps from the
driver's side, leaving the truck running. And I'm rooted to the spot, but where can I go anyway? He's seen me standing here and I'm not about to scurry inside.

  He stalks forward and quickly closes the gap between us. Instinctively, I step back and end up pressed against the door. I square my shoulders and plant my feet, keeping myself loose. This isn't a fight, but some things Zach taught me are easy to implement. Standing in my ready stance gives me the confidence I need to face him right now.

  "Julia." He scans my face. I try to keep my expression neutral, but from the look in his eyes I am failing miserably. Embarrassment coats every inch of me. "Can we talk about what just happened?"

  Zach reaches out to touch my arm and even that fleeting bit of contact burns. I pull back and his face falls. I can't let him touch me. I'll lose track of what I want to say.

  "Which part do you want to talk about?" I ask, folding my arms across my breasts. I'm painfully aware of the fact that Zach's hands were all over them not too long ago.

  "Is this about Graham?"

  "Graham? Why would this be about Graham?"

  "Are you still in some sort of relationship with him? He was here Saturday morning, and you seemed upset. It wouldn't be the strangest thing for me to think."

  I cut Zach off. "You think that I ran out today because I'm in love with Graham? There's nothing going on between me and Graham—no romance, no friends with benefits."

  Confusion clouds Zach's face. "Then I don't understand. I thought what happened back at the gym was mutual and if I was wrong then I'm an idiot and I apologize. For the record that's never happened before—the kissing at the gym, I mean—and I didn't plan that, if that's what you're thinking."

  I stand there silent.

  Zach lets out an exasperated sigh. "Are you sure you don't want to go inside to talk about this? Or somewhere else? We don't have to go into your house. I could buy you a coffee and we could hash this out."

  "Like a date?" A date I have no intention of going on. A date that I cannot let myself even think about.

  "Do you want it to be a date?" he asks, his face cautious. "Because I would like to go on a date with you, if you want to, but I don't count coffee as a date. If we were going out I would at least take you to dinner." He's smiling now, but still standing far enough away not to make me worry about him touching me.

  "I can't go on a date. What would I tell Charlie and Noah? What would you tell the other moms at the gym?"

  "Let me be clear," Zach begins. "I have never dated any of the moms from my kid classes at the studio. You can ask around. I've never taken any of them out. I've never hooked up with any of them. Hell, I don't hook up in general, why would I do it with one of the moms? I'm not that guy and I think you know that. This is between you and me. Just us."

  He seems so sincere. I settle myself on the porch stairs. Zach hesitates, then comes and sits beside me.

  "Look, I don't think you're that guy, but..." I lean against the porch railing and close my eyes. I can either decide to trust him or I can cut my losses and neither choice seems like a clear winner. I trust Zach, but I also trusted Paul once upon a time. What if my instincts have always been off? What if they're off now? I barrel on before I can lose my nerve. "But this is happening too fast for me. I've got some things to work through first. I wouldn't have thought my husband was that guy either and it turns out I was wrong."

  I open my eyes to Zach's confused face looking back at me. I manage a shrug and a tight grin, neither of which do much to change his expression. "So, I can't go on a date with you or anyone else right now, not even coffee. And I probably need to take a break from our Friday sessions too."

  "When did you find out?" Zach's voice is low and steady.

  "Last Friday," I answer and see the pieces click into place for him—my crying jag at the studio, our night of drinking, my tear-stained face the following morning when he stopped by my house. Zach nods again and stands, but then turns back to face me.

  "Take all the time you need." And then he's leaning down to kiss me on the forehead and walking to his truck. It's too late when I realize that maybe, more than anyone, Zach understands this moment for what it is. But he's got the truck in reverse and he's grimly steering out of my driveway before I can stand up, before I can call out for him to come back and come inside with me so that I can tell him everything. He's gone before I can put my hand back in his and make him forget the wound I've managed to open back up.

  26

  Zach

  "Which is why Amanda Nunes could easily kick your ass, right?"

  "Right."

  "Dude, are you even listening to me? I just laid out all the reasons you'd be the loser in a fight with a chick and you agreed with me."

  I look up to find Doug grinning over the top of his pint glass, clearly enjoying my pain. He's right; I wasn't listening. The Amanda Nunes part I'm not so sure about, but I'm not about to give him the satisfaction of taking the bait on that one. I haven't been listening to anything but my own internal monologue since I left Julia sitting on her front porch. That and the beating of my heart. The constant thump, thump that lets me know time is passing and that the rock in the bottom of my stomach will be gone. Eventually.

  After Julia told me about her husband, I went straight back to the gym. Luckily, Abbey was nowhere to be seen. I didn't need a run in with her to put me even further over the edge. What I needed was to get to the bag and beat the hell out of it. Even two hours later, soaked in sweat and exhausted, I didn't feel much better. Seeing the pain on Julia's face just brought my own pain right back to the surface. Sure, it sucks to have to put on hold all the things I'd been planning because I'd started to let myself think about something more than friendship with Julia. But what sucked even worse was the way just hearing about her husband's mistakes made it hard for me to breathe. Being on the receiving end of my wife's cheating should make an expert when it happens to someone I know. I should've been able to say something profound, but instead I ran out of there like I was on fire. And I went right back to my safe space, to the place that saved me the first time when my own life fell apart and I had to put it back together again. Now Julia's doing the same thing, only she doesn't really have a place to save her yet.

  Doug's still talking and right now I'm not sure why I even agreed to meet him for beers. I've been avoiding hanging out with anyone unless it's for workouts. And I've been avoiding all the places where I think Julia might be. I don't want to pop out and surprise her, mainly because the surprise might make me have a heart attack. So Mamacita's is out for now even if it is the most convenient place for me to meet Doug so that I can easily escape. Instead, we're grabbing beers at a brew pub a good twenty minutes away, and I've had to drive my truck. But the beer is helping to blunt my misery some and being out of the house makes me feel less bitter about my current situation. Hiding out hasn't done much to make things clearer.

  "I'm not saying she's not a worthy opponent or anything. I mean, let's all be honest here, she could almost definitely kick your ass. How long you think you could last, like five minutes, maybe?"

  I break out of my fog long enough to realize that Doug has asked me a question. "What're you talking about?"

  "Nunes. How long do you think it would take her to kick your sorry ass?” Doug takes a sip of his beer as I scowl into mine.

  "I'm not even hypothetically fighting a woman," I snap, maybe a little too forcefully. I know Doug's only trying to get under my skin. It's just like all of our trash talking on the mats right before I manage to pin him and grind my sweaty armpit into his face.

  "Ah, so you have been paying attention! I was wondering if I should've just let you drink your sad, sad beer alone. What's going on in that thick head of yours? Did I hit you too hard yesterday or something?"

  "Not talking about it." I don't make eye contact.

  "Not to be a girl here, but if you need to talk about your feelings or something, I'll try to keep a straight face."

  "I don't need to ta
lk about my feelings, thanks, asshole. I just need to drink beer and not hear about how well you think I'd do against Amanda Nunes in an imaginary cage match." I glare, but Doug continues to grin.

  "Who do you want to fight in an imaginary cage match? Top three." Doug waits and I sip my beer, pretending to think. I have no interest in discussing my top three cage match opponents, but it's more appealing than talking about my feelings or having him bring up Julia. The guys at the gym know some of what happened, but they also know better than to push their luck. I agreed to drinks, not an interrogation.

  Thankfully the sound of the pub door opening behind me diverts Doug's attention. Every male head in the room swivels to look at the door and stays there. Doug lets out a low whistle and jerks his own head toward the door. "You should totally turn around to look at what just walked in."

  I turn to look, and then have to reach across the table to slap Doug on the back of his head. He protests loudly, rubbing the spot where I thumped him. "What the hell did you do that for?"

  I don't have time to answer because before I can open my mouth, a set of green eyes fix on me. I might have been doing well at avoiding Julia, but I forgot about Cassie. She sashays past the front tables, headed straight for us. Doug's mouth falls open, easily falling under Cassie's spell. And he isn't the only one. Her tight jeans and flowing red hair manage to snag more than passing glances from the tables around us. While I certainly appreciate Cassie, I still see the chubby girl from high school with the wicked sense of humor. Which probably means she still sees a skinny band dork when she looks at me.

  "Look who's here," Cassie belts out once she reaches the table. "A little far from your neighborhood, aren't you? I thought you restricted yourself to a five-mile radius."