Among the Echoes

by Aly Martinez

I let out a huff, knowing that there is no use in arguing with him about this. I walk back toward the kitchen to find Adam standing over the cutting board, slicing up bell peppers.

  "Oh jeez. You don’t have to do that," I rush out.

  He looks up and offers me a half smile and shrug. "It’s okay. I actually really like to cook. I’m not great, but I can slice a mean vegetable," he jokes with a crooked grin that's so kind it makes my annoyance disappear. "You want me to open the wine?" he asks, putting the knife down on the cutting board.

  "Oh, um… Thanks, but I’m not a big drinker. I bet Dave would take one of the beers though."

  "I absolutely would," Dave confirms, appearing behind me. "Hey, Adam, what are your thoughts on the Lopez vs. O’Neil fight tonight?"

  "Shit. Is that tonight?" Adam pulls two beers out of the fridge, where he apparently placed them earlier.

  Dave quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head in confusion. "You forgot?" he asks in disbelief.

  "I’ve been busy," Adam responds shortly.

  "Whatever. This is probably the biggest fight of the year!" Dave laughs, and Adam gives him an unimpressed eye roll.

  "It’s hardly the biggest fight of the year. But I think O’Neil really has a shot this time."

  "No shit?" Dave asks, surprised.

  "Yeah. He’s been working out with Mike Greene. It’s always been his speed that kept him back, but Mike…" Adam continues to talk, but I turn back to the food while they bond.

  The guys sit in the living room, watching the pre-fight interviews. They fall into a casual comfort with each other, but neither ever truly drops his guard. I steal glances at Adam every opportunity I get, and on rare occasions, I catch him watching me too. Even though I have no idea what he’s talking about, I find myself jumping in and out of their conversation.

  "Can I help with anything?" Adam asks when he comes to the kitchen to grab another beer.

  "Nah. I’m good. Thanks though."

  I move so he can squeeze back past me in this postage stamp of a kitchen. But instead, he leans his hip against the counter and tips the beer to his lips. I watch from the corner of my eye, not sure what to say or how to react to his sudden attention.

  "You’re weird," Adam says, catching me completely off guard.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You’re weird," he repeats with a serious look, but his eyes are dancing with humor.

  "Um, where I come from, that is not exactly a compliment."

  "It’s not a compliment where I come from either. But that doesn’t make you any less weird."

  I blink at him for a minute, trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to respond to something like that. "Well, I officially think you’re weird now too. Who says that to someone they barely know?" I snip, causing him to laugh.

  "I’ve met you maybe five times now and you are either terrified or awkward every single time."

  "Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not always—"

  He interrupts me. "But just now, when I showed up, you were bossy and filled with attitude while talking to him." He lifts his chin in Dave’s direction.

  "Were you eavesdropping?"

  "Oh please. These walls are so thin I can hear you chewing your food every night at dinner. But in this case, yes, I was eavesdropping." He pulls another sip from his beer.

  However, Adam doesn’t just take a sip like your average person. No, that would be too easy on me. He lifts the beer to his luscious lips and tilts it up—his smoldering eyes never leave mine. His glare is intense and, if I’m not wrong, a little bit teasing. I look back and forth between his eyes and lips before turning away.

  "You hear anything interesting?"

  "Just that Dave lied when he told me you wanted me to come over for dinner."

  "Son of a bitch," I mumble under my breath.

  "It’s okay. Watching you stand up to him back there was worth it. Makes me feel a little better about leaving you last night."

  "Adam, he loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me."

  "Well, sometimes those lines can get blurry. I’m just glad to see this fiery and pissed-off side of you. It looks better on you than the woman I met last night." He grins and his eyes slide over my body in an obviously flirtatious way.

  "Well, it’s good to see that you actually own clothes and don’t just live in sweats." I smile, raking my eyes over him in the exact way he just did.

  He laughs, and his easygoing smile steals my breath. "What can I do to help?"

  "Go entertain Dave. Any minute now, he’s going to start whining for dinner."

  "Ugh. I’m still not sure how I feel about him," he says honestly while glancing over to where Dave is watching TV.

  "He’s a good guy, but if you want to hang out in here, I’m sure I can find some way to put you to use. You botched my peppers, so chopping anything is out. But if you want to stir the meat, I won’t stop you."

  "I did not botch the peppers. That is how they were supposed to look," he says defensively.

  "I’ve minced garlic with bigger pieces than the peppers you crushed."

  "Hey! How about you stop complaining and perhaps give me some credit for multitasking. I was eavesdropping while I cut those." He smirks, and it makes my cheeks heat.

  "Well, regardless. I’m benching you from knife duties. Grab the spatula, tough guy, and make sure the meat doesn’t burn."

  He puts his beer down and moves to the other side of the kitchen, and just as he squeezes past me, his hand drags across the small of my back, sending an unfamiliar shiver over my entire body.

  I look away and silently mouth, "Oh my God!" as he begins flipping the meat.

  What the hell just happened? Where did this funny and charming man come from? This Adam is a far cry from the one I met yesterday. Sure, he was kind and gentle, but this is different. This is a man who seems to be interested in me as a woman, and the best difference of all is that fact doesn’t scare the hell out of me. I bite my lip and turn my head away from him to hide my giddy smile.

  Dinner comes and goes, and I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled so much. Adam never reverted to the quiet guy I originally thought he was. He’s smart and witty, two traits that made him even more attractive to me. Our conversation flowed easily, and my naturally shy disposition vanished. We chatted like old friends. God, it felt amazing. I can’t even swear to you that Dave was even at the table while we ate. It seems Adam and I dominated every conversation.

  "Riley, that was delicious," Adam says, standing to clear the table.

  I quickly try to stop him. "You don’t have to do that!"

  "No, sit. You cooked. I can manage the dishes."

  "We should hire him," Dave leans over and loudly whispers in my ear.

  I giggle for a minute before heading toward the sink to stop him.

  "I have a trick," I say, stepping beside him. I catch a whiff of his cologne, and it takes my every conscious thought not to sway toward him. "Watch." I fill the sink with warm, soapy water and pull the dirty dishes from his hands, dropping them unceremoniously into the water. "There. They’re soaking," I announce.

  A slow smile creeps across his face. "Who’s going to wash them after they soak?"

  "I’ll guilt Dave into doing them in the morning." I return his smile.

  "She really will," Dave confirms from the couch, but Adam’s eyes never leave mine. It’s unnerving but exhilarating all at once.

  "Make sure you do that." Very gently, he reaches a hand forward to brush a hair out of my face.

  I freeze, but not because I’m frightened. I can’t move as I watch his hand tenderly moving toward my face. It’s so slow that I know I could easily stop him if I wanted. It’s a purposeful speed that makes my heart skip a beat. He knows I’m skittish and he decided to take a risk, but he made sure to make me feel comfortable while he did it. The flutter in my stomach returns at full force.

  "So yeah, I bet the fight is starting soon." I look down and step away, wishing I could have stayed. Story of my life.

/>   "Right," he responds without moving an inch.

  I look up to find him staring down at me with a sudden and unexpected heat in his eyes.

  "You really need to get new contacts," he mumbles before walking away.

  I collect myself for a few minutes before following him over to the couch. I look between the two men sitting on either end before settling for the tattered recliner nearest to Dave.

  "No way!" Dave shouts, and Adam’s lip lifts a miniscule amount. "Did you see Lopez tonight? He’s huge!"

  "He made weigh-in though," Adam challenges.

  "Maybe with one leg off the scale." Dave begins to laugh, and Adam joins him in the most amazing and unexpected show of humor between the two men, who before this moment have been cordial at best. I can’t help but laugh right along with them.

  The announcer begins his exaggerated introductions that vibrate over the speakers of our cheap TV, causing us all to automatically hush. Both of the competitors enter the ring and I sigh to myself when I think about how delicious Adam would look crossing through those ropes.

  "I’ll be right back." Dave stands up and heads down the hall, rubbing his stomach, but Adam never drags his eyes from the TV.

  A few moments later, the fight begins and he immediately slides forward to the edge of his seat. I don’t particularly care for boxing, but watching Adam get excited about it makes me curious. He doesn’t speak or even cheer, but as the rounds progress, I watch him more than the TV. I begin to think he's forgotten I'm even in the room. With every punch thrown on the screen, he twitches to the left or right, and at one point, he dips completely. I use a hand to stifle my laugh, but he immediately swings his gaze to mine. I try to wave him off and excuse my laughter with a hand gesture, but he cracks a knowing smile that makes me blush.

  "Something funny, Riley?"

  "No. No." I continue laughing. "It’s just I wasn’t sure which match to watch—the one on TV or the imaginary one you were fighting."

  He gives me a quiet chuckle and leans back against the couch, scrubbing his hands over his jeans. "Sorry. Habit."

  "So you really are a boxer, huh?" I ask, and his bright smile fades.

  "I am," he answers shortly.

  "You ever been to one of these big matches? I bet it would be exciting to watch one of these in person."

  A glimmer flickers back into his flat eyes and he nods. "Yeah, I’ve been to a couple. It’s always…fun."

  "Cool." I say awkwardly, looking down and plucking imaginary fuzz from my pants. "Hmm. I wonder where Dave went?" I peek down the hall to see the bathroom door shut but the light glowing from the crack under the door. I fully expected Adam to go back to watching the fight, but instead, he crosses his legs, knee to ankle, and tosses an arm over the back of the couch.

  "So where are you from, Riley?"

  "Florida," I answer without thinking. My eyes go wide when I realize what I just admitted, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t catch the truth as it flies across the room.

  "Florida? Really?" He appears shocked.

  "Well, at least that’s what I like to tell people. I’m actually from here in Ohio, but doesn’t Florida sound like more fun?" I nervously laugh as he narrows his eyes.

  "Yeah, that does sound more exciting than Ohio. You ever been down there—to Florida, I mean?" He asks suspiciously.

  "Yeah. I went to Disney World once when I was in college. I loved it. What about you?" I attempt to change the focus of the conversation to him.

  "I’ve been to Disney a couple times."

  "No, I mean, where are you from?"

  "Oh, I grew up right near here actually, but these days, I’m kind of a nomad. I stay in Chicago a lot," he responds, glancing back at the fight. I could be wrong, but I think it’s more to avoid the conversation than to actually catch up on the action.

  Normally, I would enjoy the silence. I can’t screw up anything else like I did with my little Florida slip up if I don’t talk. But I’m too curious about him to keep myself from starting another conversation.

  "So, how’d you get into boxing?"

  He turns back to face me, and a staggering warmth slides over his face. "My mom put me in boxing when I was a kid. Apparently, I was quite the handful when I was young, and she wanted to give me an outlet to get out the pent-up frustrations." He pauses to laugh to himself.

  "You stuck with it all these years?"

  "I did. By the time I hit middle school, I was a good bit larger than most of the other kids my age, and while football seemed like the likely sport, I just wasn’t interested. I grew up with just my mom, and I took the role of man of the house very seriously. I wanted to be able to protect her. I took up wrestling and enrolled in every self-defense class the community center offered, and when I wasn’t there, I was at the boxing gym." He stops to look over at me knowingly. His words from that first night flash into my head.

  You remind me of my mother.

  "Oh." I look down at my hands, twisting in my lap.

  "Have you ever taken any self-defense classes, Riley?"

  "Um. Yeah. Dave’s taught me a good bit. I swear I’m not always frightened like I was last night," I say unconvincingly.

  "Was he the same one to teach you how to handle a gun?" he asks sarcastically.

  "Hey! I know how to shoot. I just hate guns," I laugh, trying to defend myself.

  "Let me teach you some self-defense stuff."

  "What? Why?"

  "Because I think it would make you feel a little more secure to know how to properly defend yourself. I mean, combine that with your stellar skills behind the barrel of a gun and you wouldn’t have to fear anyone," he teases.

  If he only knew how much I really have to fear. No self-defense class will make me feel secure, but I still laugh at his silly comment. It feels good to make light of it even if I’m the only one in on the joke.

  "It’s okay. You don’t have to do that," I answer, but he leans in close to catch my eye.

  "Dave seems like he means well, but I promise I can teach you better, Riley. Let me help you feel safe," he implores and the gentleness in this huge man’s tone has me immediately agreeing. "Good. I’ll get a mat and move aside my furniture. We can do it in my apartment."

  "Oh, God. That sounds like a lot of trouble. You don’t have to do that."

  "No trouble. Tomorrow after work, okay?"

  "Um, I guess."

  He nods and turns right back around just in time to watch the last thirty seconds of the fight. "What happened to Dave? He missed watching Lopez get destroyed."

  "You know, I’m not sure." I get up and head down the hall. I knock on the bathroom door, but I hear his voice from behind me.

  "Over here, babe," he says from inside his room.

  I walk to his doorway to see him lying on his bed, reading a book. His legs are crossed at the ankle and he’s wearing those nerdy glasses I tease him about all the time.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Reading," he states obviously.

  "Okay, why are you reading? You missed the entire fight."

  "I needed some fresh air," he says with a smile.

  "In your bedroom?"

  "The sexual tension was strangling me."

  My head snaps back in surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "All those little side glances and flirty smiles you two were tossing around the room were suffocating me." He makes a gagging gesture before giving me a wide smile.

  "You have lost your damn mind! I was not flirting with him." I was totally flirting with him.

  "No, you were mentally undressing him while he flirted with you."

  "Shut up!" I whisper while reaching back to pull the door to his room closed.

  "Don’t get all uppity. I was just giving you two some alone time to talk. That’s all."

  "Well can you come back out? It’s awkward that you just disappeared."

  "It can’t be that awkward considering I’ve been in here for over a half hour and you are ju
st now coming to look for me." He winks and stands up off the bed. "I’ll be right there."

  I head back to the den and find Adam sitting on the couch, fighting back a laugh while toying with the label on his beer.

  I let out a loud sigh and ask, "Eavesdropping again?"

  "Nope." He shakes his head but never looks at me. I let out a breath thankful that he didn’t hear— "But I did hear the conversation."

  "Seriously! Why the hell does this crap only happen to me?" I shout in frustration.

  He finally looks up, and the glowing smile he’s wearing is infectious. We both burst out laughing, because really, what the hell else can you do? My face is bright red with embarrassment, but neither one of us can stop long enough to acknowledge it.

  I calm only to plead with him, "Please pretend you didn’t hear that."

  "Okay. But it’s more fun to assume you are mentally undressing me every time you look at me." He begins to laugh again.

  I throw my hands up to cover my face. Fire trucks have nothing on the color red my cheeks are sure to be right now.

  "Oh my God. You really did hear. He’s an idiot. You can’t believe anything Dave says," I say from behind my hands.

  "Okay, okay. I should really go. I need to get a move on ordering those mats. " He stands, and I immediately move my hands, not ready for him to leave yet. His eyes are warm, and the smirk on his gorgeous face warms a few of my own places too. "So tomorrow night. My place, okay?"

  I nod, and he turns to walk away. Just before he gets to the door, he pauses.

  "For the record, you can believe some things he says, because I was absolutely flirting."

  My eyes go wide, but before I have a chance to squeak out a witty retort, he leaves.

  "Told you," Dave says from the hallway, leaning up against the wall.

  "I’m going to kill you!" I shout at him only to hear Adam laugh from outside the door. Fantastic!

  I don’t know what the hell happened last night. When I accepted Dave’s invite to dinner, I expected to go over there, have dinner with a shy, frightened woman and her asshole cousin. Instead, I met the amazing Riley Peterson. Smartass extraordinaire. Sarcastic aficionado, and hands down the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s not like the plastic women who usually throw themselves at me, but that only made her more appealing.