Dare

by Allie Juliette Mousseau

  “Oh my God! Your nose!” I go running back to him. “I’m so sorry.”

  He’s laughing. “Isn’t my first bloody nose scrapper. I’m proud of you.” Josh lifts me into the air and holds me against him. “Those were sharp, forceful jabs. You definitely would’ve gotten away.”

  I smile at his praises.

  While hugging me, he walks over to the hook where his towel hangs, then he grabs it and holds it over his nose.

  “You gonna to let me go?” I giggle in spite of myself.

  Josh is quiet for a moment before he lets me down.

  An awkward moment passes as we stand there and look at each other. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I know what I’m thinking. I’m thinking I want to be in his arms again.

  “I’m going to get you some ice,” I deflect. “We don’t want Silva mad at me.”

  *****

  Josh keeps conversations between us light and easy now, just like they were when we first started getting to know each other. We learn each other’s favorite colors and foods, we discuss movies and books, sports, politics, the conditions of the world and, of course, philosophy.

  Ever since a few days after we got back from Denver, Britt has started bringing Charlie to the gym for lunch sometimes, and Charlie, Josh and I all eat together. At first, I wasn’t sure I liked the idea, but Charlie begged and begged, saying she was missing me and that she just wanted to let her giant pink bear say hi to Joshy again. In a moment of weakness, I said yes one time, and that set a precedent I hadn’t meant to set. The guys in the gym are all so funny—as soon as Charlie steps through the door, they all stop fighting and act like perfect gentlemen until she’s in the break room. It’s really very sweet.

  I thought lunches together would be awkward, but for the most part, they haven’t been—just fun and light. It’s obvious that Charlie adores Josh. I know I should put a stop to it, but there’s a tiny part of me that doesn’t want to. There’s a tiny part of me that loves to see Charlie and Josh together, even when it tears me apart at the same time. One of the sweetest things I hadn’t expected, was the few times Charlie stayed past lunch, Josh took the time to play with her in my office with the toys that he’d got for her – he just sat on the floor with the two of us sipping at make-believe tea and putting puzzles together – or whatever else Charlie wanted him to do.

  Josh is disarming me in so many ways. He asks all about Charlie and learns that when he does I can gush on forever. No one has ever been in my life that cared enough to ask before. He acts like he wants to know it all—her first steps, her first words, her favorite foods, her favorite games. I tell him about how she’s already started reading and how much she loves to be read to. The next day at lunch, he comes in with a thick, heavy bag from Barnes and Noble stuffed with children’s books and a cup of my favorite peppermint mocha. Charlie was thrilled!

  He makes me feel like we matter.

  That might make me more terrified than I’ve ever been because, although I know how to survive—close off my emotions, fight like hell and never surrender—except for Charlie, who gives and receives love so easily, so freely, I don’t know how to matter to someone else. It should be easy, right? It should be natural. Probably with normal people it is.

  We matter.

  *****

  If I ever had resolve, it’s crumbling. I know I’m about to burst from Josh’s close proximity and remembering how his body made mine feel that one night we shared. There are so many reminders—the brush of his muscles against me, the contour of his legs and the strength of his arms, working up a sweat as I throw punches into his waiting hands, or when he drives me to the floor in a hold I’m supposed to break. I know I don’t want to break free anymore, and at the same time, I’m afraid I’m going to break because of him.

  *****

  Our next session starts out too quiet. Gently, he wraps my hands in fighter’s tape to protect them, but he doesn’t look at me. There’s none of our normal friendly banter or conversation. He doesn’t say a word, but I can feel him smoldering, and I know that something volcanic lies underneath the surface. He’s mad at me. I try to think why, but before I can come up with a sufficient answer he grates, “Your training is almost over. I don’t think I can divide my time like this anymore.”

  He stalks over to the mats and leaves me sitting there with my mouth gaping open.

  Confused and reluctant, I join him. He says something, but I apparently don’t move fast enough.

  “When you do the roundhouse kick, you have to keep your hip positioned.” He sounds frustrated as he grabs my waist impatiently. Manually, he shifts my hips to the correct position. “For Christ sake, lean and balance,” Josh snaps.

  My brow furrows as his aggravation becomes contagious.

  I push his hands off and away from me. “I can do it myself.”

  “Really? Prove it.” He backs up and stands poised in front of me. “Come on and kick me.”

  I kick, but it barely connects.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” he challenges, and it’s not friendly. “Harder, scrapper, hurt me!”

  “Fine!” I want to kick him … I want to hurt him!

  Earlier today when I was massaging him, it got rough. Lately, he’s been Mr. Chaste during every massage treatment and every training session, never giving me any of his one-liners or sexual innuendos. Instead he’s stopped his rough-around-the-edges ways and dirty talking mouth around me. And honestly, I’m sick of it. I know I said I wanted to go back to just a business relationship with him, but now that I’ve gotten what I wanted, the lack of flirting is driving me insane. I can’t keep myself from wondering why he’s given up. It’s not his style. I thought for sure I’d be fighting him off of me.

  A thought hits me. Maybe he’s seeing someone else?

  Don’t be absurd, he’s had no time, I reason. And what the hell? He’s not even “seeing” me! But it doesn’t curb the jealousy the idea conjures.

  Why hasn’t he made another move? Did I suck so bad in bed? Disappointedly I think, It had been a while.

  I feel Josh’s hand wrap tightly around my ankle. “You’re not paying attention. Get your head in the game,” he scolds as he lifts my leg and throws me off balance.

  My hands meet the mat, and I bring up my left foot out of instinct, using his hold as leverage, and kick him hard, square in the chest.

  He swears and tumbles backward before catching himself. I leap to my feet and get in a fighting stance. “Get your head in the game,” I mock.

  “So that’s how you want to play?” He comes at me fast.

  I deflect his first moves. He tries to grab me, but I don’t let him.

  I’m not disillusioned, I know he could get me down in a fraction of a second if he really wanted to, but since he isn’t, I’m going to keep at it.

  “How was the massage today?” I sneer and land two jabs into his forearms as he protects his face.

  “It was awesome.” He drips with indifference.

  I kick him in the side, hard, and bounce back. “Fuck you!”

  “Fuck me?” He’s pissed off now. “What the hell did I do to you?”

  “More like what you haven’t done to me!” I shout and push my hands against his chest.

  “What does that even mean?” he shouts back.

  “Like you don’t know.” I take a couple steps toward him.

  “I’m done.” He throws up his arms and turns to walk away.

  “Why haven’t you tried to have sex with me again?” Wow! Saying the words makes me more frustrated than ever. The jealousy just erupts out of nowhere and threatens to split my heart in half. How can I have such a whiplash of emotions? “Wasn’t I as good as your other girls?”

  “What?!” He’s at me too quick and snags both of my wrists easily. “What did you say?” he demands.

  “You heard me, scrapper.” I twist my arms and lift them up quick at the same time I stomp on his instep. He falls hard but, never letting go of my wrists, he takes me
down with him.

  He rolls onto his back and I’m straddled over him. “Let me go!” I’m pissed at myself. How could I have said that out loud to him?

  “Not a chance!” He easily gets me on my back, pins me by my wrists and moves his body over me just right so I can’t kick or move my hips. I’m not getting out of this. “Tell me what you said.”

  I make a desperate, surrendering face. “Don’t ask me. Just let me go … okay?”

  “No. No it is not okay.” His eyes search me. “Not as good as my other girls?”

  I struggle against him.

  “Why haven’t you tried to have sex with me again?” he throws the words back at me, incredulous.

  “If you already heard me,”—I struggle against his grip to no avail—“why do you keep asking me to repeat myself?”

  “Because I can’t believe you said it!”

  “Get OFF of me!” I scream in his face.

  He lets go immediately and helps me to my feet. I feel the lump in my throat and the hot tears rising. I turn and start for the locker room.

  “Do you want me or don’t you?” Josh shouts at my back.

  I stop in my tracks.

  I’m so confused. I grasp the sides of my head.

  Do we really matter to you? How can I really know? When it’s too late?

  “I don’t … know how …”—I pant in exasperation—“to do this!”

  “Does anyone?”

  I whirl around. “Yeah, Josh, some people have their shit together, they know exactly how to do this. I’m not one of those people!” I retort.

  He takes a step forward, but I take a step back and he halts, holding his hands up to steady me like I’m a frightened animal. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s never going to be okay,” I whisper. I feel tears run down my face and look on, horrified, as Josh watches them.

  “Have I made a mistake?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Have I hurt you at all?”

  I shake my head slowly. “No.”

  “That’s a good start, right?” he says.

  “Why are you mad at me then?” I say through my teeth, trying to find firmer ground.

  He shakes his head and rubs his temples with his fingers. “I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated at myself because I want you! Because I don’t deserve you, because I want the chance to prove myself to you. I care so much … so deeply … about you and Charlie.”

  I stare at him. He looks like he’s on the verge of breaking. “I’m trying to be just your friend, Sophie, but it’s not enough.” He shakes his head. “It’s not enough for me anymore.”

  “I’m scared, Josh,” I admit.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He takes a timid half step toward me. “I’m never going to hurt you.”

  I swallow hard. Can I believe those words? Does he understand the context I put them in?

  “Maybe we should just square up now. I’ll take the wages that I’ve earned and just slip out of your life, and things can go back to the way they were for both of us.”

  “No! No, don’t do that.” He looks like he’s fighting ghosts. “Please don’t do that. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before you.”

  “Josh, you’re not …”—my mind races for logic in the midst of the chaotic, emotional storm—“you’re not the kind of guy to settle down, and that’s okay. And even if you thought you were, I don’t know what I am or what I can even be for you … but I know what I can’t be. Our night together has left a tattoo on my heart that’s never going to be erased. Your kindness to me and Charlie, I’m never going to forget that.” That lump in my throat turns to a sob and escapes between my lips. “I’m not the type of girl who can handle a one-nighter. I thought maybe I could be, I really wanted to be … but now I want … more … and, Josh, I can’t have more.” I turn, ready to sprint down the hall, but Josh gets to me before I can.

  He holds my arms in his hand and spins me to face him.

  “Please let me go, Josh. It’s better for both of us if you just let me go now. Forget everything I said.”

  I’m pulling away from him. He loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. My back hits the wall in the hallway, and Josh’s face is in my face, and there’s no direction left to run.

  “I want you, Sophie. I. Want. You.” His eyes are red and wet. “Answer the question, do you want me?”

  I nod.

  He releases my arms and cups my face in his hands. “I want you, Sophie. I love you.” His words penetrate me. “I love Charlie too.”

  “How do you know that?” I shake my head and feel his hands holding me, smell their masculine scent, feel their heat. I’m a broken mess. “What does it even mean? And what happens when you stop loving me, or her, or us? Do you even know what love is?”

  “I’ve never been in love. But I know I’ve never felt what I feel with you … with anyone else.” Impossibly, he moves in closer until he’s the only thing in my vision, in my senses, in my universe. “So we’re going to have to figure it out as we go along. I can tell you, there isn’t anyone else on this earth I’d rather figure it out with than with you. Sophie, you can want more, because I want to give you more. You can have more … we can have more.”

  Can I believe it? Do I dare believe it? Can I not be afraid? Oh God, his hands, so strong and protecting, like a shield I want to hide behind.

  “I have secrets, Josh—big, ugly secrets.”

  “We all have big ugly secrets.” He strokes my jaw with his thumbs. I melt when he does this. “I’ll still love you, whatever those secrets are, and I hope you can still care for me when you see all my unsightly shit. We can do this. Let me prove it to you, let me prove myself. I’ll fight for it—for you, for your love and for Charlie—harder than I’ve ever fought for anything before.”

  “Kiss me,” I whisper through my tears, through his words, through the flurry of emotions.

  He groans before he crashes his mouth to mine. I open my lips and allow him in. This moment won’t end with a kiss.

  One of his hands stays on my jaw, holding my face immobile, as his other hand slides down over my neck. He pulls me away from the wall enough so my head can tilt back. Josh gets full access to my mouth and deepens the kiss. Every emotion, every physical symptom—desire, fear, love, pain—all pool between my legs. The blood builds, and I ache for his hard, perfect body to take me again. I can’t wait to caress his tattoos and muscles and bury my nails in the flesh of his back while he brings me up to heaven.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Josh

  2005

  I let Ryder’s fist slam against my jaw. Since when did I become a pain junkie? Does it matter? For the moment it takes away the crushing sensation in my chest that I can’t deal with and the memories I can’t forget. Every night I close my eyes and every morning when I open them, Taylor is there, dead. Time and distance won’t change it. I’m not going to wake up one day and find him alive again. This is it. The hurt will be endless and the only way I can get relief is through the physical pain.

  I clip Ryder’s nose and hear it break. It makes me laugh when he cusses and spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

  He’s on top of me in a minute, hammering my face. Left, right, left, right—until I taste my own salty blood and feel my jaw knock out of place. I decide I’m not going to fight back today. I’ll let him knock me to hell and back. I deserve it after everything I’ve done.

  Right—that’s for my mom and dad, who had to send me here because I was too far gone to be forgiven.

  Left—that’s for my brothers and my sister, who have to pretend I went off to camp, never admitting that I actually let them down, along with my parents.

  Right—that one’s for Taylor, who was my best friend and will never see another day …

  Left—who will never play paintball with us again or draw another picture …

  Right—who I couldn’t save.

  Left—for the kid whose life I destroyed because of it. />
  “CADE!” a girl’s voice drifts in through the haze. “LIAM!” she screams. “Stop it, Ryder, you’re killing him!”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  I watch through swelling eyes as Liam pulls Ryder off of me.

  Just let him get it over with, I think, but I can’t move my jaw.

  “Look at me, Josh! Can you hear me?” Quinn is in my face now.

  She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Too bad she’s Liam’s. She’s faithful too. I know it for a fact because last week I grabbed her ass and she sprained her wrist she hit me so hard. She lied and told everybody she tripped on the porch steps. I felt fucking awful—I must have apologized a hundred times. I hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  Quinn is always saving puppies and shit.

  I don’t want saving anymore.

  *****

  Josh

  Present

  When I kiss her, I feel the fracture in the walls she’s put up around herself. She can hardly stand, her body becomes slack and weak as if she’s finally letting go of the heavy load she’s carried on her own for much too long. I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and I hold her there. We’re both breathing hard and heavy from the eruption of emotions.

  I’ve been at my wits end for the past two weeks, ever since Denver. All I’ve wanted was round two, and she’s been refusing give it to me. Damn, the woman has iron fucking willpower! Silva warned me not to frighten her off. He likes her, he said, and he likes me better when she’s around. Prick. But even then, I knew he was right; she has an effect on me, one that I’ve been becoming quickly addicted to.