by Renea Porter
Walking into the kitchen, I open a beer. It is almost a nightly ritual. I always limit myself to one before a shower. “Want anything to drink?” I yell over my shoulder.
“I’ll take water if you got it,” she says, meeting me in the kitchen.
I have to keep my jaw from hitting the ground. She looks gorgeous. My shirt hits her mid-thigh, and fuck if I am not turned on from the sight. If I had it my way I’d prop her up on the counter and fuck her right here.
I reach in the fridge, thankful for the cool air to my head, and hand her a bottle.
“I’ll try to be out of your hair as much as possible and hopefully I’ll be gone sooner rather than later,” she confesses.
I lean against the counter, crossing my feet, and open my can of beer. “It’s no bother really. Stay as long as you like.”
She twists the cap on the bottle and the shirt hikes up an inch and I almost see her panties. She has me, hook, line, and sucker. Unfortunately, she sees where my eyes travel and she smirks, though it was more of a devilish grin. A sexy devilish grin.
“Well, I better let you get some rest,” I acknowledge.
“I think you should talk to me until I fall asleep,” she quirks.
I follow her to the living room and sit in the chair next to the couch, while she climbs under the sheet and blanket. I take another swig of my beer.
“So how old are you?”
“I’m twenty five,” I respond. So, there is a seven year difference between us, yet she makes me feel like a teenager by the lustful thoughts I’m having. “By the way, Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks.”
I can’t imagine what it must be like to walk a mile in her shoes. She has a story and I really want to hear it. I’m just not sure she is ready to tell it.
“So what’s your story, Cheyanne?” I love saying her name; it was as beautiful as she is.
“I’ve been in a lot of foster homes throughout my life. I lost count of how many actually. And the last family I lived with wanted to send me back into the system so I just ran away. Figured, if I could make it on my own until I was eighteen then I’d be a legal adult.”
“Why did they want to put you back into the system?” I question.
“Because I was getting into fights at school and that’s just when I went. Sometimes I just skipped and didn’t go. They found me to be too much to handle, I guess,” she confides.
“Now I know why you have such a hard exterior. But I see the real you, Cheyanne. You’re a good person. You were just dealt a shit card in life,” I express. “What about your parents?”
There is silence because Cheyanne doesn’t answer my question. When I peek over at her, she is out cold. I watch her for a moment before pulling the sheet and blanket higher up. She looks peaceful as she sleeps while her long blonde hair splays everywhere. Lavender, she smells like lavender and vanilla. So good. I just want to fist my hand in her hair and inhale the fumes, to imbed the scent into my brain, just in case I never get to smell it again. Resistance has to be my strong point because I hold back, turning out the light, I blindly walk back toward my room. Shutting the door behind me, I sit on the bed drinking the last of my beer.
I know I can get in so much trouble if my dad knew one of my clients is staying here. It is wrong of me, but I can’t see the point on sending her back out onto the street. She has a heavy burden on her shoulders and I am not sure how else to help her other than to offer her food and a place to stay.
As much I want to wrap my arms around her body and tell her everything will be okay, I can’t. No one can see us be that way. And even though I am the owner’s son, it is strictly prohibited to fraternize with the clients, and I have to be the good example. Cause if I did it, the others would and that would be a mess. The gym is a structured place for the trainers and their clients, which leaves room for little to no error.
Remembering Cheyanne will need her clothes, I move to put her clothes in the washer, and figure I’ll be up early enough to throw them in the dryer in the morning, and now I am too exhausted to even shower.
***
Sitting outside on my balcony I am watching the sun rise. Last night proved pointless to even try to sleep. I kept checking on Cheyanne and making sure she was okay, even though I knew she was. I guess I was afraid she would feel spooked and leave without a word. In reality I think she felt safe here and it’s probably the most comfort she had for sleep. I walk quietly to the laundry room and shove her clothes in the dryer.
I don’t want Cheyanne to go back on the streets ever again. She deserves much better than that. No one deserves that kind of cruelty, no matter who they are. I am determined to make her one of the best fighters; she has so much fight in her, metaphorically and literally. The only person she has to prove that too is herself.
Walking into the hall, I decide to get my shower in before making breakfast. After a shower I throw on a pair of track pants, and a company tee shirt. I start the coffee pot and move around the kitchen as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb Cheyanne. She still looks so peaceful. I could watch her for days or even weeks. She has me captivated.
Searching the fridge, I find eggs and bacon to go with the English muffins I have. I get the two pans going and quietly move around to get her clothes out of the dryer and fold them as best as I can. I can’t fold for shit. Carrying her clothes and now clean bag too, I come back into the kitchen to find the most gorgeous blonde sitting on the stool at the counter with coffee already in her hand. She even looks sexy first thing in the morning. My shirt is hiked dangerously high as she sits on the stool. I really need to get laid to get this out of my system.
“Good morning,” she announces.
“Good morning to you. Your clothes are clean. I’m not the best folder though,” I admit, setting her clothes and bag on the sofa.
“Thank you. I really appreciate your generosity and letting me stay here. I mean, I could be a serial killer,” she admits, with a devilish grin.
Turning the heat higher on the burner, I shuffle the eggs around and turn the bacon before putting it on a paper plate.
“Somehow I highly doubt you are though,” I wink, plating the food for each of us. “Now eat up.”
“This is way better than waffle house,” she points out.
“Today, we celebrate your birthday. I’m taking you shopping for things you need for training, and whatever else we can find.”
By her reaction, she is taken aback by what I said. “Why are you being so nice to me? I told you I didn’t want to be a bother,” she quips.
“Quit using that bullshit with me. I’m your trainer now and you are my client. You wanna be one of the best fighters in the area?” My tone is thick with harshness.
“I want to be the best, not one of the bests,” she admits.
I can’t help but grin hugely.
Chapter Three
Cheyanne
I can’t believe my ears. Cash wants to celebrate my birthday today. He doesn’t even know how much that means to me.
“You know how long it’s been since I celebrated my birthday?”
“I don’t. But today, things change.”
Yes today was a new day, for the new me. I hope I am ready for the change.
“Now, as much as I love seeing you display my shirt, you need to go get ready. We have shopping to do.” He chuckles.
Oh god, he loved seeing his shirt on me. I slowly move off the stool as to not give him a peep show and grab my bag on the way to the bathroom to change. “Thanks for breakfast,” I shout over my shoulder.
“Anytime,” he replies.
I hope he doesn’t know how much he really affects me. In more ways than I can say or feel. My body is running on overdrive when he sat so close as we ate. I want to touch him, in every sexual way a woman can touch a man. It was almost impossible not to, but I resist, hoping the wait will be worth it in the end.
Ruffling through my bag I pull out a fresh pair of panties and a bra, deciding not
to torture Cash too much. Putting those on, I pull a green tee shirt over my head, pairing it with dark wash jeans. They make my butt look amazing. I desperately need a fresh brush. Mine reeks, so I use Cash’s comb and try to make my hair look presentable as it reaches all the way down my back. I apply red lipstick and lengthen my eyelashes with mascara, causing my blue eyes to pop.
“Alright, I’m ready,” I announce.
“Okay, off we go,” Cash says, twirling his keys around his fingers. I slip my feet into my flats and out the door we go. I slide into the passenger seat of Cash’s Camaro. It is my dream car. “Do you mind if we take a little road trip and go out of the area?”
“No, that’s fine. As long as you aren’t a serial killer.” I giggle.
“Well, the reason is because I don’t want anyone seeing us together, outside of the gym. The trainers aren’t allowed to step outside of the trainer, client relationship if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, yeah, I get it,” I replied.
So, what he really means is that the trainers can’t fraternize with the fighters. Damn, who the hell made up that rule? They suck.
He smiles at me and I can’t help the butterflies that are fluttering in my stomach. I reach over and take control of the radio and come upon a song called ‘Crazy in Love by Beyoncé’. The beat makes my body move on it’s own as I sing along to the words, making Cash laugh. I giggle because I never felt so free. When the song is over, a more mellow melody comes on and I sing to it as I look out the window.
One thing I’m not is shy, even around new people. Cash and I just make small talk on the way, and it just feels natural between us, like we’ve known each other a long time. I learn he is an only child and his parents have been divorced since he was a teenager. Now his father is marrying again and he likes his new step mom. He was born and raised here in Boston and he has the typical accent that comes with living here. His arm muscles bulge under his tee shirt sleeves. But I don’t see any tattoos though. His apartment is in the Dedham area and it is an area I am most familiar with.
Forty minutes later, we pull up to a sporting goods store and wander inside. Cash leads the way and we pick up my own fingerless MMA gloves. They are pink and black. I try on some workout outfits, body hugging pants and tanks, and I even pick out a pair of black gym shoes. I feel like a kid preparing for their first day of school.
“How come you are being so nice to me?” I question again.
“Why not? You won’t be living on the streets any longer Cheyanne, at least not if I can help it. You were born to be a fighter and that is just what we are going to make you.”
We stand in the checkout line with everything I need. “Thank you,” I say. But somehow with him buying everything now I feel like I owe him and I don’t like that feeling. So the next best thing is to be the best fighter I can be and show him the gratitude he showed me. I almost feel like crying but I wouldn’t allow the tears to show my weakness. I hold my head high and smile as he pays.
I really like my new birthday. I am spending it with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen and it is just something between us that click, like bread and butter. Now, if he can come to the same realization, then that would be even better.
After paying, I help Cash load the trunk before we head back out. Ten minutes later, he pulls up to a bakery which has me very confused. “Mind if I just run in here quick?”
I take that as my queue to wait in the car. “No, go right ahead.”
He pulls the door open to the bakery and I enjoy the view from behind as he lets an older woman exit. He has a nice ass. The thought of groping it makes me smile. A moment later he is sneakily putting something on the back seat and he doesn’t allow me to look.
“Did ya miss me?” He winks, sliding back into the seat.
I swear if he keeps this flirting up I won’t be able to resist. I just shake my head and smile at him. “So, no girlfriend?”
“No. I’ve dated, but none have stuck around long enough to make an impression. And they couldn’t handle me training women fighters even though it was strictly prohibited to have anything else going on. They were just insecure I guess.”
“What’s your take on Vanita? She seemed nice when I met her in the locker room.”
“The thing you need to know is that we are all family there. Some are riding you now, because you are the new girl and they don’t know you. They’ll come around though. Vanita is one of the best girls there, she has a great personality and she’s legit. She’d be one I’d want in my corner on a bad day and the girl can party like no one’s business.”
Those words speak volumes to me. I am glad that Vanita really doesn’t have ulterior motives and she’s the real deal.
“Good to know. I just want to make sure there weren’t any ulterior motives there when we met.”
“She’s genuine, just don’t piss her off.” He chuckles. “I train her and a few others. Now we just need to make a trip to the grocery store and were all set.”
***
Back at the house, Cash and I unload the groceries but keep the gym stuff inside since I can put those in a locker at the gym. Reaching in the backseat he brings a box inside, not letting me see it. “This is a surprise for later,” he teases.
“Oh really,” I arch my eyebrow.
“First, I’m going to make dinner and then you’ll see.”
“Fine, but let me help,” I lecture.
I stand next to him as he put things away and on the counter. “You like stir fry?”
“Love it.”
“Here chop these up for me.” He hands me carrots, peppers, and an onion. “Knife’s in there.” He points to a drawer.
He stirs the beef in a wok with a little oil and throws in the veggies when it is ready.
“I should probably get my own place. But I’m not sure where and I guess I need a job first. Can I use you for a reference?” I ask nervously as we sit to eat.
“Yes, you can use me for a reference. You’ll have to work around your training schedule though. We can make a schedule if you want that way employers know when you’re available. Something part time should be efficient for the time being, until you get some fights under your belt.”
“Great. This is really good by the way,” I say as I continue chewing.
If nothing evolves between Cash and I, at least I have someone I can call a friend. I am feeling very thankful.
“Alright, now time for your surprise.” He dots his mouth with a napkin.
He moves and brings the box on the counter, his back toward me so I can’t see what he is doing until a minute later.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Cheyanne, happy birthday to you,” he sings, bringing a candle lit cake to me.
My eyes well up with tears and I can’t forbid them to escape this time. I am crying and blowing out the candle through blurry eyes. I cover my face as the tears continue to flow, and there was no stopping them.
“Why are you crying? I hope this was okay.” He comes over placing his hand on my back, confused by my emotions. I am too embarrassed from crying to lift my head so he pries my hands from my face. I have the whole ugly cry face going on. “What is it?”
Instead of answering his question, I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. His cologne smells so good, masculine and woodsy. “No one has ever done this for me. I’m just so grateful. These are happy tears,” I say into his neck. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight against him. “I just don’t know how to thank you,” I say, pulling out of the embrace I so desperately want to stay in.
“You can thank me by eating some of this deliciousness.” He passes a fork to me and we both dig into the vanilla frosted, chocolate layered cake.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as I place the forkful of cake in my mouth. “This tastes like heaven. Best birthday ever.”
***
CASH
This girl has no idea how she is affecting me. Her vivacious perso
nality is addicting and you can’t help but smile just being around her. She is carefree and not shy; she is confident in the person that she is and that is a huge turn on for me.
She caught me off guard when she started crying. I thought I did something wrong. But when she wrapped her arms around my neck, I knew that hadn’t been the case. She was happy and I was the one making her happy.
I never want her to be sad. She deserves happiness. Feeling her in my arms gave me a taste of what it would feel like, and I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to kiss all her hurt away. Hell, she deserves more than I can even give her. But for now I’ll settle for being her person, which sounds so Grey’s Anatomy. I’m a sucker.
“I wasn’t sure what flavor you like. But who doesn’t love chocolate and vanilla?”
“You did good. I just can’t stop eating it, it’s so good. I’m afraid we’re blowing our diets.”
“It’s for a good reason, though. Birthdays only come once a year, and you deserve it.”
“Sometimes I don’t feel like I do. I’ve been a problem for so many people. I’m afraid to disappoint you. I don’t want to disappoint you,” she admits.
“You won’t. There is no more sad moments from this moment forward.” I stand next to her. “Come here.” I wrap her in my arms one last time. I kiss her lavender infused hair.
There is something between us and I am not sure I can resist her. I’m not sure I want to. My heart beat wildly in my chest and I just let her be, letting the silence fall between us.
“No matter what, I’ll be here for you. As your friend, whenever you need me. I feel some sort of connection with you. I’ll be here whenever you feel down, when the world is crumbling at your feet or when you feel happy. No matter what.”
My fears evaporate that moment. My strong arms would always hold her up when she needed and I did my best to convey that without sounding like a pussy. She pulls her head away and we stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. I take her sky blue eyes in; I let them see into my soul. This girl right here is mine.