Fight for You

by Charisse Spiers

  "What kind of punishment?"

  I wiggle my wrist, allowing my watch to unstick from my skin and fall. "Should you choose to break the rules, you'll find out."

  She looks around the room before locking her eyes with mine. "And whoever said I would agree to such a thing?"

  "You agreed when you followed up with the second question."

  "Do you like riddles and trickery, Haddox?"

  "No. I'm a simple man. I interpret things as I see them. I can't help it if you don't see them the same way." I smirk when her jaw relaxes, revealing an opening between her lips. "So, hit me with the first question."

  She props her elbow on the table and rests her cheek in her palm. "Well, gee, since I've been caught off guard let me think. I didn't know I was getting into some silly game."

  "Baby, the games haven't even begun."

  Her bronze cheeks hint a pink in color forming in small circles. By her change in body movement, I can tell she crossed her legs under the table. She takes another sip of her coffee as if she's parched. "How old were you when you moved to New York?"

  "Eighteen."

  "How old are you now?"

  "Twenty-seven."

  "Are you and Reese some kind of body builders? Both of you are really muscular."

  "Something like that." I don't really want her to know what I do just yet. Most people know me under the identity of my fighter name and not my real name. I'm very selective in who I reveal my real name to and generally the two lives aren't crossed. I'm well known in the world of professional fighting, but right now I like just being a regular guy. If she's ever heard of me I would rather continue to keep those two worlds separate...for now. I've had enough fan girls to last me a lifetime.

  "Birthday?"

  "April 10."

  "Favorite color?"

  "Black."

  "Okay, see, stop right there. You can't have black as a favorite color. It's not really a color. Black and white are both used as more for saturation of color variations, white to lighten and black to darken. Original primary colors are red, blue, and yellow. They are then used in mixture with each other to create secondary colors and so on. You need to pick a different favorite color."

  She is completely serious right now. There is no laughter behind her tone and that's what draws me to her. She's ditzy but not dumb, passionate but not pessimistic. What girl really sits in the presence of a guy and goes over the rules of art over a simple question? Most girls would accept the answer and never think twice about it. Like a guy really cares about colors. We only really pick a favorite, because it's one of the most common asked questions by the female population. We learn in grade school it's better to go with the grain than against it, and that includes girls.

  "What do you want my favorite color to be?" I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. It comes with the topic of conversation. I’ll play.

  "You want me to pick your favorite color," she asks sarcastically.

  "Well, you're the one that thinks my choice isn't good enough; it's only fair that you pick the new one."

  "Just forget it, O'complicated one."

  "No, carry on. I'm interested to hear this. Give me what you got."

  She rolls her eyes and taps her fingers on her chin. Scanning from my face, she continues down my body as far as she can see. "I would say red suits you."

  "Oh yeah. Why's that?"

  "Well, because red is known to be a passionate and energetic color, as well as a very sexual one, bringing out lust that resides deep within a person. It's strong and masculine, taking on a role of leadership. It's a fun color to look at, but you find it hard to stare at for too long. It has the willpower to be both positive and negative on a person's mood. It's symbolic, because it represents love as well as war. You have to study the context to understand which emotion it represents: anger, aggression, passion, love. You need a little bit of it in your life, but too much can be negative. Based on the color of your shirt, I would also conclude that you concur with my presumption as well."

  I'll be damned. Why that little snippet is quite possibly the sexiest thing I've ever heard I'll never fucking know. Who would have thought something as simple as color to character comparison could be such a turn-on. Right now, I want nothing more than to bend her over this table and slam my cock into her, causing her to scream out as I bury myself deep inside. I must have patience. This one is going to be fun once I have her full attention.

  I look at her, studying her features. She remains silent as we sit here in a heated stare off. She wants me as much as I want her, but this one has to be handled with care. She's my best friend's friend, and one that I'm sure will be around for a while. Awkward situations are never good for anyone once you get finished with each other. I shake off the thoughts that are brewing in my mind. They can be continued later.

  "That would be perfect except for one thing," I state.

  "What do you mean?"

  "A man like me is incapable of love. Love is pure and meant to be intercepted by only those equally as pure and deserving. I have a blackened heart, charred and unrecognizable to the act, from being drug through the pits of hell and back. I'm not a good man, Piper. Most people have a filter that tells them when to stop, but I don't. I'm warning you now and I advise you to heed it. You should stay away from me, because I have set my sights on you, meaning I won't stop until I get what I'm after." You could ask me why I'm telling her this and I couldn't tell you. Normally, I don't have a conscience, but something in me wants to protect her, even from myself.

  Most girls would follow instructions, however, I'm very different. I've always been stubborn, having to learn everything the hard way. Cole is proof. I sit here looking at the man before me; the sexy as hell one, might I add. There's something about him that makes me want to know more. He's keeping something buried.

  It would probably be in my best interest to stand from this very table, say nothing more, and walk away, never looking back. The way my heart rate picks up as I process that option confirms that I can't. I don't want to. Actually, I'm jealous. I want to learn how to control my heart. I want to revoke the love that I have for Cole, to forever lock it up and throw away the key. Then, maybe I'll find peace.

  "What if I don't want to," I ask, treading lightly with my words.

  He studies me. He appears to be thinking. He is an amazingly sexy man. I'm starting to gather he thinks I want something from him by the long hesitation. "I don't want love," I state. "I want you to teach me how to turn it off. You think you're a bad man because you steer away from love, but I envy you. Loving someone isn't restitution, but self-ruin. I want out. Show me the exit. This, I will beg you for."

  "You want to become like me? Isn't it understood that all girls want the happily ever after with the white picket fence?" I want to laugh aloud, but I refrain. Instead, I laugh inside. I traveled down that road once and look at where it has gotten me. Most days I'm fine, until the storm comes, known as Cole Henderson. The only way to survive a storm is by standing in the eye, but somehow I always end up in the path directly in front of it, waiting for it to pick me up, use me, and toss me aside.

  Instead of standing up to him I become a puppet to his every want, allowing him to take from me over and over. Eventually, there will be nothing left of me.

  I have a goal, a path that I want to travel. I want to become a top fashion designer. In order to achieve that, I need a clear head and nothing standing in my way. I need to free myself from the ropes that bind me; the ones cutting into my flesh and holding me back. I've tried to do it on my own and have failed. What more do I have to lose?

  "Yes, I want to become like you. The only happily ever after I'll be chasing is the one that ends with alone and with a career. Will you help me?"

  "Piper, my world is dark and twisted. Everything down to the sex I enjoy. You seem like a girl with a good head on your shoulders. I don't think you know what you're asking." He really has no idea just how serious I am. When I make a deci
sion that's the way it is going to be. I don't back down.

  "I don't care. I'm already living in the dark. I might as well get some enjoyment out of it."

  "What about Alyvia? She made me promise not to touch you..." He's trying hard to get me to change my mind, though I don't know why. He's the one that started this shit. I was fine before his alpha ass bombarded my world.

  "Alyvia doesn't control what or who I involve myself with, casually or sexually. I'm grown. I always have and always will make my own decisions."

  He places his hands over his face. "What if this doesn't work and you form an attachment, wanting more? Most girls can’t do casual sex for very long, they just like to think they can. You live with her and she's part of my life. That would be a horrible idea if things ended badly. I'm always ready to move on after one time. It's just who I am..."

  I stand. I'm done with this conversation. It's just beginning to piss me off. He's assuming I am like most girls, but I am only like one girl: Piper Morgan. I do not favor comparisons. Cole and I have been apart for years. The only kind of sexual relationships I have are free from attachments. I am always emotionally detached from each person aside from one.

  I place my hands on the table and lean forward. “That’s sweet, but when you think you know most girls, you really should study the one you’re conversing with before making assumptions. You want to know what kind of girl I am? I fuck when I’m ready to fuck and with whom I decide is the lucky contender. I’m in control of my sex life and I’ll keep it that way. I’ve been casually fucking for years. For me, it’s mental, even freeing. I have it down to an art now. If you think I’m the good girl that’s barely spread her legs, keep thinking, because I’m the total opposite. I’ve accepted it. It’s just who I am,” I repeat as he did prior.

  I begin putting my things back in my bag. "Where are you going, Piper?"

  "You have until midnight to decide your stance and then I'm revoking the offer. I don’t beg. Sex is easy to come by. There is always someone looking for it around every corner. I have things to do. Saturday nights are always girls' nights and Alyvia likes to go clubbing. It's our one night to relax from school." I place my strap over my head, securing my bag to my body.

  "Sit down, Piper."

  I walk past my seat and stop beside him. I bend down until I'm at eye level. He is staring at my lips, something he does frequently. I close in until our lips are merely an inch apart. I can see his jaw tense. I place one hand on his cheek, resting it there. "Sweetie, no one tells me what to do unless I allow them to. As of right now I'm a free agent. If you want to taste these lips, I suggest you make a decision. The opening is only available for a limited time. Have a great day, Haddox."

  I stand and walk towards the door. He will never know how much of a phony I just was. Not kissing him was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and that says a lot. My heart is about to pound out of my chest. I feel shaky and nervous. This is going to be one interesting ride...and now, to make sure I don't fall off the bike.

  What the fuck just happened? I feel like my control is slipping and I don't like it at all. I turn and watch her waltz out of the coffee shop. Fuck me. I want her, and I want her bad. I know I shouldn't do this, but I'm going to do it anyway. I've always done what I want; just a little piece of my character that no one wants. I'm the selfish, arrogant, ass that doesn't give a shit about anyone but myself. I might as well stay true to who I am. No reason to change what's always worked for me.

  She just baited me with an active sexual history. She basically just told me she’s slept with a list full of names. She made herself out to sound like a professional whore. I should be turned off, should being the word of focus. What is the primary thought on my mind? I want on the fucking list. There is always a beginning, middle, and end. I want to see my name on it last.

  I can feel the tension building in my body. I crack my neck to the side, feeling the burn as it pops. My cock is aching, letting me know how much I'm depriving it. I haven't fucked in almost two weeks, which is unusual for me. I've been in the gym and the ring a lot more this past week, trying to fight some of the demons attempting to break free lately.

  There is something about her that is steering my mind, consuming it. It's probably just the chase. That's got to be it. Maybe I just need to fuck her out of my system and then I'll be able to move on. Tonight is the night. There is no reason to waste my time on someone else when what my cock wants is her. First thing is that I'm going to that club. We have some business to attend to and another man is not tainting what is about to be within my care.

  I remove my cellphone from my pocket and choose the contact from my favorites list. It rings once before he answers.

  "Hello."

  "Reese, find out where Alyvia and Piper are going out tonight."

  "Okay, bro, but why? You never go to bars for entertainment."

  "Because we're about to crash the party. Something suddenly sparked my interest that I need to deal with. There's a first time for everything."

  "Okay, I'll ring you back later."

  "Later, man. Thanks."

  I disconnect the call and stand. My mood is turning sour and fast. I need to go to the gym for a few hours. I have an eerie feeling about her, but I'm obviously stupid enough to ignore it.

  I stand in my closet attempting to decide what to wear. I live for Saturday nights. It's one night that I get to be free, one night I don't have to stress about school or a career, and one night I don't have to think about Cole. It's just me, alcohol running through my veins, and the dance floor.

  I shuffle through outfit upon outfit until I come to the perfect one; a short black dress that hits mid-thigh, constructed of a material close to leather, but much cooler. It shows off my curves, but still gives me enough room to dance. I remove the hanger from the rack and walk back into my room. My hair is freshly dried and I'm standing in my bra and panties.

  I turn from side to side in my mirror, inspecting my body, and trying to find something wrong with it. This is the kind of shit I start doing after Cole comes, takes from me and leaves, not saying a word for months at a time. Something has to be wrong with me or else he would want me again for something other than sex. My mom is tall and thin, precisely why she modeled; therefore, I take after her in the way my body is designed, except I ended up with a curvy ass and a rack that even I’m proud of.

  Stop it, Piper. You're being pathetic. You know what you have to do to make it go away...for a little while, at least.

  Removing the dress from the hanger, I pull it over my head and down my body until it sits just below my ass. I dabble and dip, brush and draw, smearing various colors and contouring until I'm fully made up and ready for tonight.

  As I add the matching jewelry, I catch sight of my bed and the remains from last night. I can still smell a hint of his cologne. In a rage, I rush to my bed and yank off my sheets until the mattress is bare. Balling them up, I walk to my door and toss them into the living room. I can't look at them anymore. If I do, I may just light them on fire. The realtors may not like that too much.

  I refuse to fucking cry over him. I've given him enough of me. I roughly grab my teasing brush and the hairspray. Grabbing one section of hair I spray, and begin attacking my long locks at the roots. "You keep doing that and you're not going to have any hair left."

  I look over and see Alyvia standing inside my room. "It wouldn't matter. All I'm good for is a piece of ass anyway. At least I am good for something, I guess. It's the only thing that numbs the pain he causes; being with someone else."

  "That's not true. To him you may be disposable, but to someone else you're an endangered kind. That guy would be one lucky bastard to protect you for all time. Hold on to who you are...for the only one that matters." She continues to ease her way further into my room, carrying a bottle of liquor with her. "Here, relax. I'll finish your hair."

  "What is it?"

  "Rumple Minz. It tastes like peppermint, so it's easy to shoot, to me a
t least. It's my personal favorite. Feel the minty burn."

  I twist off the cap and put the glass opening to my lips, tilting my head back so that the liquid flows to the back of my throat. I swallow, allowing it to run down my esophagus. Not bad. I watch as she teases my hair, fixing it to look like a movie star. "Alyvia," I ask, looking at her in the mirror.

  "Yeah..."

  "Have you ever been in love?"

  She never stops fixing my hair, placing pins here and there. "Once, but not like you are with Cole. I realized early on that he wasn't the one for me and broke it off. I just don't want to settle, you know?"

  I nod. I wish I had her strength. I'm strong minded in everything else but what I need to be strong in. "There, all finished."

  I grab my fire engine red pumps from beside my dresser and slide them on my feet. "Let's go. I need to dance."

  I walk into the main living area and grab my clutch off the bar. I've already put my cash, credit card, keys, and license in it for later, leaving the rest of my items behind in my big purse. Rule number one when dealing with alcohol: take nothing that you can lose aside from required items.

  She looks at her watch. "Cab should be here." I turn off my light and lock my door. Maybe I won't come home tonight. Some guy is going to get lucky. I need some fun....

  ***

  We finally get admitted into the club after standing in that long ass line. The music is bumping and there are bodies everywhere, grinding against each other. I let my body subtly sway to the music as I make my way toward the bar in the back of the club.

  The first thing I notice is the hot, shirtless bartender making drinks as I push through the never-ending crowd of people surrounding it. The bar is always more crowded than any other spot in the building. I love this place. It's crawling with hot guys and they have the best music around, not to mention the male staff is oozing sex appeal, because their uniform is jeans hanging low on the hips with the elastic brief band of underwear peeking out the top, spelling out the brand they each represent and nothing more.