by S. Ferguson
I’m not someone who usually delights in the pain of others but when Declan hits the floor I would have laughed my ass off except I found myself with an armful of pissed off blonde. Candice launched her body at mine with more strength than I would have guessed she had. I stepped back on my right foot, putting my body at an angle, and managing to keep my balance. Suddenly, I am very thankful for all my lessons with Ze.
Apparently, he was on a mission to make sure what happened…well, he wanted to make sure I could prevent that from happening ever again. Her right arm shoots out to hit me, and I see my opportunity. I quickly grab her wrist with my right hand, rotating her arm towards her body at the same time keeping her arm straight, before I slam my left forearm down on her elbow.
She screeches as her body is forced to bend in half, and she lowers down to one knee, trying to relieve the pressure on her arm. The next move Ze taught me in this scenario is a knee to the face and, man, is it tempting.
I keep her arm locked in the uncomfortable position, and my voice steady and even. She obviously knows if I put more pressure on her arm, it's going to break. A broken arm is bad, but an arm broken at the elbow? She would be lucky if she ever got to use it again.
“Touch me again, and this arm will belong to me.” I’m almost proud of the menace I can hear in my voice. She glares at me but nods. Before I can release her, Ron steps up. He gives her a look I’ve never seen on his face before, somewhere between rage and disgust.
“You ever come back here again, you’ll wish for death before I’m done with you,” he pauses making sure Candice is listening. “Bree is one of us. Declan is one of us, and you just fucking attacked them…in my motherfucking house. That means you may as well have attacked me. If you were a man, I would have already put a bullet in your skull. This is your one free pass.”
Candice visibly swallows, nodding her head more frantically. I quickly release her and back up, keeping my feet shoulder width apart, and my arms slightly bent, ready for another attack.
I really can’t wait to tell Ze about this. He should be damn proud of me, after he makes me run laps for using violence when it wasn’t completely necessary. But she did attack me; I can plead my case.
“This isn’t over, you bitch,” Candice hisses as she rubs her right arm and hobbles off.
“That was hot as shit. If I could get hard right now, I totally would,” Declan wheezes from the ground.
“Get up. You’re embarrassing yourself,” I say before walking back to the bar. Once I’m there, I realize I’m smiling, widely. For once, I don’t feel guilty. Maybe it's okay to be a little happy sometimes?
Once the drama calms down, the guys all go back to their pool games and gossip. Yes, these guys gossip. Being so quiet has its advantages. I know way more about these guys than I should, but I’m not one to talk about them. Half the time it’s just gross stuff about their sex lives anyway.
Declan emerges from Ron’s office after hiding for about 10 minutes. I’m pretty sure he was icing his balls.
“So, we gonna talk about how you’re a ninja?” he teases me as he sits down delicately on a stool across from me.
“I may have learned a little bit about defending myself.” I want to tell him about Ze, but I just can’t. I don’t know why it's so hard for me to just have a conversation. He’s not asking me about anything abnormal. I just can’t open up; these walls have been in place so long even I can’t bring them down.
“That was more than a little bit. That’s real training. Guess you were telling the truth about your knuckles.” He nods his head towards my hands. An unbidden image of us in the kitchen flashes through my brain, only this time Jake doesn’t ruin the moment and Declan’s mouth is on mine. My breath hitches, and I feel my body clench in response.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Declan says, his voice having a rasp to it that wasn’t there a minute ago. I bite my bottom lip and meet his gaze. I can feel the heat in my cheeks.
“Just thinking about training,” I lie. I don’t think Declan buys it, judging by the smirk he’s giving me, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You working out, or just learning to kick ass?” He reaches over the counter and grabs a handful of orange slices.
“You bastard! I had to cut all of those. You wanna snack on them, go cut some yourself!” I growl at him and swat at him with my cleaning rag.
“It’s almost closing time and look around. It’s only Ron’s guys here now, and they aren’t the kind who gets orange slices on their drinks. Except maybe Jake. Does he still drink that fruity shit?” He scrunches up his face in thought, and it might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“No, Jake’s a straight bourbon and beer these days. Might wanna keep that little tidbit to yourself, you know, man card and all,” I say, making myself smile. This is good. It’s good to talk and smile and be friends. Right?
Declan throws his head back, and barks out a laugh, before speaking again. “What’s funny is you think he had a man card at all.”
I give a little snort, and start to walk away, but Declan reaches out and grabs my arm.
“I like this side of you. I’ve never had this long of a conversation with you, or seen you smile so much in one night, or you know, smile ever. I like you even when you’re walking around like Wednesday Adams, but I really like you when you’re being Bree.” His voice is almost a whisper, but I hear it all the way to my soul. I feel a flicker of warmth in my chest.
“You don’t know Bree,” I whisper back, telling me, more than him. He doesn’t know what a damaged waste of time I am.
“I don’t know all of Bree, yet,” he corrects me, “but I will.” With that, he lets go of my arm and I make a quick escape. I distract myself with being busy with whatever random task I can find, but I never stop thinking about his words for the rest of the night.
17
Declan
I walked home that night with a limp in my step and a giant smile on my face. Progress. I’ve made progress with Bree.
I feel like she’s slowly starting to open up. I find myself wandering to the park and standing guard over her as she sits on her bench tonight, and I have full intentions of doing this every night. It might just be me, but I feel like she’s spending less and less time out there each night. Last night, I leaned against her building and watched her listen to her music, staring off into space. Only this time, I caught her head moving with the music and she only sits for about half the time she did on the first night I watched her. Progress.
The next afternoon, after my run, I decide I’ve really been putting off grocery shopping. I hate it. I know how to cook, but cooking for one is pretty fucking stupid. I just don’t think I can eat another meal that’s take out. Then, an idea pops into my head. Scrolling through my phone, I find Bree’s number. She probably doesn’t know I have it, but Ron gave it to me with instructions to use it for emergencies only.
Desperately needing groceries is an emergency, right? I tap my thumbs across the screen, wishing for the hundredth time that the screen was bigger or my thumbs were smaller.
Yo. Let’s get groceries. The state of my kitchen is horrifying.
I watch my phone like a fucking teenage girl for the next five minutes.
Who is this?
I probably should have said who I was to begin with. Damn it. Oh well too late now. I decide to have some fun.
It’s the man of your dreams B Girl. I want to take you away to a magical land called Whole Foods. They have everything you’ve ever dreamed of, for twice the price of any other place.
I stare at my phone, grinning like an idiot, and waiting for her response.
Yeah, that’s really not helpful. I don’t know how you got my number but lose it.
Okay, does she not have a sense of humor? Wait, what time is it? I look at the clock and cringe. Yeah, it’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon; she just finished training. She won’t tell me much about it, but I know she goes every day at one in the afternoon.
She’s probably worn out and in a foul mood. If I were a better man, I would feel bad, but seeing Bree is far too important to me.
Obviously you haven’t recovered from your workout yet so I’ll stop teasing ya. It’s Dec. I’ll be at yours in 20 with coffee. How do you take it?
This time, she only takes one minute to answer.
Black like my soul.
I grin, and shove my phone in my pocket, before grabbing my keys and heading out the door. The line at Starbucks is astronomical, so it ends up being more like thirty minutes before I walk around the corner to Bree’s building. She’s standing outside with her arms crossed over her chest, trying to keep warm. I take a minute to check her out, slowing my pace. She’s wearing one of those cute beanie hats that are way too big, a military-style jacket, and black skinny jeans with those ankle boot things girls like on her feet. Her eyes are lined in black eyeliner, and her lips have a slight sheen to them. I’m guessing lip-gloss or whatever the fuck it is chicks use that make their lips shiny. That shit usually tastes good, too. Immediately, my mind wonders what flavor Bree’s lips are, and my dick gives a little twitch. I quickly change my focus.
“Sorry, I took a bit longer than planned. The line was a bitch.” I hold her coffee out to her. She takes it with both hands, and uses it like a tiny heater.
“S’okay, coffee makes everything better.” She takes a careful sip of the hot liquid and closes her eyes, humming in appreciation. Interesting. So coffee is definitely high on Bree’s list of priorities. Maybe she really is my fucking soulmate.
“Anyhoo, I dragged you out this fine day because I am in dire need of real food. As much as I love being on a first name basis with every delivery driver in town, I need real sustenance,” I say, putting my hand on her lower back and gently nudging her in the direction we need to walk.
“Right, but how does this concern me?” she asks, between sips of her coffee. It’s gotta be somewhere between the fires of hell and lava in temperature, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“I need help and you need to get out and live a little, so we’re gonna start with you helping me grocery shop. Girls know all about that shit anyway. If I go alone, I’ll just end up with beer. Baby steps, ya know?” I say, leaning toward her and nudging her arm with mine. She rolls her eyes, and I’m pretty sure she’s smirking, but it’s hard to tell with the coffee cup that is glued to her face.
We walk a good block before she breaks the silence. “I’m not really good at this. I mean, with people. I don’t really know what to do with you,” she says, then bites on her bottom lip and turns her face away, but not before I see the pink tinge in her cheeks.
I stop and grab her shoulder, turning her to face me. She looks so tiny under that big beanie, her hair still damp and hanging over her shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, most guys I’m around, I know what they want. They want to hook up or they want me to serve them a drink. That’s what I do. I only know how to do that,” she says, raising her eyes to look at me. I can see some defiance in them, like she’s expecting me to judge her.
“Well, if the guys you’ve been around only want those two things from you, then they’re assholes. I, B Girl, am not an asshole.” I scoff like its common knowledge.
“Okay, maybe I should put it this way, what do you want from me…because I’m not hooking up with you. I never hook up with Ron’s guys. And there isn’t a bar here.” Bree looks right in my eyes as she says this, and I know this is a pivotal moment. If I answer this wrong, she’s gonna shut right back up, and I’m going to lose all the progress we’re making.
“I just wanna go grocery shopping. If you’re super helpful, I may throw in lunch for you. How’s that sound?” I ask, holding my elbow out for her to grab.
I grin, as Bree reluctantly loops her arm through mine. “Groceries it is, then.” We walk the rest of the way to the store in a comfortable silence.
Once I’ve grabbed a cart, I steer her towards the produce section. “What exactly are you looking for?” She looks kind of lost, turning around, and looking at all the fresh fruit and vegetables.
“You don’t cook, do you?” I ask, grabbing some bananas.
“Not really. My… I never learned how,” she says, sadness flashes across her face.
“I’m not the best cook either, but my mom taught me a little bit. My challenge is more cooking for just one.” I throw some apples in a bag, before weighing them and putting them in the cart.
“You eat alone often?” she asks quietly.
“You offering to come eat with me?” I say with a grin. I can’t help but wonder if that’s her way of finding out if I’m single or a manwhore… wouldn’t blame her after the Crazy Candice fiasco.
“Maybe. If you can guarantee you won’t give me food poisoning,” she teases, running her hands over some tomatoes.
“Grab me some of those, like six, I wanna make salsa,” I say, grabbing some onions, and looking back at her. I immediately burst into laughter as I watch her meticulously pick up each tomato, smell it, and then either put it in one of the produce bags or back on the display.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing?” I wheeze.
“You have to smell them. If they don’t smell right, they won’t be good.” She gives me a ‘Duh’ look.
“I’ve never in my life smelled a tomato. How can you even smell anything? The skin is still on it.” I return her ‘Duh’ look.
“I’m kind of a connoisseur of tomatoes. Just trust me on this.” She makes a point of turning away from me, as dramatically as possible, and continues smelling the tomatoes before she either puts them back or into the bag.
We spend the rest of our shopping expedition, continuing the light banter, and she smiles more than I think she ever has in an entire day since I’ve known her. Maybe in her entire life. When the cashier gives me my total, she makes big eyes at me and I laugh.
“I told you they would charge me twice as much as anywhere else, but it’s worth it.” I grab the bags and look over my shoulder as she follows me out of the store. “Get an Uber, will you? I’m not carrying all this shit back to my apartment.” I dig my phone out of my pocket and motion for her to grab it.
She takes my phone and orders the Uber while we sit on a bench outside, waiting. I feel like I should Google benches and symbolism; there always seems to be one involved with Bree.
After a quick Uber ride, we’re outside my building and Bree’s holding the bulk of the bags while I use one hand to dig my keys out.
“I told you that you should have gotten those out while we were still in the car.” She really is a smartass. Soul. Mate.
Yeah yeah yeah. Come on.” I hold the door open, as she slips under my arm and starts up the stairs.
“First door on the right,” I guide her as we reach the second floor, then I mentally shake my head. She knows where the apartment is; I doubt she’s forgotten that night.
Opening my apartment door, I head straight for the kitchen and drop my load on the counter. This is the worst part of grocery shopping in my opinion, having to put all the shit away, especially in my tiny-ass kitchen. We make quick work of it, and I realize we really do work well together. At the bar, in my small kitchen, we just flow. We never get in each other’s way.
After my mountain of food has been put away, I decide it’s time to make good on my offer to take her to lunch. “Where do you wanna go eat?” I ask her, closing the door to my now-organized pantry with triumphant glee. Bree totally reorganized it while getting irritated trying to find space for all my new items. Total win for me.
“You’re really going to get takeout after buying all these groceries in order to avoid take out?” Bree’s face is incredulous.
“You bet I am.” I don't miss a beat.
“You owe me Chipotle then for that hot mess,” she says, exasperatedly.
“Done!” I raise my hand for a high five. She rolls her eyes at me, and makes her way to the apartment door.
Afte
r grabbing Chipotle to go, lucky me has one located on the same block as my apartment, we find ourselves back in my living room.
“So, how about I make some salsa, and it can chill in the fridge while we watch a movie until we’re ready for more food?” I suggest, realizing too late how cheesy that suggestion sounds.
“Netflix and chill?” she asks, giving me a mocking look.
Instead of answering, I waggle my eyebrows lecherously at her and start pulling the ingredients for salsa.
Once the salsa is made and chilling in the fridge, I give Bree first pick of my DVD collection, and make myself comfortable on my love seat. The apartment is too small for a full-size couch. It always annoyed me because I could never just lie down and watch a movie, but suddenly it’s pretty damn convenient. I sprawl out, taking up as much room as possible, so she’ll be forced to sit close.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Bree says, looking at the loveseat and then me.
“What? You know how fucking expensive the cost of living is here, and a full-size couch wouldn’t fit. We’ll be fine. I showered this morning and everything.” I pat the cushion next to me.
She sits down, and then toes off her ankle boots, before bringing her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around her shins. I spread out with one arm behind her, and my legs spread wide so my thigh is brushing against hers.
The movie starts and I am momentarily stunned. She picked Equilibrium. Not many people know about this cult-classic, so I decide to see if it was a random choice or if she knows how magnificent it truly is.
“You know this isn’t a romance, right?” I say, casually grabbing a lock of her hair, and twirling it in my fingers. It’s way softer than I imagined. Not that I’ve imagined it. Not too often anyway.
“Yes, I know it’s not a romance. His wife is killed, and then he watches the other chick die, too,” Bree says, shooting me a stern look and pulling her hair from in between my fingers. So, she does know the movie. Interesting.