Fight or Fall

by Anne Leigh

  She’s not going on a date with a fucking tool.

  Dia said yes for me, and I didn’t even bother taking it back. Sure, I was making it sound like I was irritated that she agreed to go on a group date for me, but inside I was actually going, “Hell yeah!” My left leg was still throbbing in pain when I woke up, but nothing would keep me away. So after punching bags with Emmett’s face as the target this morning, I was actually feeling slightly better. The thought of Emmett holding and touching Ava was enough to kill the pain, desensitize the reminder of that Brazilian bastard’s punishing kicks.

  There was no way I was missing this lame-ass bowling date.

  “Okay, I’m teaming up with you. I have no idea how to do this bowling thingy,” Dia said, her red lips in a pout. What the hell possessed me to date her? I was a blind fool. Her red hair tricked me into believing that she’d be great girlfriend material. She was leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  “Go ahead. Wait up there for me there.” I pointed with my right hand towards the lanes.

  Strike Zone was a popular bowling chain. Ava had requested for us to meet her there, fifteen minutes away from downtown Las Vegas. There were other closer locations, but they were all inside her old man’s hotels. When Emmett asked why she didn’t want to play at her father’s hotels, she wittingly answered, “Because all the machines will be rigged for me then I’d win all of them even if I didn’t know how to bowl.” She had thrown me a short look in passing, but I’d figured she wanted to be out of her father’s sight. There was an underlying animosity that hung in the air between Ava and her father. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was as if she was scared of him.

  The teeny bopper flirting with the teenage guy cashier eyed me and winked at me. Jeez, did they start flirting this young? I made sure that when my sister was this young lady’s age, fifteen or sixteen, the guys in her school knew who I was. That’s right, the guy who would beat their asses if they went anywhere near my sister or looked at her the wrong way. But Bee’s a good girl. She wasn’t wild or anything. She liked to stay home, bake, and gossip with Ava. Bee’s time in the hospital didn’t diminish her friendship with Ava. It might have actually gotten stronger, and I sure as hell was surprised when Ava and Bee entered nursing school together. Ava could have gone to college before Bee, but Bee told me that Ava waited for her so they could go to college together.

  “How much for size twelve?” I asked, grabbing my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, putting the car keys on the counter.

  “Eight bucks,” he replied, tapping on the cash register machine.

  I pulled out a ten and handed it to him. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks, man.” Nodding his head at me then turning to the flirty girl, he asked, “Camille, can you grab him a size twelve please?”

  She gave me a once-over and skipped behind a closed door to the right of the entrance.

  “You with them?” he asked, his head bobbing towards the direction where I could see Dia’s red hair. I couldn’t see all of them because of the wooden railing that acted as a divider.

  “Yeah.”

  “That girl there…she looks like a model. Dang, she’s hot.” He let out a low whistle. “No disrespect to the redhead, but the lady with those gray eyes, I think I recognize her…”

  “You know,” I started, “If you wanna score with your girl over there,” my head tilting to the Camille girl who’s now walking towards us with my bowling shoes on her hands, “don’t tell her you find another girl hot. But yeah, I agree with you.”

  I hadn’t even seen Ava, but I saw what the teenage kid saw. I’d seen it through the years. Her flawless beauty, in-your-face presence, and her innate gracefulness, it’s all there. How come I never made a move on her? Because she never gave me the time of day.

  Walking towards Dia who was sitting on a small bench, chatting with Emmett, I caught sight of Ava’s legs wrapped in tight-ass dark jeans, a green sleeveless top, and cute-ass gold bowling shoes. Her back was facing me; she had a bowling ball in hand, as if testing the weight.

  “Ava, make sure you have a grip on the ball,” Emmett called out before his gaze returned to Dia’s.

  Ava sure had a grip on my balls, because right now they were tightening up as she bent to fake throw the ball. I hurriedly laced my shoes up, leaving my Merrell’s on a chair and moved closer to where she was standing.

  “You have to put your legs slightly apart and you’re gonna bend your knees a little,” I instructed, her face leaning to the side and up, eyes surprised to see me.

  She giggled lightly, her face flaming in heat.“That sounds so dirty coming from you.”

  “You haven’t seen dirty,” I stated. I wore loose-fitting jeans so it would hide any evidence, but if she leaned back and moved a little closer she’d feel my erection nudging her ass.

  “Your girlfriend’s here,” she said, turning her face towards the lanes so I wasn’t able to see her expression.

  “Ex.”

  “She sure doesn’t seem like it.”

  “Why? Does it bug you, duchess?” I asked, grabbing a heavier ball, gripping it with my right hand and letting it hang straight down by my side.

  “Duchess?”

  “You don’t like princess so I’m calling you duchess.”

  “If she’s your ex, why is she here? Why is she always hanging around you?” Her small voice sounded irritated as she raised the ball in the air again.

  I stood behind her, holding on the heavier ball with my right hand, teaching her how to throw it. “Trust me, she doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

  I felt her neck tense.

  “How about you? Why is blonde dickwad always hanging around you?”

  “He’s a friend.”

  “A friend?” I asked, setting the ball I was holding down on the ball return. I grabbed another one from the ball return on another lane, this one was the lightest.

  “A childhood friend.”

  “You into him?” Gesturing her to put the ball she was holding back in the rack, which she did, I placed the lightest ball in her right hand.

  “No,” she replied, her voice clear. Tendrils of hair hung loosely from the ponytail she was wearing. Good thing I was still holding the ball or I’d have lifted those fallen strands and tucked them back in. She was turning my mind and my dick into her own little toys to command.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Emmett said, appearing on Ava’s left side. His eyebrows were raised, hands in his jeans, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Ava, I thought I taught you earlier how to throw it.”

  “You did.” Her eyes drifting to Emmett’s then facing back the lanes, and she said, “I just can’t seem to make the balls not go to the side thingy.”

  “You mean the gutter?” Dia now joining us, she rolled her eyes at Ava’s comment. “Surely you can remember that’s what it’s called.”

  I was just about to say something when Ava straightened her back, still holding the ball on her right hand, she turned towards Dia, her gray eyes turning darker, her right brow lifting. “Surely you can remember you’re not someone’s girlfriend anymore.”

  Shit.

  Dia’s green eyes flared, displeasure cemented on her face as her mouth compressed in a tight grin.

  Emmett broke the surmounting hostility. “Let’s just play. Ava and I against you and Dia. Is that cool with you, man?”

  I bobbed my head in the affirmative. Ava’s claws were out. She wasn’t a fan of Dia. Her face always held a sour note whenever I mentioned Dia to either Bee or Leif when the four of us hung out before. I didn’t understand why she’d have any opinion about Dia when Dia and Ava never really spent any time with each other. Maybe she’d gotten her information from Bee. Bee had tried to hide it from me, but I had a feeling she wasn’t Dia’s biggest fan either.

  By the time we were on the sixth frame, I was ready to pick Emmett up, body slam him on one of the lanes, or fucking throw his ass out on the pin deck while aiming all th
e balls at him for a couple of strikes. The way he lifted Ava up in his arms each time he threw a strike, the measly excuses he had for touching her waist or her arms while he pretended to show her how to aim the ball, and when he accidentally bumped Ava’s ass with his hip when she bent her knees and released the ball, it had me clenching my fists so tightly that I must have cut off the circulation from my hands to the rest of my body.

  “You like her, don’t you?” Dia’s words broke through the cloud of inexplicable jealousy and possessiveness that I was feeling towards Ava.

  “What?” I flexed my head to the right, rubbing my neck with my hand, trying to tamp down my riot of emotions. We were sitting on the sidelines, a plastic chair between us, waiting for our turns.

  Her green eyes flickered. “I know you, Milo.” She slanted her eyes towards Ava and Emmett who were huddled too closely, looking at the scoreboard. “You like her.”

  I remained quiet. Talking to my ex-girlfriend about another girl will never be on my Top 100 Things To Do before I’m six feet below the ground.

  “She likes you too.” Her green eyes were morose, desolation staining her face.

  “Why are you saying this to me?” I thought she wanted me back. She sure sounded like it. It wouldn’t ever happen, but if she was telling me this then she was up to something. I’d been a willing member of her tricks for years, and I’m actually now thanking my lucky stars for finding out how unfaithful she could be.

  “Because I’m sorry and because you deserve better.”

  She fixed her blouse and waved at Emmett and Ava, signaling that it was now her turn.

  I took a deep breath and tracked Ava with my eyes. She was now jumping up and down because she and Emmett were on top of the scoreboard. She wiggled her hips a bit, danced a little jig, and rocked her head from side to side. From the short distance, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled in excitement, and her pearly white teeth showed – my heart might have wobbled a beat when she turned, winked, and shyly smiled at me.

  Yeah, I’m starting to see another side of her I’ve never paid attention to before.

  “A turkey is three strikes in a row,” Emmett explained, his elbows hitting the table after acting like he was still releasing a bowling ball; Ava and Dia were either his captive audience or pretending to be engrossed in what he was saying.

  I will strike you three times in a row with my fists and maybe that will stop you from being a cackling turkey.

  You’d think he was the grandson of Earl Anthony by the way he talked about bowling. He couldn’t stop yapping about the strikes, spares, and splits that he had done which largely attributed to his and Ava’s win.

  Shortly after three games, the ladies started complaining that they were hungry. I thought they were probably making excuses because they were bored as hell with Emmett. He was really the son of a senator. He could outtalk anyone and lull them to sleep. I could already envision him in Congress being impeached for his unnecessary chatter. But then again, politics was all about endless yammering so he’d fit right in.

  I suggested dinner at Antolini’s Pizza – one of the best pizza places in Vegas.

  “Wow,” Dia stated with as much enthusiasm as a sleepy drunk. She twirled the straw in her glass of iced tea before checking out her fingernails.

  “Excuse me,” Ava said, pulling her cellphone from her purse. “I have to take this call.” She must have had in on vibrate since no one heard it ring. She stood up, her right hand on her phone, and walked away.

  “That was urgent,” Emmett observed, his eyes following Ava’s figure as she walked to the small, tucked in corner before the bar area.

  “Yeah, it must’ve,” I agreed. She didn’t even wait for any of us to say anything, she just left. Maybe she has an emergency?

  The male server dressed in yellow and white stripes and matching pants approached our table. He looked like a referee. All of the servers were dressed like him. They also had matching whistles to complete their outfits. It was cool and weird at the same time.

  “Are you all sharing a pizza tonight?” he asked, standing close to the chair that Ava had just vacated. We were in the center table of this packed restaurant. The delicious smells of their one-of-a-kind pizzas were making my stomach rumble. I only had a protein drink before driving to Strike Zone.

  “I have no problem with sharing,” Emmett answered beside me. He and I were sitting together. I was facing Ava and Dia sat facing Emmett. “Up to you guys.”

  “I’m cool with that,” Dia nonchalantly declared. She was now holding her phone in her hand, scrolling through the screen. She seldom ate, so I was sure she’d have no problem with sharing. Even in college she hardly ate anything. She often talked about her being overweight as a child, so she exercised obsessively and watched her diet like a hawk. When we were together I had reassured her that she was fine the way she was, but I couldn’t do anything to dissuade her logic.

  “What would you like to order?” He had his pen and paper out, ready to take our order when Ava slowly sank into her chair. Ava looked up and smiled at the server, and I saw the guy seeing stars for a minute, his eyes blanking out.

  Emmett cleared his throat, interrupting the server’s temporary awestruck moment.

  When Ava smiled she could make a man lose his train of thought, making him uncaring as to whether he was coming, going, or walking through mud. She’s always had that quality. Even when I was irritated at her, due to reasons that I could now attribute to my repressed horniness, all she had to do was smile and I didn’t care if she threw a football made of concrete at me.

  “Sorry.” The server shook his head in apology. “What would you like to order?”

  “Supreme – if that’s okay with everyone?” Emmett questioned, his eyes on his phone too. I guessed everyone had their phones out now. What a great way to end the evening.

  Dia nodded.

  “Cool,” I said, staring at Ava’s creamy white neck, slowly letting my gaze drift down to her cleavage. Fuck, I need to stop this shit or I’d be huffing like a fucking puppy before we got the pizza.

  Ava’s phone vibrated in her hand that she had rested on the wooden table, and addressed the server, “Supreme’s fine. Can you please take out the olives?” Thumbing through the keys, she started texting rapidly, the server saying, “Yes, no problem.”

  I hated olives.

  “Milo doesn’t like olives.”

  Dia’s head swiveled in Ava’s direction. “How do you know Milo doesn’t like olives?”

  Ava was still on her phone, answering texts, looking like she was attending to an important matter or else she’d have put her phone away. Without looking at Dia, she replied, “He’s always hated olives. He removes them from pizzas, salads, and pasta.”

  Finally putting her phone down, she raised her face up, wondering what the sudden silence in our table was for.

  “Even I don’t know Milo hates olives,” Dia muttered, her eyes flicking back and forth between Ava and I. “And I’m his ex-girlfriend.”

  “Okay, okay, Milo hates olives. Can we move on?” Emmett commented, brushing the subject off, tapping his fingers on the table. “I think that’s it for our order.”

  The server nodded his head, and before he turned away Emmett added, “No olives.”

  A bubble of laughter started with Dia, followed by the rest of us. I joined them and even managed to indulge Emmett in a high five, but inside I was fucking rejoicing.

  Ava knew I hated olives.

  It was a simple, plain ole’ fact about me.

  Two nights ago she said I was her dream.

  Tonight she knew I hated olives.

  All my life she’s been there, standing by my sister.

  Good times, hard times, extra difficult times.

  It never occurred to me, not even once, that she was there for me too.

  It was confusing – the way I’m feeling towards her. It’s like she knew me, knows a lot about me. And I had no clue.