by Piper Rayne
“Why?”
He looks up at me. “I’m getting old and my body won’t be able to do it forever. The gym is my plan B.”
“You’re not old.”
“I am in boxing. Not to mention I started late, after college, so I’ll probably be hanging up my gloves soon.”
I place my hands on his cheeks, and my lips turn pouty. “Are you sad?”
He smiles. “Yes and no. I knew it was going to end one day, but the gym will fill the void.”
“What about your family?” I change the course of our conversation to what I hope is a happier subject.
His lips dip into a frown. “I’m not really close with them.” Lucas hoists me in his arms. “Let’s go watch another movie.” He carries me into the bedroom like I weigh no more than a feather.
“You choose.” I hurry and get under the covers, excited by the prospect of more snuggle time with him.
His fingers run across my DVDs until a Cheshire-like grin crosses his lips and he selects one. “This one.” He holds up Grease.
“Grease?” I ask. He opens up the case, and takes over setting up the movie as though he’s in his own home.
“I always love a story where the good girl falls in love with the bad boy.” He grins over his shoulder and my perma-smile indents further into my face.
The light streams into my bedroom and my hand travels down his hard ridged body. Peace flows through my veins that he’s here, in my bed.
My head rubs along his chest and I peek a look at his stubbled jaw as I tip my head up. I’m surprised to find him looking down at me.
“Good morning,” he says, no morning grogginess in his voice.
“Morning.” My own voice is a little hoarse, probably from screaming his name over and over again last night.
I pick up my head and rest my chin on his chest. “How long have you been up?”
He continues to assess me. “A while.”
I squirm to get up, but he pushes me back down. “You should have woken me.”
“No, I was enjoying you drooling on my chest.”
I glance down to where I just was and sure enough, there’s a puddle of my saliva. My face heats and I wonder if my face resembles the tomatoes my parents’ housekeeper uses for that spaghetti sauce I love so much.
“I think I’ll just die right now, thanks.” I slide under the covers and hide.
He massages my back over the comforter. “Hey, I might as well get used to it.”
I peek my head out from the covers at his admission that we’ll be doing this again.
“And I guess I need to invest in earplugs.”
He cocks his head, taking him a second to figure out my reference. “I don’t snore,” he argues and I widen my eyes. “I do?” he questions as though he’s never heard that before. He slides down, taking the edge of the comforter and flipping it over our heads, tenting us inside. “I guess you will be getting used to that, then.” He takes me in his strong arms and my leg wraps around his.
“Promise?” I ask.
He winks. “Promise.”
Just like that, another piece of my heart belongs to him.
23
A week later and Lucas has spent most of those nights at my condo. The adventure date was canceled on Saturday because of overbooking so sadly I still haven’t whitewater-rafted. Next weekend we’re ziplining and it’s Lucas’ last event to host and my last event to attend per the package the girls purchased. Perfect timing if you ask me.
Lennon, Whitney and Cole are waiting for me at the table with Derek, Sammie and Todd when I finally arrive at the boxing event. This is the first time I’ll see Lucas box as his girlfriend and to be honest, I’m more nauseous this time than the first time around. Regardless, no matter how much anxiety I have, no Everclear will pass these lips.
Lennon bounces back and forth on her feet, pretending she’s punching me. “You ready to see your man?” she asks me and I roll my eyes, hugging Whitney and Cole hello.
“Where is he?” Whitney asks, peering around the tent.
“He texted me when I got here and said he’ll be out in a second. He’s in the building behind the tents.”
“That’s where the guys stay,” Sammie chimes in and I smile to him and his brothers, raising my hand in the air.
“Hi, guys.” I wave and they each wave, and then sip their drinks.
“I have to get a drink.” Lennon heads to the bar and I’m about to take a seat so I can catch up with Whitney when two arms wrap around my waist.
“How’s my girl?” he asks, his lips finding the curve of my neck. As always, goosebumps follow his lips’ path.
“She’s tired.” I swivel around, my arms locking behind his neck. “Someone’s been keeping her up late at night.”
“Fucker. Tell me who it is and I’ll beat his ass.” He kisses my lips a little longer than necessary or appropriate given our audience, but isn’t that the best part of having a boyfriend? You can kiss him whenever you want and you just don’t care what other people have to say about it.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
He presses on my hips and brings me flush against him. For the first time I don’t feel his bulging length at my core. I draw back, glancing down at his track pants and t-shirt.
“Cup. I have a cup on, baby,” he says with amusement in his eyes. “Which is growing very uncomfortable the longer I stand here.” He adjusts himself and I laugh, unhooking my arms.
“Sorry.”
“Never be sorry for turning me on.” He glances to the bar. “Drink?”
“Sure. But only a beer tonight.”
“Did I hear you say beer?” Whitney asks, interrupting our conversation.
“I’m rubbing off on her. Last night she shared a Stella Artois with me and now she’s a beer drinker,” Lucas jokes and Whitney laughs.
“Let’s give her a Miller and see if that still stands,” Whitney adds and the joke annoys me. I try not to take it to heart, but I’m not some stuck-up bitch who only drinks champagne.
“You guys want anything?” Lucas asks the table.
“We’ll follow you up there,” Cole says and signals for Whitney to start walking.
The four us get in a line a few people away from Lennon, who is talking Shawn’s ear off. Probably trying to work herself a cut of his profits by promising she’ll get more people to place bets with him. If he’s smart he’ll take her up on that offer.
“Are you nervous?” I ask Lucas and he chuckles.
“No.” He shakes his head. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”
I tilt my head and he laughs.
“I’m your girlfriend,” I whine. Aren’t we supposed to share everything?
His head dips down and he kisses my nose. “Yes, you are.”
“You can tell me anything.”
He kisses my temple. “Not anything that makes me sound like a pussy.”
“You’re crazy.” I lay my head on his chest and he wraps his arm around my waist. I bask in his attention. Lately an eight-hour work day seems too long to go without him.
“Spend the night at my place tonight?” he asks and I peer up at him.
“I’d love to.”
Lucas hasn’t asked me back to his place since I ran out of the diner. I love that he doesn’t want to go a night without me.
“Maybe we can have that cinnamon roll in the morning?” he asks.
“I’ll buy you one to start your binge week.”
He smiles and the flutter in my chest ignites like it always does.
“Sounds like a great Sunday morning.” His hand tightens on my hip and I suddenly wish this fight was over and we were back at his place.
“Look, Cole, they’re like we used to be,” Whitney jokes from behind us and I peek over Lucas’s shoulder to look at her.
“It was only weeks ago your tongue was down his throat as you dry-humped him in that chair over there.” I point to said chair and she giggles, eyeing Cole in remembrance.
/> “Touché.”
“Whit’s obsessing about how the other night we only fucked once and then fell asleep.” Cole fills me in with more detail than I need on their sex life. He leans in closer to Lucas and me, lowering his voice an octave. “Warning, that’s normal sex, so the dark circles under your eyes and sore pussy aren’t permanent.”
“I’m not sure about that. Every time I roll over at night I can’t help but suck on her tits. Don’t see that stopping any time soon.” Lucas’ crude comment spurs Cole’s laughter and causes Whitney to shove her finger in her mouth like she wants to throw up.
“One day you’ll be spooning and wonder why your dick isn’t hard,” Cole adds, thinking everyone’s still joking around until he looks over to Whitney. It’s clear he’s playing with her but you’d never guess it from her pursed lips.
She shoves him in the shoulder and he holds his hands up in the air. “Kidding. I’m kidding, babe.” Then his mouth moves to her ear and I watch her face transform from bubblegum-pink to strawberry-pink to puckered and red from whatever he’s whispering to her.
Lucas places his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. “Not us.”
I look up at him. “Definitely not us.”
It’s the third round and my eyes search out a trashcan because the blood dripping down Lucas’ face on to the mat is making my stomach roll. Brock Hayes is back in the ring as his opponent, but it’s a very different fight than last time. Especially since Brock’s fist just slammed into my boyfriend’s temple.
“Kick his ass, Cummings!” Lennon screams next to me.
As for me, I’m like a mute, in awe about how different this scene feels when you care about the person in the ring. He’s not the hot guy in red shorts anymore. He’s not Raging Bull to me, he’s Lucas Cummings, my boyfriend.
Brock hits Lucas and he stumbles back, using the ropes to hold his weight up. His face is pale and his eyes void as though he’s two seconds away from passing out.
“Shouldn’t they call the fight?” I say, more to myself than anything since the cheering and hollering drowns out my voice.
Lennon moves up to the fence around the ring and screams, “You pussy, get up!”
I think I’ll loan her my cheerleading uniform from high school next time. Whitney wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to her, probably noticing that I’m chewing on my nails and ruining my manicure. Never a good sign.
“I can barely watch,” I say and Whitney rubs up and down on my arm.
“He’ll be fine. He’s been doing this forever.” She tries to give me a pep talk, but it’s easy for her to say when it’s not Cole getting pummeled up there.
Cole leans forward to add in his opinion. “Don’t worry, Tahl. He’s beaten him before.” Again, why don’t we throw him in the ring and see where they weigh in on this topic?
Lucas stands up from the ropes, but he’s wobbling back toward Brock. If this wasn’t a boxing match, people would assume he’d drunk a bottle of Everclear.
“Isn’t there a towel to be thrown in?” I yell over the crowd’s cheering.
“Hate to break it to you, but no way would Lucas throw in the white towel,” Cole says.
I point to Cole. “Yes, the white towel. Where is it? I’ll throw it in. Actually, I’ll choke Brock Hayes with it.” I step forward with eyes lasered in on Brock, but Whitney grabs the back of my shirt, rearing me back.
“Now what would the other boys think if Lucas needed his girlfriend to protect him?” Whitney’s arm wraps around my shoulders again, her fingers gripping my shoulder too tight for comfort.
“I can’t handle this.” I hide my face into her neck and she pulls me in tighter. If only she’d cover my ears because all I hear are groans and grunts until there’s no question that a body fell to the mat.
“Oh, my God,” Whitney says and, having to see for myself, I pry my head from her silk blouse, peeking through the webbing of my fingers.
There lies Lucas on the mat and the referee is counting. Lucas manages to rise up on his knees, but all his movement stalls. I rush to the edge of the fence, squeezing through bodies until I’m next to Lennon.
“Get up, Cummings. You have him. Don’t let him embarrass you like this,” Lennon screams and I grip her arm, alerting her I’m here. She glances at me and then back to Lucas. “Look, your girl is here and you don’t want her to see her wimp of a boyfriend lie down and die, do you? Man up, pussy.”
Lucas glances over to me, his face swollen red and dripping with blood. His eyes are laced with despair and hopelessness.
“Lucas,” I sigh because seeing a guy who has always been so strong and confident appear beaten down only nauseates my stomach to the point that I might need that trashcan sooner than I thought.
Our eyes lock. The ref’s voice, counting down, fades to background noise as Lucas crawls to his feet, flinching and grimacing with each move. My heart leaps and soars out of my chest, through the ropes, right into Lucas’ capable hands. In my imagination, of course. I haven’t completely lost my mind. Yet.
A cocky smirk crosses his lips, as though he felt the same pull toward me that I did in that brief moment. He’s back on his feet, still slightly wobbling. The ref places his finger in front of his face and Lucas’ eyes leave mine to follow the ref’s finger in the right direction. The crowd roars back to life when the ref steps out of the way and Lucas and Brock are face to face with one another again.
“Go, Cummings!” Lennon shouts, her fist bumping in the air. “Hit him in the balls.”
“You got this, Lucas. Kick his ass,” I scream next to her and Lennon peers over, unsure if it’s me, and then swings her arm around my shoulders with a proud mother look splashed across her face. We both jump up and down yelling, cheering Lucas on.
Five minutes later, Brock is rolling on the mat, unable to get to his feet, and the ref has Lucas’ hand in the air, announcing him as the winner. Lennon and I are in hysterics, not holding our excitement down, even with Brock’s slutty fan girls glaring at us.
Lucas walks to the edge of the ropes, his beautiful face dripping with blood, but a smile on his face as though he’s holding the winning lottery ticket.
“Meet me on the south side of the tent in fifteen minutes,” he says and then allows his manager to whisk him away from the mat.
The crowd swallows him up immediately and I quickly lose track of his now sweaty and disheveled blond hair. Lennon and I sit back down at the table with Whitney and Cole. The brothers have a pitcher of beer and Sammie has taken the responsibility to pour everyone a cup.
“He pulled it off, huh?” Sammie says, handing a cup to Cole.
Cole passes it down to us girls. “That was a close one.”
“Yeah, too close if you ask us,” Todd chimes in and there’s some snark in his voice that ignites a protective side of me. I want to crawl over the table and choke him by his tie.
Cole looks past Whitney to me. “Lucas is the house fighter, so they obviously want him to win.” He attempts to explain how it all works to me. Although it’s new to me, it’s information I probably should have asked Lucas about.
Cole continues to drone on and on about the odds, Brock and a bunch of other statistics. The one thing that I do figure out is, if boxing is Lucas’ dream and I’m with him, I’ll have to understand the standings, the odds and the rankings eventually. But I want to hear it from Lucas’ mouth. See the passion in his eyes when he explains to me how high his dreams go.
Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s already been fifteen minutes, so I stand and leave the table in search of him. I slide through the groups of people continuing to drink and have fun. Since I was plastered the last time I came here, I don’t know how long people stick around after the final fight. Secretly, I hope they all leave soon so I can have the winner to myself.
The closer I get to Lucas, the more my heart flutters. The more butterflies lift in my stomach and the more my skin pinks. How has he won me over so fast? There�
��s no denying it though, I feel something with him that I’ve never felt before. There’s a chance I’d be more crushed if he broke up with me than I was when I called off the wedding with Chase.
I round the corner to the south side of the tent, only to be blinded by a set of headlights. I squint from the brightness and shield my eyes. A woman stands in front of Lucas in the doorway of the building.
He’s already in jeans and a t-shirt and his duffle bag rests at his feet. All I can make out of her is her long, curly hair, rain jacket and high heels. She steps closer to him and her arms wrap around his shoulders before she buries her head into the crook of his neck.
That’s my spot.
I suck in a breath when I realize that his own arms are just as tight around her waist. I stop in my tracks as I watch their exchange. My entire body feels like it’s sinking, as though the concrete parking lot is quicksand.
Somehow I manage a few steps closer. The breeze catches the trees on the street and a flicker of light from the streetlights illuminates their faces. She kisses his cheek and a small smile tugs on his lips. She makes her way back to the passenger side of the car, glances back longingly to him one more time, and then gets in and shuts the door. Before I have a chance to hide, the car passes by me.
Lucas’ eyes follow the car’s path, catching me standing there gawking. His lips dip down, the smile he had for her disappearing. Picking up his duffle bag, he walks toward me, his shoulders sagging in a way I haven’t seen before, and the butterflies in my stomach wilt and die in the pit of my stomach.
24
“Hey,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my lips. Is he really trying to pretend I didn’t see what just happened?
“Hi.”
He draws back from the embrace, and the permanent smile that’s usually splashed across his lips has vanished.
I run my hand over his bruised and cut face. Will I ever be okay with seeing him like this? Maybe I can’t see the person I love get the shit beat out of them every Saturday night. Then again, maybe I don’t have to worry about it.