by Matson, TC
I glare at her.
“Seems like someone should have listened to me. Told you he’s into you,” she says triumphantly.
“Don’t get your claws caught in your pubic hairs,” I deadpan.
Both her over tweezed brows jump high on her forehead. “What the hell are you holding back for, Paige?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me. Explain to me what’s so damn hard about it?”
“I…” I trail off uncertain I care to divulge this information. I mean, really, I’m starting to not understand it myself. “I don’t want—”
“He’s on!” Jason yells over everyone.
I shrug, thankful I didn’t have to explain something I couldn’t. Everyone’s eyes are glued on the TV. In just a few months, I’ve become Levi’s biggest fan, unbeknownst to him. Oh if he knew, I’m sure that would shoot straight to his ego and blow him up.
Levi and his crew come bounding out of the entrance, the crowd on their feet, including all here. He enters the octagon his normal self—confidence oozing from his pores, no trace of apprehension or worry. His sculpted body is chiseled, and his hard muscles are flexing as he walks to his corner. Holly turns and wags her eyebrows at me. Yes, I know he’s a beautiful creature.
Adam catches Levi’s attention and with an enormous grin, says something to him. Levi nods then rolls his head turning back to his opponent bouncing on the balls of his feet. The camera pans to him and with his fingers, he motions to watch him with a twisted smirk. My breath catches. He knows I’m watching.
The announcers introduce the fighters, the referee explains the rules, and then the bell rings. Anxiety is eating at me, chewing through my bones and crawling through my muscles. I’m on the edge of my seat when they meet in the middle sizing each other up.
Justin, the “Mauler,” makes the first move striking Levi’s cheek, but Levi counters with a jab. Justin feigns charging him and takes him straight to the mat. Through the punches, Levi maneuvers into half guard, blocking them, and somehow he bucks and quickly leaps back to his feet.
He smirks at Justin not looking fazed. Strikes, kicks, clinching and knees, the men go at it taking turns with their backs against the cage. Blain dodges, weaves and ducks from his invisible fighter like he’s standing in the ring with them. I’m holding my breath and from the thundering of my heart, I have officially run a marathon.
Then the bell rings…thank goodness! All the boys here start yelling how they would have done this or how Levi should have done that, but I’m set in stone watching the TV. Harvey’s yelling something as Adam holds a bag of ice to the back of Levi’s neck. My pulse is in my throat, pounding so badly I can feel it in my thumbs.
Then…the bell sounds and it’s round two. Levi looks overconfident stepping to the middle and dropping his hands.
I push to my feet. “What the hell are you doing?” I scream at him through the screen. “Put your damn guard up!”
Justin takes advantage and swings, tagging a serious blow to Levi then right behind it, another. Levi sends a powerful right hook to Justin’s jaw and he stumbles back against the cage. Levi barrels into him firing punches, jamming dangerous knees into him. Pound after pound, Justin tries to keep his guard, but then an evil right hook drops him and the ref jumps between them calling the fight. The arena and this house erupt in a roar.
Everyone jumps to their feet, Blain and Jason both with fists in the air, and me…I’m squealing like a little girl. Jason’s redhead doesn’t move, not looking up from her phone and showing no interest as everyone around her is elated about the win. Manly grunts echo off the walls as the boys praise Levi through the screen, high fiving each other.
I flop into my seat completely spent. I felt like I was there, like I was in the ring with him. My adrenaline is pumping, my palms are sweaty, and I’m out of breath. This shit stresses me out.
The party diminished about an hour ago, and Blain took the remaining stragglers downstairs. I’ve been lying in bed staring at the green grainy lights on my alarm clock—three thirty four in the morning. I have to be at the restaurant at seven—three and a half hours.
I close my eyes and picture my feet at the other end of a hammock holding a drink with a pink umbrella, swaying back and forth while watching the turquoise waves crash onto the pale cream sandy beach. I’m swinging under the palm trees as the soft warm breeze washes over my body. Serenity. Tranquility.
Chirp! My eyes bolt open unsure that I really heard what I think I did. Three forty-one the grainy neon green numbers say but now there’s a new light blinking—a purple one—a text message! I spring up and grab it.
Levi: So you were watching huh?
I smile like a goofball at the bright screen.
Me: Congrats!
Levi: Thanks. Come to my next fight.
I release a breath I swear I’ve held for weeks sinking into my pillows and covering my mouth. I don’t know if I want to cry, laugh, or cuss him.
Me: I can’t.
Levi: I’d like to see you.
Ever read a text and heard the person’s voice as if they were standing beside you? Although impossible, I heard his. It was soft and sweet begging for me. See…I’m imagining things. The screen times out and dims as I stare at it, contemplating what I should say. I want to tell him I need him, scream I can’t stand him, and inform him I’m petrified of him.
Me: Good night Levi. Congrats on your win.
It’s all I’m capable of. I’m scared to tell him that as I tried resisting him, I fell for him. The arrogant, self-centered, asshole somehow consumed me and he’s all I can think of. I know I’m stupid for doing so. He’s made his case—he doesn’t do relationships regardless of what I try convincing myself. I’m no different than anyone else. I have nothing to offer him except me…and my heart. Unfortunately, he isn’t interested.
Chapter 19
I’ve come to a conclusion…it’s time for me to unwrap myself. The last time I spoke to her was through text the night of my fight with Justin Lyndon and since then I’ve forced myself not to break and text her. All these feelings and tugs in my chest are only causing hurt. That’s right—I said hurt. It’s like I’ve stuck my head in a door and allowed Paige to slam it repetitively. For months I’ve chased her. Months I’ve tried. Months I’ve dreamt of her in my arms. It started as being roused by a new piece of ass, changed to the thrill of the chase, altered to a friendship, and modified to the way I feel about her now. It’s the subtle tugs, the faint pricks of emotion slamming my heart into gear. These feelings plus the hurt are making me slam on the brakes.
Every time I reach out, I’m shut down. And, women, let me tell you a man can only take so much. I’m not a fucking mind reader. I see what I see in her eyes and how she reacts to certain things. It’s like her body is telling her to run into my arms, but her mind is the arch enemy convinced I’m just like the rest. I’m trying to prove to her I’m not. I’ve been completely truthful with nothing unexpected. Well, maybe that kiss was, but in my defense, the feelings that rushed out of me were too. We both were just as surprised.
Stepping out of the bathroom from a hot shower, the remnant of last night sits on the side of the bed with the covers wrapped around her. She’s a pretty thing. Her long black hair is draped down her chest with a large set of brown eyes locked on me. She’s got a set of lips that her mom should be proud of and her dad should load a gun for.
She licks her lips and bites her purple fingernails. “You should have woken me. I would have joined you.”
There was a reason I didn’t wake her and I needed to get it off my mind. I cock my head to the side. “I needed to clean up.”
She grins dropping the blanket from her small breasts. Every man has a thing that drives him over the edge, that drives him utterly insane. My thing is tits that bounce as you thrust into a girl or slap together as you’re hitting it from behind. Unfortunately for this girl, she doesn’t have much to work with. Pair that with dead hips, I can be
t money I won’t be doing that again.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I have to hit the gym,” I say and she frowns. “Told you last night not to get your hopes up, honey. Get dressed.”
I’m such a fucking dick. How do I know? She just hissed while slamming her legs into her skirt she was wearing last night with no panties. Here’s a hint—if you’re dressed like a slut, you’re going to be treated like a slut. I’m not sure why you ladies are confused about that. Sluts aren’t people you want to bring home to Mom. If you want respect, you have to earn it. Act like you’re worth someone’s respect and I can bet you’ll have it coming at you in waves. Don’t land in a man’s lap and start eating away at his ear if you want something more. Putting it on him so badly that he wants to change and settle down is like riding a flying dragon onto the red fucking carpet. Quit lying to yourselves, ladies.
Sweat rolls off me as I focus on the heavy bag in front of me. My next fight is important. I win this, I’m onto the semifinals then to where I want—the championship. Harvey has pushed me with submissions, ground play, and Muay Thai—something like kickboxing for you who are unsure. I have to be fluid with my movements, precise with my strikes, and solid with my focus. I do not want to lose sight of my goal.
“Bassow is gonna have his ass handed to him,” Adam hypes me.
I don’t respond staying fixated on the duct tape over the cracked leather bag.
“Semifinals are in the bag, baby. You’ve got this,” he continues.
Again, I don’t respond. It’s pretty messed up that all I can think of is how I want Paige alongside me on the other side of the cage rooting for me. I can’t get her out of my damn mind. Anger fuels me and I roar heaving a kick into the bag, placing my shin directly where I wanted it. I bounce back on the balls of my feet, pissed at myself for continuing to let her get to me. I slam a left jab then hurl a massive right hook narrowly missing Adam.
He jumps back releasing the bag throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
I square my body up trying to catch my breath.
Pacing a short line, I stop, never raising my gaze from the blue padded floor. “Man, she’s in my head.”
“Paige?” he asks confused.
I nod.
“Dude, it’s been months. What the hell?”
“I can’t explain it and I can’t fucking erase it,” I tell him. “Being preoccupied doesn’t fix the issue and I can’t shake the shit.”
Adam doesn’t say anything.
“Even cheetahs quit after so long,” I say over my shoulder moving toward the locker room. I need to go do something soothing, something that relaxes me and puts me at ease. Gym and pussy don’t release the tension, but I know exactly what will.
It’s been two hours of pure relaxation. A place of solitude. It’s just me and the tattoo artist who realized early to shut the hell up and let me be with my thoughts. He’s been working on my left shoulder with different graphics that mean tranquility for me. I told him exactly what I wanted and he drew it up.
Stepping out, the sun pours itself over my body and I pause for a second allowing my eyes to adjust from the dark hole and turning my phone back on. I shut it off when I walked into the place, not allowing anyone to bother me. I needed to clear my mind, get myself back, and right my priorities. I inhale the fresh air ready to start over, ready to get back to me.
Just as Chris, the tattoo artist, finished my shoulder, I decided to ask for something small, but a perfect reminder. It seems Paige has stolen my heartbeat. Every time the fucker beats, I swear it reminds me of her. Yeah, pathetic isn’t it? So, now on my left pectoral is a heartbeat line there to remind me it’s mine and fuck these ridiculous feelings that have the audacity to think Paige owns it. Again, let’s get this starting over party on the ball. Let’s roll!
Chapter 20
I’m insane, no, completely idiotic. Yep, I’ve lost all my stability. It’s been almost a month since I’ve spoken to Levi, and it has driven me straight to the loony bin. I’ve texted him once without a response and it broke my heart. Right then I realized he had to know. My dad always taught me to never die with regrets, and always tell someone what they mean to you before it’s too late. I might be slow, and it may be too late, but my mind is made up. This may make or break me, but no matter the direction this happens to go, I will come out stronger.
The farthest I’ve ever been away from home was when Levi took me to Tennessee. Blain and I have gone to the beach before, but that isn’t very far. And now, here I am staring at my phone like a halfwit in the middle of baggage claim at the airport in Dallas, Texas. Jim had already scheduled me off this weekend and that means my next day of work is Tuesday. If this goes sour, I have four full days to lick my wounds.
I got in touch with Adam two days ago when I figured out that I wanted this to happen. I could tell he was iffy about my plan, but he promised not to tell Levi so it could be a surprise. He also told me not to get my hopes up. Either way, I have to do this.
I texted him when I landed and he gave me directions to the gym they’re at with a warning that Levi’s “not in a good mood.” Hopefully, I can change that and cheer him up. I’m praying he doesn’t bark at me to leave. That will crush me. My thoughts are on a roller coaster—he’s going to be happy to see me, he’s going to be pissed, he’s going to love the surprise, he’s going to freak the fuck out. Oh God, what am I doing?
Dallas is huge compared to my sleepy little town. Its hustle and bustle, tall buildings and crowded streets remind me I am far, very far away from home, and alone. Not to mention, this damn cabby drives like he’s in a NASCAR race zipping through traffic and turns, jolting me each time. Hell, if I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, I would have eaten the windows several different times. Thirty minutes of riding with him should be considered an hour of cardio. Finally, he pulls up to the gym, and I grab my suitcase bolting out of the car and into a wave of heat that slaps me in the face. I’d rather stand in this mortal hell than ride with that dickhead again.
From the outside, the gym doesn’t look impressive—nothing I would think a man who stays in huge hotel suites would use. I take in a deep breath of hot non-country air and start in. The place smells like sweat and musty man. There isn’t a person at a counter waiting to greet me as I walk in, no “please wait to be seen” sign or anything of that nature. You walk straight into the gym. Adam instructed me to stay on the wooden pathway since I’m way too stubborn to take my shoes off. I can’t imagine all the germs, sweat, blood, spit…no, just no.
The place isn’t as busy as I thought it would be. There are a few guys wrestling around and another on the punching bags, but other than that it’s fairly empty. The star is the one in the middle of the padded cage dripping with sweat, listening to the orders being barked at him by Harvey.
I’m concealed behind a large punching bag hanging from the rafters of the ceiling, undetected and watching him run through several combinations of jabs, elbows and kicks. I have forgotten how incredible he looks as his muscles flex, tightening with each throw, moving with his every action. Sweat drips from his hair that isn’t in his normal faux hawk, but instead messy from his hard training day. He has a new tattoo on his left shoulder running slightly down to his bicep. The tribal flames along his ribs dance as he twists and moves around.
There’s a tightness in my chest that grabs my breath and holds it hostage, a heat that scurries throughout my body throbbing exactly where it wants to be touched, and my heart…it’s like it just sighed relief to see him again. He’s gorgeous.
His sparring partner isn’t as big as he is but is padded up ready to take him on. He’s keeping up, ducking and dodging, making Levi run around the ring to get a good punch in, then he’s bounding back striking and kicking helping train Levi to stay on his toes.
Chapter 21
Adam has been on that fucking phone all damn morning and it’s starting to really irritate the hell out of me. He couldn’t put the thing down las
t night, and this morning every few minutes my concentration was broken by that annoying as hell chirp of his text message. I’ve threatened to break it if he didn’t put it on vibrate. Whoever it is has him smiling like a nitwit and not paying a damn bit of attention to me. Technically he isn’t a coach, but he knows me well and will speak up on things he sees. My team is my family. My support.
“Hey, dickwad, put it up!” I yell to Adam whose phone just vibrated against the metal chair. You can only imagine the sound that damn thing made.
“I will, hang on.” He doesn’t even look up and smiles at the display like he’s in high school scoring a date with the quarterback’s girlfriend.
“Adam!” I shout.
He throws up a finger insinuating for me to wait. “Hold on! It’s important.”
I hate waiting. “Important? What bitch could possibly be important to you?” I say leaning against the cage staring at his shit-eating grin, but his eyes are looking past me.
I follow his line of sight. Standing in a pair of jeans and a yellow t-shirt with her brown hair shaped around her face, flashing her sweet smile, and toting a suitcase beside her, is Paige. I’ve worked hard to right my thoughts and now I’m seeing shit. I blink trying to get the mirage of her to disappear, but she doesn’t. I haven’t slept well in days. Maybe I need more water. These can all be possible reasons for me to hallucinate. But then it hits me—the luscious scent of her vanilla perfume.
My body on its own mission to feel her skin, I spring out the door of the cage toward her and wrap my arms around her waist. She is definitely real.
“So could this bitch be more important?” she quips laughing and rocking back on her heels.
I shrug. “Anything coming from Adam’s phone usually isn’t. What are you doing here?”