Beautiful and Broken

by Sara Hubbard

  "Your date?"

  "I wouldn't call it a date. A mistake is more like it."

  "Oh." He lowers himself onto the couch and leans back, stretching his arm over the back so that his fingers almost touch my neck.

  "But I don't want to talk about that. Hey, you're dodging. Why didn't you call me back?"

  “I was busy, and…Amy told me the other day you’re dating Jason again so I didn’t want to get in the way. I assumed he wouldn't be cool with sharing you.”

  "Amy told you what?"

  "Well, I overhead her telling someone on the phone when I stopped by to see Charlie the other day.”

  "I'm not sure what you overheard but I'm not back with Jason. In fact I'm starting to wonder if he's even the same person I fell in love with. Like maybe he changed a long time ago and I was too blind to see it."

  "I see. Well, this is awkward."

  "What? Because of the girl? Yeah, that's cool. No messiness, right. No commitment. I'm just here because I had a shitty night and I wanted to see a friend's face." I try to smile, but inside I just feel sad.

  He opens his mouth to speak but snaps it shut. He looks completely perplexed. I'm sure he expected me to bitch about the girl, but he doesn't owe me an explanation and I’m smart enough to realize it.

  "I'm sorry I didn't call you back. I really was busy."

  "You going to bed now?" I ask him, with a raised eyebrow.

  "I'm wide awake. What did you have in mind?"

  I find my smile and force the memory of the girl out of mind. He’s my friend and I’m glad for it. In fact, maybe it’s better if we stayed that way. Just for now.

  "Well, don't get any ideas. No benefits for you tonight. That's just gross. I mean, she looks like a prostitute."

  "What?" He smirks. "She's a nurse."

  "In porno films, maybe."

  He laughs out loud and gently pushes on my shoulder.

  "Her boobs were fake."

  "I promise you they weren't. Betty would be offended."

  "Betty? She looked like a Betty. Like that old cartoon. God, what was her name? Betty Boob?"

  He shoves my shoulder again and I laugh.

  "Come on,” he says as he stands up. He reaches out his hand to me and I hesitate. “I want to take you somewhere."

  I hold up my beer. "Can this come?"

  ***

  "What are you up to, Sawyer Davis?" I smirk at him in the dim light. His dashboard is glowing red and blue and the lights of the streets and businesses around us pass by in a blur.

  "You'll see."

  He pulls over at the back of the gym he uses. I raise my eyebrows in question as he gets out and rounds the car to open the door for me.

  "Thanks." I stare at the back of the building. Not much to look at. A dumpster to the left, some broken up boxes tied up by the back door. There are a few windows but they're much higher up, high enough that someone couldn't sneak in. "What now?"

  He nods to the back door and takes out two small black, metal cylindrical tools from his jacket pocket. He slides them in the lock and jiggles them around.

  "Sawyer? You better not be doing what I think you're doing."

  "Come on. Trust me."

  Trust him? I know nothing about him. And now he's picking a lock like a thief. What the hell else don't I know?

  He doubles over laughing. "Just curious if you'd do it." He straightens and pulls out a key. "I know the owner. He lets me come here after hours to blow off steam."

  "Is that why we're here? To blow off steam?"

  "You're wound tighter than a pair of granny hose."

  "I am not!"

  He nods, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Sad but true." He opens the door and waves for me to walk through.

  Inside, we're in complete darkness except for faint moonlight steaming in through the few windows. I reach out for him. I've never been a fan of the dark.

  He takes my hand and gently tugs me over so I can feel the outline of his chest at my back. His lips touch my neck and that's all it takes to stir my need for him. My underwear is wet and the hairs on my neck are standing on end. I have to squeeze my legs together to stop from falling apart. His breath on my neck, the scent of his soap and aftershave…oh.

  The lights click on and he steps away from me. I try not to pout, and remind myself he doesn't need me to satisfy him tonight. He had Betty. Betty. She totally did look like a prostitute.

  "Come on. Step into the ring." He almost jogs toward the blue and white ring, but takes a slight detour to the locker room instead.

  "Sawyer?"

  Moments later he returns with gloves. "What? You want me to get in the ring with you? Are you insane?"

  He laughs and pulls out a square foam thingy from behind his back. "I'm not hitting you—you're hitting me."

  "I don't know…"

  "What have you got to lose? Your dignity? Self-respect? I won't hold it against you if you punch like a girl."

  "Newsflash. I am a girl."

  He drops the equipment and takes my hands in his, rubbing his calloused hands up and down my palms and the back on my hands. His thumbs gently knead my flesh and I close my eyes, relishing it. He’s amazing with his hands. In more ways than one…

  As my eyes open he pulls tape from his pocket and starts to bind my hands.

  I quirk an eyebrow.

  "It's for under the gloves, little miss dirty mind."

  I chuckle.

  When he's done, he examines them and goes over them again with his hands before sliding on some old blue leather gloves. They’re worn in places and the strings near the wrists are starting to fray.

  "I've never thrown a punch before," I confess, staring at my feet.

  "Good thing for you I'm a great teacher.”

  "Alright. Some basic punches. Jab, uppercut and hook." He laughs and shakes my heads. "Give yourself a shake. Every muscle in your body is clenching right now."

  I do as he says, shaking my arms and body and I flail in a circle until I've done a 360. "Stop laughing at me!"

  "I'm not, I swear. You're just so fucking cute."

  "I'll knock your teeth out," I say, trying to be mean.

  "I don't doubt it." He straightens his lips. Serious mode is back. He teaches me how to stand and that bouncing thing he does. "Stance is important," he tells me. "It’ll make the difference between taking a punch and standing, or falling down." He demonstrates, but all I see his the shape of his ass in his track pants and the massive bulge in said pants.

  "Got it."

  "Now, punch, straight out. It's quick; out and back, twisting just so, right at the waist." He demonstrates and then I do as he says.

  He goes through the other punches. With the upper cut, I almost get him in the jaw. I apologize for it over and over again. He still has a bit yellowing left over on his chin from when I distracted him a week or so ago. Man, that feels like a lifetime ago. Tonight, I feel so comfortable—the whole world has faded away and it's just me and him. I'm happy…to be with him. And no one else. When did that happen?

  "All right. Now I want you to hit me as hard as you can," he says.

  "What?"

  He picks up the padding and covers his forearms. "Come on. Think about your frustrations. People that piss you off. Imagine this is their face," he slaps the padding, "and strike. Hard."

  I take a deep breath. This whole thing feels silly to me and I drop my shoulders, letting out a long belly laugh.

  "Come on. You'll like it. I promise."

  "Okay." I hit once, but I barely put any effort into it.

  "Fuck. Is that it? Come on. Dig down, grab your balls and pull them up."

  I tip my head to the side. "My balls? Really."

  He raises his eyebrows at me.

  Okay. Picture someone who pisses me off. I can think of several. Tonight, Jason stands out. I groan as I punch full force.

  "Not bad. Again."

  I take another breath. I punch, again and again.

  "Mix
it up. Give me a jab, cross, uppercut."

  I breathe through pursed lips. My whole body is actually sweating and I've barely done any work. Part of me is nervous, nervous to let go. Nervous to let him see me come undone. But I do it…again and again.

  I imagine my mother and father, and how they put their needs over my own. My sister, who betrayed me on my wedding day, the day that was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Then I imagine my boss, how he treats me like a child and constantly condescends me. I go through my list and when I'm done, I have nothing left. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes.

  I heave in and out, bending over and putting my boxing gloved hands on my knees. Sawyer's hand strokes my back. "Good. Feel better?"

  I catch my breath. "Yeah." I straighten. "I do."

  He catches a strand of hair that's fallen from my ponytails and tucks it behind my ear. Gently, I punch his chest and it's like hitting rock. I am so turned on right now that I want to do him in the middle of the ring. He seems to have the same idea, because he hooks his foot around my leg and takes my feet out from under me. He catches me just as I scream and, smiling, he lowers me to the floor. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes make me want to drag a million kisses across his unshaven face.

  He covers me with his body, hovering with his weight resting on his arms.

  "How did you know I needed this?"

  He shrugs. "I didn't. But it makes me feel better, so why not see if it can help you too?"

  "Thanks, Sawyer."

  "The way you look at me..."

  "What do you mean?"

  "With you, it's like I have a clean slate. Like you see me for who I am. None of the shit from my past matters."

  "It doesn't." I shake my head and touch his face. "I like you now. It doesn't matter who you were. But…if we’re going to be close…I still need to know what happened. Whenever you’re ready to talk."

  He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I will.” His lips are so close they brush against my skin as he speaks, making butterflies dance in my stomach. But I can’t shake the image of the girl from earlier. I turn my head away and sigh.

  "What is it?"

  "I just…feel kind of dirty."

  He raises his eyebrows.

  "You know, after you were just with…Betty Boop?"

  He laughs, then closes his eyes. "We didn't fuck."

  "I love how crude you are."

  "Can't think of another word for it. She means nothing to me. I would probably have forgotten her name by now if you didn't bring it up."

  I slap his shoulder. "That's awful, Sawyer. She has feelings."

  "She knew what she was coming over for."

  I try to roll out from under him but he pins me. "Stop. Stop. Look. I knew you were out with Jason, and it fucking killed me. I invited her over to get my mind off of you and I…" He looks up at the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm admitting this. I couldn't get it up."

  "Ah…I don't know what to say."

  "Don't look at me like that. I was thinking of you and then I felt guilty, which is ridiculous because we agreed this isn't a relationship.”

  "Right. You don't do relationships," I say, looking away at the ropes to my right.

  "And you're on the rebound."

  "Right," I say, quietly, my mind spinning. What was he trying to say to me? "So that's still what you want, right?"

  "Is it what you want?" he asks me.

  "I hate when you do that." I sigh and look straight into his eyes. Somehow I see fear there, like he needs for me to spell it out. Or maybe I'm mistaken, but I've never been one to keep things in. I wear it all on my sleeve. It's what got me into trouble with Jason and yet here I am, about to bare all to Sawyer too. I'm a glutton for punishment. "It killed me to see that girl come from your apartment."

  "I'd fucking kick any guy's ass that touched you or even tried to hit on you."

  "So…"

  "So…"

  "What are we saying here? We're going to try a relationship?" I reach up and wrap my hands around his neck, my left index finger caressing him.

  "I don't think we need a label. Maybe if we just agree not to touch anyone else. At all. Like not even hug."

  I laugh. "I can handle that."

  "So what do we do now? I mean, since you can't get it up."

  "You feel that." He shifts himself so I can feel his erection on the side of my thigh. Then, he reaches out and strokes between my legs, right by my clit, and applies pressure, his thumb kneading me into a frenzy.

  "I think you're cured," I say in a hazy voice, before groaning. "Oh. Sawyer."

  He rolls us over and I rip my shirt over my head. The floor of the ring is scratchy under my back but I don't care. The burning and tingling sensation between my thighs is far greater. He trails kisses from my neck to my chest, stopping at my nipples. He takes his precious time, sucking and teasing until they’re as hard as pebbles. I arch my back and groan, my hands fisting his hair.

  He continues down, swirling his tongue at my naval. He pulls my underwear and my skirt down and tosses them in the corner; they land on the post. He smiles, proud of himself. I can't help but giggle. He sure is adorable when he's feeling playful.

  But then his eyes change. They become glazed and hooded and he sets his mouth between my thighs. His tongue is magic, circling and sucking at my clit while two of his fingers dive inside me. My mound is pulsing, aching, tingling, like it’s being turned inside out. I cry out. "Please, Sawyer. I want you."

  "I didn't bring a condom," he explains between circles. His lips are so close; they tickle at me as he speaks. He’s driving me crazy.

  I fake a cry. Do I trust him? If I weren’t so desperate for him, agonizing with each swipe of his tongue, I would have said no. He has too much history in the bedroom to have sex without a condom.

  "Have you…been tested?" I say, in almost a whisper.

  "I've never had sex without a condom but I still get tested. I was negative a few months ago."

  "Never without a condom?"

  He stops, and his arms slide down on either side of my torso while his chin rests on my belly. "We don't have to do this. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Besides, all I want right now is taste you.” His voice turns husky, and I sigh as I arch my back, letting my head fall to the mat of the ring.

  I run my hands through his hair and lightly grip it at the roots as his tongue licks between my lips. My mound is pulsing, throbbing, and as his fingers dive in and out of me, I feel wetter and wetter. I’m climbing up the steep slope to ecstasy and soon I’ll be diving off the cliff.

  His fingers push in and out, first slow then fast. His tongue pushes through my lips, up and down and side to side. He nips at me, just hard enough to make me gasp in pleasure. I am swollen and burning, and every muscle from my belly to my knees is tingling, radiating all the way to my core.

  “I’m coming,” I cry. “I’m coming.”

  He doesn’t let up. He works more furiously to take me to the edge until I’m coming apart at the seams, my muscles tensing and relaxing and I fall apart, my body going limp on the mat. He chuckles as he crawls up, his naked skin against mine. His erection is firm against my stomach, and I lower my hand between us to return the favor.

  Sixteen

  I WALK THROUGH the door and after closing it, I lean back. The smile on my face is wide and stupid, but I can't help it. Amy is in the living room with the remote in her hand.

  "What. The. Fuck? Did you get back with Jason?"

  "Jason?" I shake my head and almost skip over to the couch. "No. Jason and I are done. I know that now."

  "Good fucking riddance. You were all Stepford Wife with him."

  "What? No I wasn't."

  She makes a face. "Yes. You were. He bosses you around. You always did what he told you."

  "I really don't think that's true."

  She brushes me off. "Anyway, is that why you're smiling like an idiot? Because you've over Jason?"
>
  I shake my head slowly, my smile returning.

  "Don't tell me…Sawyer?"

  I nod.

  She sighs loudly. "I hope you know what you're doing."

  "I do. He's different from you'd expect. And before tonight we just…having sex. Now he wants to be exclusive."

  "Exclusive? Sawyer?"

  "Yep."

  "And that goes both ways?"

  She's starting to frustrate me. "Yes. He likes me. Really likes me."

  "Well I hope it works out for you. I really do. If he hurts you, I'll rip his balls off."

  I wrap my arms around her and she pats my back.

  "Does this mean you don't need moral support for Thanksgiving anymore?" she asks.

  "Oh, crap. Yeah. Should I ask him?"

  Amy's smile is so big it literally consumes her face. "She'll be pushing hard for you and Jason next Saturday. Best way I can think of to squash it is to show up with a date."

  "She'll lose her mind."

  "Promise you'll take a picture?" Amy beams at me.

  "It’s really not cool how much my mother and my best friend dislike each other."

  Amy laughs. "She started it."

  I roll my eyes. "Really mature, Amy. Really mature."

  ***

  I have the best week at work. This is because if I'm not having lunch with Amy or Megan, or both, I'm with Sawyer, looking at houses. Or should I say christening the rooms of houses he really has no intention of buying.

  Finally, by Friday he tells me he's decided on one. I have to laugh when he tells me it's the first house we looked at.

  I punch him in the shoulder. "Look at all this time we've wasted! Did you know you wanted that house when we looked at it?"

  He chuckles and reaches under the tablecloth of the table we're sitting at, squeezing my thigh. We’re in a sandwich place, where they serve the best paninis and wraps. Sawyer is trying to gain twelve pounds to make his weight class for his upcoming fight, so he opted for triple meat today.

  "I was curious about you and for whatever reason, I wanted to spend some time with you."

  "Because you like me?"

  He rolls his eyes. Unlike me, Sawyer doesn't put his heart on his sleeve. He doesn't have to. The little things tell me, like how he calls me right before bed to say goodnight. How he leans into me when we're sitting somewhere and how even when the prettiest girl in the room is paying attention to him—in fact, throwing herself at him—his eyes are on my face. Or maybe my boobs. I have, I quote, "the best tits ever.”