Undefeated - A New Adult Romance Novel

by Hildreth, Scott

  He rubbed the hood onto the sides of his face, concealing most of his features. It was unzipped, and he wore a ribbed tank top underneath. From what I could see, he was built like an athlete. I admired his eyes, stared at his body, and tried not to speak.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you or make you nervous. Do you remember me?”

  My head bobbed up and down like one of those little dogs in the back window of some old person’s car. Nervously, I rubbed the wrinkles from my skirt. Perspiration formed on my palms like cold can of beer on a hot Austin day.

  Kace, you look like an idiot, say something.

  “Eyes, grey. Grey. Like your eyes. Your eyes,” I took a breath, raised my eyebrows and pointed at my mouth as I pursed my lips.

  I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  “I’m nervous too, if it helps,” he said as he leaned onto the upper portion of my reception station.

  I raised my eyebrows and kept my mouth closed.

  “I am. You can kind of tell when I’m nervous or I don’t want to talk about something. I pull the hood over my head. My name is Shane. Shane Dekkar,” he said as he pulled the hood from his face.

  Holy book fucking boyfriend. This guy is perfect.

  I grabbed a sticky note and scribbled on it with my pen.

  When I get nervous or really excited the words don’t come out in order. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry.

  I handed him the note.

  He looked down, read it, and smiled as he looked back up. He turned the note over face down, reached down onto my lower desk, and grabbed a pen from my jar of pens. He scribbled on the back side of the note and handed it to me.

  When I get nervous I hide under my hood. What’s your name?

  I set the note aside and grabbed a new one. I wrote on it and handed it back to him.

  My name is spelled Kace. It’s pronounced Casey, but spelled weird. My friends call me Kace without the “Y” pronounced. I go by either. I like your eyes.

  He read the note, turned it over, and chuckled. He looked up at the ceiling as if he were thinking, and then wrote on the back side of the note. As he handed it to me, he stared into my eyes. I reached for the note and smiled as he released it to me.

  I have so much to say I would like one of the big sheets from your legal pad on your left. For now, I will say this.

  I like your face. You’re beautiful. And, if you ever get confused and can’t talk, tap your hand once for yes, and twice for no.

  I may have peed a little bit more when I read the note. This was so exciting.

  I ripped a sheet from the legal pad and handed it to him. The anticipation of what he might write on the sheet was killing me. Hopefully he would write a lot of things on the sheet. I pushed the two yellow sticky notes aside and set my water bottle back upright. I looked up at him as he thought and wrote slowly. He folded the sheet in half and handed it to me.

  I unfolded it and was pleased to see that he had filled almost the entire page with hand written questions. His penmanship was perfect.

  Kace,

  I’m Shane Dekkar. We met at the drug store parking lot. I walked by here a month or so ago and noticed you for a second time. Your hair was really shiny. I think everything happens for a reason. I feel that I really need to find out who you are. I found it increasingly difficult to know you were here and not come see you, so I came in today to see my insurance agent and say hello to you. I have some questions. Here they are.

  Was that guy at the drugstore your boyfriend?

  Is he violent toward you, or were you really just in a little argument?

  Are you single?

  Available?

  Do you like turkey sandwiches?

  Have you eaten lunch?

  Would you like to go to lunch?

  Are you a runner?

  I read what he wrote and read it again. Your hair was really shiny. Could this guy be any cuter than this?

  I looked up at him and started to write a response beside the questions he had written. I thought carefully as I wrote.

  Was that guy at the drugstore your boyfriend? Yes, but I want to find a way out.

  I read the next question and struggled with what I should write. I considered writing several things, but opted for a one word answer.

  Is he violent toward you, or were you really just in a little argument? Argument.

  Are you single? See above.

  Available? I think maybe.

  Do you like turkey sandwiches? Haha. Love them.

  Have you eaten lunch? No.

  Would you like to go to lunch? I think Yes.

  Are you a runner? Yes, I am.

  I looked at my watch. It was 10:45 already. I scribbled my own note onto the bottom of the sheet.

  This was fun.

  I get off for lunch at 11:30 and can be gone for an hour. There’s a diner across the street that has good turkey sandwiches. You can meet me there. Do you always wear a hoodie? It’s hot outside. I’m not as nervous now, but still kind of.

  You make my palms sweaty.

  I read what I wrote, smiled, and handed it back to him.

  He read the note, folded it and stuck it in his back pocket. He reached back and pulled the hood over his head and smiled. As he placed his forearms onto the upper countertop, he leaned forward slowly, getting closer to my face.

  His eyes commanded my attention.

  “I’ll see you at eleven thirty. I’m glad I make your hands sweaty. I always wear a hoodie. Well, almost always. You don’t need to respond if you’re still nervous,” he whispered.

  Almost unknowingly, I found myself leaning closer to him as he spoke. His breath smelled sweet.

  “Turkey,” I blurted.

  Are you fucking kidding me? Turkey? That’s all you can come up with?

  I rolled my eyes and pointed to my mouth.

  “Turkey,” his sweet breath whispered.

  He leaned a little closer. I leaned toward him a little more.

  “Get your little sticky note pad and get a new note, Kace. Write this on it. I’m coming, Kace. I’m coming for your heart,”

  As he turned and walked away, I stood up and turned to face him.

  And I melted a little.

  Good lord.

  Wow.

  I could just watch him walk forever.

  SHANE. I’ve spent most of my adult life wanting to be in a meaningful relationship. The relationships we have in high school never really amount to anything meaningful, and I don’t look at my high school relationships as being anything but relationship curiosity. To think as a high school student that we have any idea of what we want, need, or really desire in a life-long mate is ridiculous at best.

  I had a relationship as an adult for several years with Tina. She and I were inseparable. She spent all of her spare time with me, and I did the same with her. She even spent considerable time at the gym watching me train. I suspected we would get married and spend our lives together. Being around her made me feel as if my life was in order.

  One day, she came home and told me - with much excitement - that she was accepted into the Navy. I was beyond shocked. After a lengthy discussion, I found out that she had been trying to pass the entrance examinations for a few years. She never bothered to tell me her desire to join the military - and after the relationship ended, it seemed cheap and worthless.

  Since that relationship ended, I have had no desire to actively pursue any female companions. I always figured I’d spend the rest of my life focused on boxing and being single. I have had no desire to be in any form of a relationship.

  Meeting Kace was refreshing and strange at the same time. I have never met a woman that immediately possessed my thoughts the way that she did. Even after the meeting for the first time in the parking lot, I found myself thinking about her often. I wondered if she was happy, safe, and most of all - single. Seeing her for the second time when I went to pay my insurance agent’s office made me wonder about fate.

&nbs
p; My grandfather told me that God puts people in our lives for a reason. It’s our responsibility to recognize them for what he intends them to be to us. Some people are bad, and we need to recognize them as such. The bad people or events in life allow us to have an accurate means of measuring the good – a basis of comparison – the difference between good and evil. Other people are good, and may have something to offer us – to make our lives, minds, or basic understanding richer. If something or someone is presented to us once, we will often dismiss it as being nothing more than happenstance. If that person or situation is presented twice, it is God slapping us in the face and telling us to pay attention. It is fate.

  I believe in fate.

  Looking through the window toward the office building, I took a drink of my water. As she began to cross the street, I felt my heart race. I stood up and watched her cross the street. Smiling, she waited for a break in traffic. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, heels, and a tangerine colored sleeveless top. Clearly and without any effort whatsoever, she defined beauty as she gracefully ran across the street in her high heels.

  As she hopped over the curb and onto the sidewalk, she rubbed her hands on her skirt. Her hair appeared to be naturally blonde, and bounced as she walked down the sidewalk toward the door. As the bell that hung over the entrance chimed, I sat back into my seat.

  I leaned forward in the booth and turned her direction. As she made eye contact, I waved. She smiled and slowly walked my direction. This woman was simply adorable.

  As she approached the booth, I stood from my seat and inched between the table and seat to the aisle. I stood in the aisle, looked down at my raggedy boots, and back up at her.

  Standing about a foot in front of me, she rubbed her hands on her skirt and stared up into my eyes, smiling. Slowly, she raised her right hand between us, and waved. Not certain if she could speak intelligibly or not, I pointed to the other side of the booth.

  She stepped away from me and walked to the other side of the booth.

  “I got you a bottle of water, sit down. Relax,” I said softly.

  She placed her purse in the seat and slid into the booth beside it. She twisted the lid off of the bottle of water and took a long drink, raising her eyebrows and focusing on me as she did. As she placed the bottle and the lid onto the table, she took a deep breath.

  “Hopefully,” she smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder

  “My mouth and brain will stay,” she paused.

  “Connected,” she smiled as she exhaled.

  I pulled my hands from my hoodie pockets and lightly clapped. She rested her elbows on the table and patted her hands together in a mimicking fashion until I stopped. When I stopped clapping she placed her hands in her lap and smiled.

  I pressed my forearms onto the edge of the table and leaned her direction, “You’re adorable.”

  Without speaking, her mouth formed the words, thank you.

  “Just in case you get mixed up with your words - one tap always means yes, two means no, okay?” I said.

  “Okay?” she laughed.

  “Would you two like to order?” the waitress asked.

  I held my index finger in the air and focused on Kace, “Give us a few minutes, please.”

  “I’ll check back in a few,” the waitress smiled.

  “Okay, I’ll start at the beginning,” I took a deep breath, exhaled, and shoved my hands deep into my pockets of the hoodie.

  “I’m going to guess, based on the fact that there was an empty yogurt container in the trash at your desk, and there was a plastic spoon in the container, that you normally eat at your office. You probably save all of the money that you’re supposed to eat out with and use it for yourself. I’m also going to guess that what I thought was an iPad that your douchebag boyfriend smashed in the parking lot was a Kindle. And the Kindle in your purse was one that you bought to replace the one that he smashed,” I took another breath.

  “And you probably read as much as you can - to dream. To dream of what could be. You live through the characters in the books that you read, and it allows you to have some form of solace, some form of peace in your otherwise worthless existence of a life with douchebag,” I paused and looked at Kace.

  Her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, she stared at me - speechless.

  “He’s controlling, isn’t he?’

  She nodded her head like it was on a spring.

  I shook my head from side to side and pulled my hood over my head. As I pressed my hood against my face, I clenched my jaw.

  “Are you…” she rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the side.

  “Mad…” she paused and took a short shallow breath.

  “At me?” she said softly.

  This woman was the definition of beauty. Clearly. She also possessed every quality that made her as adorable in regard to personality that one could ever wish for. Even through her little speech problem, she maintained a smile and a positive attitude. I wanted to crush the asshole that was abusing her.

  I shook my head slowly and accidentally growled. Just a little.

  “No, not at all. I’m sorry. It makes me angry when I find out that someone is abusing a woman. Well, women, kids, and old people - people that are incapable of providing much resistance. I couldn’t even tell you how many women I have talked to that are just like you. The eating at work, saving money, hiding things for fear of getting in trouble,” I paused and rolled my eyes.

  “You’d be surprised at how many women are in relationships just like yours. It makes me sick,” I clenched my jaw in anger.

  A slight frown washed over her face. Obviously she had become embarrassed.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I said as I pulled my hands from my hoodie pockets.

  She shook her head from side-to-side.

  Loudly, she tapped the table twice.

  “You want to talk about this?” I asked.

  She tapped the table once.

  “How long have you been with him?’

  “Sixteen,” she responded.

  I shook my head, “Ever been with anyone else?”

  She shook her head slowly and took a drink of her water.

  “You guys ready?” the waitress asked.

  I looked at the waitress and back at Kace. She nodded and smiled.

  “Turkey sandwich on,” I paused and looked at Kace.

  “Wheat,” she said.

  “Two turkey sandwiches on wheat bread – add a salad to each. With vinaigrette on the side please. Thank you,”

  “Dressing on the sandwich?” The waitress asked.

  I looked at Kace.

  “Light mayonnaise, please,” she said softly.

  “Same,” I said.

  “Okay, just a few minutes,” the waitress said.

  “You feeling less nervous?” I asked.

  “It’s weird. Yes, I am. When you ordered the dressing on the side, I think I realized you’re human. I don’t know, I just immediately felt comfortable. It was like my insides sighed. Would you have ordered light mayonnaise if I hadn’t said something?” she asked.

  Wow, she speaks.

  “Yes, I would have,” I responded.

  She sighed softly and smiled.

  “You’re beautiful, Kace. When you’re lying in bed tonight, remember that. You’re beautiful,” I said softly.

  She smiled.

  “You are?” I asked.

  She shrugged.

  “Beautiful,” I said again.

  “You are?” I asked.

  She slowly smiled.

  “Beautiful?” she asked softly.

  “Let’s try this again,” I said.

  “Kace, what are you? Describe yourself to me?”

  “Beautiful,” she responded softly.

  “You certainly are. Don’t forget it, okay?” I said, nodding my head once sharply.

  She nodded and took a deep breath.

  “So, he’s controlling. He’s abusive. He slaps me. He hits me. He
yells at me, chokes me, he tells me I can’t leave the house. Let’s see,” she paused , looked out the window and bobbed her head up and down playfully to the music playing.

  “He monitors my text messages, phone calls, spending, and tells me I’m a dirty slut and a whore,” she turned and looked back in my direction.

  Her eyes were welled with tears, but none fell.

  I gritted my teeth and tried not to show my anger. People like Kace’s husband make me develop an anger that is only fed by changing or fixing the situation. When I box, I often tell myself that my opponent is abusing a woman. It’s a way that allows me to become at peace with fighting someone that hasn’t really done anything to deserve the beating that they receive.

  “Have you cheated on him?” I asked.

  “Oh heck no,” she said.

  “You’re not married?” I asked.

  “No, thank God,” she shook her head and wiped her eyes.

  “Do you believe in fate?” I asked.

  “I suppose so, what do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, I moved here two years ago from Compton, California. I bumped into you at the drug store. Then I saw you again at the office across the street. I can’t get you off of my mind. It’s as if you’re pumping through my veins, like you have infected me. Meeting you once might have been an accident, maybe happenstance. But meeting you twice, it’s fate. I don’t know what the end will bring, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find out,” I reached into my hood and rubbed my hair with my hands.

  “Yeah, Austin is a huge city. I suppose running into me twice would be almost impossible. So, you came here from Compton? Isn’t that like the ghetto?” she asked.

  “My father was an active duty Marine, so I lived with my grandfather. He had lived there for decades and refused to move. But yeah, it’s the ghetto. It kind of made me who I am, I suppose,” I pushed the hood off of my head and rubbed my hair with my fingertips.

  “Here’s your lunch,” the waitress said as she sat the plates down.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said as she stepped back from the booth.

  The waitress looked at me and smiled. She was tall, thin, and probably in her mid-fifties. Her skin was very tan, probably from countless after work hours relaxing in the sun. More than likely she was the single victim of a relationship that was once like Kace’s. Most of the older waitresses in diners were. As I returned the smile she turned and walked away.