“Yep,” I declared boldly. “Are you?”
“Not really,” she confessed, then stood up, “but it’s important to be strong for when I have to fight off my enemies.” That statement backfired when she was forced to grab my arm to stop from collapsing to the floor from her thigh muscles spasming. Her little hands kept traveling to her inner thighs in an attempt to ease the pain, but because she had an eager audience, she kept pulling away.
“Those thighs of yours are a little weak. I doubt you’ll be fighting too much with them,” I sniggered as she composed herself, unclenching her grip on my arm.
“Don’t intend to fight my enemies with my thighs,” she hissed, and I caught a smile on her pretty face before it vanished again, replaced by tight lips and a hate-filled gaze.
“Oh, damn, that’s a shame. Since I am one of your enemies, I would have liked you to strangle me with those suckers. I can't imagine a better way to spend my final moments than having my face between your thighs,” I said calmly, watching her face carefully to gauge her reaction. She turned away, hiding her face, which told me all I needed to know. “Next, the leg press.”
“What?” she protested. “Aren’t we done yet?”
“No,” I smirked, leading her to the machine and setting it to a lightweight to start; I’ll increase it if it’s too easy.
She climbed on board as I told her what to do, then after the third press, she said casually, “So, what are you hiding from the police?”
I looked at her blankly, pretending I didn’t understand her. Lev said he warned her to stay quiet, but forgot to mention that he kissed her. He wouldn’t usually tell me who he kissed or fucked, as that’s his business, but Adina was different. We’re meant to watch over her without touching her, which has become quite challenging for Lev and me.
Honestly, I was similar to Bart Simpson; if someone tells me not to touch the hot heater, I’m gonna touch it just for the experience. Same with Stabby. If Sickle warned us to keep our hands to ourselves so we don’t become emotionally involved with the daughter of the man who put our father in prison, I’m gonna touch her just for the experience.
“Ah, no,” I replied, knowing where she was going with this. “I’m six foot four with fists the size of cooked chickens, Stabby. I hide from no one.”
She scoffed as a single dribble trickled down her forehead, and I wanted to lick it off, “I don’t need your dating profile, thanks. And fists the size of chickens? A bit of an exaggeration, ol’ Poultry Hands Warwick.” She snorted at her own joke, which I didn’t mind. Taking the piss out of me just to hear that pretty laugh was worth it. “Anyway, I was referring to the train-”
“How did your date go with the York fucker?” I interrupted, curious to see if she was disappointed that James York didn’t show.
“Poultry Hands is very nosy,” she spat. “The fact that you don’t like him makes me like James even more.”
Mixed feelings twisted in my stomach as she pressed her feet against the steel plate, grunting. I knew she was joking about James York to upset me, but it still bothered me.
“Did he show up?” I asked, giving her a knowing look, and she flipped me the middle finger.
“You know he didn’t, don’t you?” she hissed, then lowered her voice when a guy hovered nearby, throwing back a bottle of electrolytes like his life depended on it. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing,” I answered innocently as I lost count of how many leg presses she’d done. Three or four? “Why would I go nearhim? Wait. Did you get stood up by the Yorkie?”
“Huh,” she scoffed at me again. “I wanted him not to show up.”
“Really? So he didn’t show up? Dumbass. He doesn’t know a good catch when he sees one,” I admitted, then caught an interesting look on her face. The hate-filled glare that I had been drilling holes into my skull was warming and softening to something more human. Could she be coming around to me?
“I’m not a fish,” he sighed, then stopped her reps. “That’s ten.”
“Alright, let’s do some upper body,” I suggested, then guided her over to the dumbbell stand. “Do you want to meet up later for dinner?”
“No,” she said far too quickly.
“Good. I’ll come around to Morgana at 6 PM. I’ve got a present for you,” I told her.
“Wait. I said no,” she snarled, and I cracked up laughing.
“I heard you, but we’re still having dinner tonight,” I firmly said, grabbing a couple of lightweight dumbbells and handing them to her.
“No, we’re not,” she murmured. “I won’t be home.”
“Yes, you will,” I gritted my teeth, towering over her to remind her who was in charge. “If you’re not in your room,” I spoke slowly, “I will climb up to your window, smash it, then destroy all of your possessions.”
“Fuck you,” she hissed like a spitting cobra, then threatened to drop a dumbbell on my foot, so I swiftly stepped away, struggling to keep a straight face. “You’re a liar. You’ve got a key to my room, so you don’t even need to smash my window, asshole.”
I feigned innocence, furrowing my brow and patting my chest. “Me? If only, Stabby, if only I had a key to your room, I’d sneak in every night to show you a good time.”
