I watchedher pound the bag: hair pulled back into a ponytail, little beads of sweat rolling down her back between her shoulder blades. I’d wanted her to go easy, today, but she was hitting the bag as if she saw Rick’s face on it. She was hurting inside, burning with the frustration of losing. Asking herself what had gone wrong, beating herself up for every little mistake.
I knew the feeling because I’d been there myself. Every fighter had, the first time they lost. In some ways, it’s a rite of passage. Some people even say it’s better to lose your first than win your first, so you don’t get cocky.
But none of that applied to Sylvie. She wasn’t a professional fighter and didn’t want to become one. She was doing this to save her brother, nothing more. And yesterday’s defeat had thrown everything into jeopardy. Tomorrow, we had to get on with training. But she wasn’t going to be able to get her head in the game until I got her in a better mood.
She needed a break. Something that would make her feel good.
As if in answer, I glanced down at the swells of her breasts under her Lycra top. My cock swelled and thickened.
Notthat.Not yet, at least. She needed something….
The word felt alien in my mind. Somethingromantic.
I’d seen, over the last few weeks, how she never got to do anything girly. All she ever wore were jeans and t-shirts. Her hotel shifts barely left time to go out, so she wasn’t hanging out with her girlfriends, chatting about...I don’t know, guys and... whatdogirls talk about, anyway? Whatever. She wasn’t getting that. She’d been surviving, these last few years with her brother. Not living.
She needed to live for a night.
I knew, deep down, that it was a mistake. I knew the sex had been a mistake, and that the smartest thing I could do was end this thing before we got in any deeper. She still thought I was a hero—what would happen when she realized the truth?
But I couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes, those lips. I was feckin’ addicted to her. And so, however stupid it was, part of me still wanted the fantasy. I still wanted to be with her.
The only problem was, I had no clue what to do. I hadn’t been on a date in years. I didn’tdodates. I fucked and was gone by morning.
So I called Jasmine.
Connor, the other Irishman who trained at the gym, had charmed his way into the bed of some posh cellist on the Upper West Side. I’d thought it wouldn’t last, at first. But, from the few times I’d see them together, they were a cute couple. Anyway, the cellist—Karen—had been to some fancy performing arts school with ballet dancers and actresses and people like that. And one night, on a rare night out for me, I’d run into them all and wound up doing tequila shots. Jasmine had been there. She said she was an actress and I vaguely recognized her from that cop show,Blue & Red.And she would have been hard to miss anyway—hourglass body and long red hair. If she hadn’t already had a boyfriend, I would have tried my luck.
We got talking and kind of split off into our own little corner for almost an hour. Nothing happened or anything—just friendly chat. But by the time I’d walked her to a cab stand and then waited there with her for a cab, we’d gotten to know each other pretty well. And she’d given me her phone number, “Because you’ll need it, someday.”
Now I did.
I told Sylvie to take five, found a quiet corner of the gym and dug through my phone for Jasmine’s number. She’d entered it herself, complete with a selfie of her pulling a goofy face. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey! Who’s this?”
I had her number, but she didn’t have mine. I must have come up as “unidentified caller.” Would she even remember meeting me? “Ahh...well….” I began.
“Connor! Shit, did it all go wrong? Listen, I warned Karen those wereadvancedtips and to practice on a salami first, so don’t blame me if you’ve got teeth marks—”
“Ah, no,” I cut in quickly. “It’s Aedan.”
“Oh.” If there was any embarrassment, it was gone in a second. “The boxer, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Who quit because—”
“Yeah.” Shit, I must have told her everything. In my memory, it had been a nice, friendly conversation but I must have poured my heart out. Jasmine was that sort of person—easy to talk to. And therehadbeen a lot of tequila shots.
She was suddenly all serious. “How’s it going, Aedan?
“I need some female advice.”
“My middle name. What have you done and who did you do it to, you Irish rascal?”
“Nothing! No one!” God, I was actually blushing. She was always like that—flirty and outrageous and yet somehow innocent at the same time. When I’d met her, I’d thought she was the most spellbinding woman I’d ever met. I’d cursed the fact that she was attached. Now I was glad she had been, because—if there was such a thing as fate—it had been saving me for Sylvie. “It’s complicated,” I told Jasmine. “There’s this girl…” I looked across to where Sylvie stood in the ring. She was meant to be on a break, but she’d started hitting the bag again, determined to squeeze every minute she could out of training. “She’s incredible.” I was surprised by how my throat caught. “And she’s had a really tough time of it, and I just want to do something nice for her. Like, romantic nice. Something that’ll make her feel...girly.”I sighed. “Does that make any sort of sense?”
She told me what to do.
