Gordy glowers at me, but that glower never threatened me before, nor will it right now.
“May I cut in?” I ask Micah.
“Sure,” he replies, then glances at the clock on the backwall. “I need to shower up and go work on payroll anyway.”
I nod my thanks, and he jogs off. Thankfully, he understood when I told him that I just didn’t feel a connection between us, and it hasn’t made things awkward at all. In fact, he himself seemed a little relieved. Maybe the kids thing was a bigger dealbreaker than he let on. Oh well, I’m not butthurt. Like I said before, Micah's a good guy, just not the one who makes my heart stutter.
The guy whodoes, however, is currently glaring daggers at me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his tone dripping with disapproval.
“Storm is rolling in, so I’m not taking any chances,” I tell him. “Figured I’d find out why you’ve gone radio silent on me.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grunts, becauseof coursehe doesn’t. I didn’t expect him to open up as soon as I got here anyway, so no skin off my back.
I take the mat and square-up in a fighter’s stance, just like he showed me that first day, tilting my chin at him to do the same. “And if you win, I’ll let you keep your secrets. If I win, however, we’re going to talk.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t work like that, Wee-Waters. This isn’t some relationship where we hash out all our problems. Besides, I’ll pin your ass to the mat in no time,” he snarls.
I just shrug, plastering on an air of indifference, though I amslightlyconcerned that my next threat will set him off… especially since I’ve donesometraining with Micah, but not a ton. “Fine,” I quip. “Then you’ve got nothing to lose. Make the bet and fight me, prick. Give me all you got. Safe phrase is still ‘spank me.’”
His jaw ticks. “Did it ever occur to you that I keep things close to the chest so Idon’thurt other people? God, you’re such an obstinate dickhead…”
“And I’m asking you tohurt me, damnit!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Look at me, Gordy. Really fuckinglookat me. Do I look like a porcelain doll to you? No, I’m not! I’m a six-foot tall, two-hundred-twenty pound man, for fuck’s sake. And if you think your words can break me? Think again!”
Out of sheer frustration, I shove my fists through my hair, nearly tearing it clean out in the process, and start pacing around the mat. “I’ve been called a dumbass. I’ve been told I’m useless and lazy. It’s all been insinuated that I’m nothing but an oblivious pile of shit. I’ve heard it all, man, sonothingyou can tell me is going to shatter me! I justwant to help you, but you won’t let me in at all! I tell you what,thatfucking hurts more than your fists or whatever you think is so horrible that you have to keep it locked up in a vault!” I’m sure I’m garnering looks from gym-goers as I stand here yelling, pouring my heart out to him, but I don’t give a shit.
The only thing that’s mattered for a long time now, longer than I can truly wrap my head around, ishim.
His molars gnash again before he breaks, and he lunges at me. He narrowly misses taking me down to the mat as I hold my ground against him. While locked in a grapple, I attempt kneeing him a couple times. One of his arms gets free, and a few jabs land on my ribs, along with one on my cheek. I somehow slip away and manage to right myself enough to land a low kick, right before charging in again and sinking in a few punches of my own. One of them splits his lip.
He rears back, dodging away from me. There’s a look of astonishment on his face, which has me preening with pride. He expected to have me flat on my ass by now, didn’t he?
He shoots forward again, this time looking to get a double-leg takedown, but I feint away just in time. With a swift sweep of my right leg, he’s down on the mat with a grunt. While he’s still stunned, I maneuver myself into an armbar position, pinning his torso down to the mat with my legs, yanking his outstretched dominant arm towards my chest.
With one more forceful tug, I hear him grit out, “Spank me.” When I release him, he immediately rolls away from me. I sit up, taking stock of him to see what made him submit so easily, but I find nothing.
“What the fuck wasthat?” he growls, after catching his breath.
“What was what?” I reply innocently.
He gestures at me, fixing me with an unimpressed look. “Youknowwhat. Don’t play stupid. You and I both know that’s an act.”
“Fine.” I point towards the locker room. “Go hit the showers. Looks like I won, and we’re going to talk. I don’t need to be nauseated by yourwildebeestlyaroma, while we’re having a serious discussion,” I say, knowing that last statement is complete bullshit. There’s nothing nauseating about his musky scent. Quite the opposite, actually.
It’s intoxicating. I know this, because I stole his fuckin’ hoodie when I left. I only sleep with it every night, trying to inhale the very last of what remains of his essence.
He levels me with a fiery glare with those amber eyes of his. “I shower at home.”
“Okay,” I concede. “I’ll shower up here and meet you there, then,” I add, leaving no room for protest.
He sighs and stalks off towards the locker room.
“Ow, you stupid dink,” I hear Gordy hiss as I enter his apartment. “Don’tpeckme, just take the fuckin’ bait.”
I let my gym bag plop on the floor and toss my keys on the side table, as if I still live here, and head in to find Gordy leaving a trail of bread on the floor, leading out to the balcony. “Come in here and let me look at your damn wing, already. Fuckin’ hell, heating oil costs enough without having to warm the outside.”
“Is something wrong with Gulligan?” I ask, concern knitting my brow.
