He wasn’t scheduled to fight tonight. What the hell kinda strings did he have to pull to get in on this match?
I narrow my eyes, clenching my fists and wondering what dirty plays he’s got up his sleeve this time. A glint of silver drags my gaze down to his hands. He’s wearing his knuckles, spikes and all. We might not be on his turf anymore, but it’s the same crowd. He’s been fighting longer than me, making a name for himself and gaining people in his corner. They don’t give a shit how he wins.
Just that he does.
Luckily for me, that also means I make bank if I win tonight’s match. And this time, I’m not going down.
When his next swing comes, I’m ready for it.
Pressing a hand to my tender side, I drag my feet forward, ignoring the burn that shoots through me with each step. Thank God it’s dark out. I may have won the match, but that fucker went straight for my face—the right side of my jaw, to be exact. It’s the only visible part of me he got, but my knuckles are torn up, and my limp is obvious as hell. If Tim or any of the others catch sight of me, it’s gonna be a long-ass weekend.
And Blue ... I look behind me as I fit my key into the lock. Her light’s on, window open as usual. I wanna go to her so fucking bad. But there’s no way I can let her see me like this.
Opening the door, I slip into the darkness of my house.
Blue
It’s quiet when my eyes flutter open. Dark too. I stare at the ceiling for a minute. I didn’t hear from Joshua at all yesterday, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. A nagging feeling in my gut tells me something’s wrong.
Chewing on my lip, I slip out of bed and check my phone. The screen lights up: 1:16 a.m. I make my way downstairs and out the back.
I check on my plants first, smiling when I see how well they’re doing. They sprouted last week, so they’re still babies, but soon, they’ll start to resemble actual lavender. Even now, I can feel their soothing effect. I lean closer, inhaling deeply. Maybe I’ll take some to Miss Riley when I visit in the morning. I bet she’d like them.
Satisfied with the idea, I stand and make my way to Joshua’s door. My heart works double-time when I see the kitchen light is on, creating a glow through the thin curtain.
He’s home. And he’s up.
I gather my messy hair and pull it all over one shoulder, trying to tame the strands enough to keep them out of my face, then lift to my tiptoes in anticipation as I rap on the door.
Not a minute later, the door swings open, but Joshua doesn’t check who it is before turning to grab his phone from the side table. A muscle in his jaw twitches while he lowers the volume of whatever he was listening to. Some kind of podcast. I catch a few words about adding healthy fats to your diet, and my lips curve.
“Trying to get in shape?” I tease.
His head snaps up. “Blue?” His brows crash together as he takes me in, looking me up and down. His dark hair’s ruffled, five o’clock shadow I’ve never seen before, dressed in a white undershirt and grey sweats that hang low on his hips. “What are you doing up so la—”
“Oh my god.” My gaze travels along his face, and a gasp leaves my lips. “What happened to you?” I raise my fingers toward his jaw, where a nasty purple mark’s still forming, but he jerks out of reach.
“I, uh ... shit.” He rubs his neck and looks away. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“What happened?” I ask again, ignoring him.
After checking over my shoulder, I step inside and close the door behind me. I don’t know what happened to his face, but I’m guessing my dad will question him if he sees it.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, shutting off his phone before turning around and walking—no,limping—toward the couch. He sits down, grabbing a stack of papers and a textbook from beside him, then nods at the now-empty spot. “Since you’re here ... you up for a little extra credit homework?”
I wrinkle my nose, and a quiet chuckle rumbles through his chest.
“Didn’t think so.” His lips hook up a hint as he sets the materials on the floor.
That pulls a smile from me, but the seed of worry has already been planted. I can’t stop staring at the fresh bruise on his face. It might not seem like much to him, but my worst injuries growing up were from clumsiness in the woods. I’ve never seen anyone come home with as many marks and bruises as he tends to.
“Joshua ...”
I move closer, lowering myself beside him. But when I open my mouth again, all that comes out is a squeal as he hauls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him, strong hands gripping my bare thighs and warming my insides.
He groans, and I can’t tell if it’s from pain or our new position. Maybe it’s both.
My stomach clenches as I stare at the way we’re joined at the hips. The way my legs look wrapped around his big, powerful body. The way his hard stomach moves subtly under his thin shirt with each breath. I’ve never straddled a guy before, and I didn’t know it could feel so intimate. Having my first time be with Joshua Hunt is doing all kinds of things to my breathing.
