She then stares at me with those big, hazel eyes of hers...there's so much agony swirling in them it makes my own heart constrict.
"I don't understand why you punish yourself, though, Alyssa. Haven't you already been through enough?"
"Don't you get it? If I didn't put myself in that position it would have never happened. I have no one to blame my pain on but myself. It's not like I enjoy having sex with all the guys that I do. Trust me, I don't. But, I do it to remind myself of everything that I caused."
Tears threaten to spill down her face, but she lifts her chin instead. "Besides, after enough people call you a worthless slut...you can't help but start to believe it."
"I think what you're doing is wrong," I whisper.
"I thought you weren't going to judge me."
"About your past. I just hate the thought of you continuing to punish yourself for something that you've clearly already suffered the consequences from...and then some. It's no way to go through life."
She takes a sip of her drink. "Noted, now can we change the subject, please."
"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
She gives me a smug smile. "Let's talk about you."
"I thought we made a deal that you wouldn't talk about your dad and I wouldn't talk about Lilly?"
She hikes a shoulder up and takes another bite of her bagel. "Yeah. And that deal is still in full effect. However, I know for a fact that there's got to be more to you than a dead sister."
I narrow my eyes at her. "Sorry," she whispers.
"What do you want to know?" I grit through my teeth.
She appears lost in thought for a second before she answers. "Well, do you have a girlfriend? Or are you just like every other macho fighter and some super male-whore?"
I can't help but laugh. "Wow, look who's judging now."
She purses her lips at me and for a single moment she looks so carefree, it's beautiful. "Hey, the world does nothing but judge me all the time. You have a point, though. I'll try and refrain from making and using judgmental stereotypes in the future."
I give her a smirk. "For your information, I'm not a male-whore."
"So you're in a committed relationship?" She chews on her thumbnail again. "I mean, I didn't see any signs of a female living in your apartment. Is it long distance? What's her name? Will she be mad that I spent the night?"
I roll my eyes. Yeah, news reporter. I can see it clearly now.
"I don't have a girlfriend."
She leans forward. "Oh. So, what about sex?"
Nope...not going there. I can't even imagine what she would think of me if she knew how I got my rocks off.
I remain silent while she continues probing. "You have seen yourself, right? There's no way you're still a virgin."
So she does find me attractive after all. I polish off the rest of my plate and can't help but grin. "I'm not a virgin. Trisha Summer's took care of that when I was 15."
"So, what do you do about sex then?" she whisper-yells.
Since she stopped eating her food and I'm looking for a diversion from this horrible conversation. I reach over her plate and plop one of her grapes in my mouth. "I have it." I pause. "On occasion. But that's as much as you're getting out of me on the subject."
Her nostrils begin flaring, her gaze intense. "Jackson," she says. "I've just admitted the most honest, vulnerable, and embarrassing thing about myself to you. Hell, you can even watch it if you're really curious."
I hold up my hand. "I wouldn't. You have my word."
And I mean it, I have absolutely no desire to watch a video that ruined her life. Something that only added to the emotional scars she's already endured. Something that forced her to put her walls up high, in order to protect herself from the world. So high, she's ensured that no one will be able to get through them.
Why do I suddenly find myself wanting to be the one who makes them come tumbling down?
The intensity in her eyes softens. "That's not the point. The point is, that if we're supposed to be friends...I expect the same amount of truthfulness from you that you expect from me. Now, tell me something heartbreakingly honest about yourself before I reconsider this whole entire friendship for good."
I'm a killer. I murdered my best friend. I don't regret it and I never will.
Instead, what comes out of my mouth is something that not even Tyrone knows about. "About once every 3 months I go to a bdsm club and have sex."
Jesus Christ...I'm a fucking idiot for admitting that to her.
She stares at me wide-eyed. "Like cat-o-nine's and dog collars?"
"No. To be honest—I'm not even into any of the hardcore stuff. I just like having all the control during sex.”
Since it's the only aspect of my life that I can still control.
“I'm not a 'Dom' or anything like that. However, for this particular club membership, which is both really exclusive and expensive. They're good about keeping your identity hidden and you get to wear a mask if you want to...which I do."
She crinkles her forehead. "I have a question."
"Shoot."
"Why go through all that? Why not just fuck Lou-Lou or some other girl who offer themselves to you?"
I decide to be honest with her about my other reason for using the club. "Shit like that gets messy. First off, I don't do relationships. Secondly, women in particular; have a really hard time separating feelings from sex. If I hooked up with some girl like Lou-Lou or another ring girl...well, over time they would start to get attached. Shit, poor Ricardo's having a hell of a time keeping her in line as it is. I also know from watching Tyrone go through the gauntlet with various girls over the years...that it never ends well. The girl always gets hurt...and I don't want to be responsible for doing that if I can help it. This way, I just go in. No names or faces are exchanged. We have our moment...and it's done."
I expect her to yell at me. To tell me I'm a pig and a horrible human being. Instead, she nods her head in understanding. "Why every 3 months?"
That's an easy question to answer at least.
"If you don't show up at the club, once every 3 months your membership gets canceled. And once every 3 months is just enough to scratch the itch so to speak. After, I go back to focusing on training and fighting full-time."
"That makes sense, I guess. How long has it been since you've last gone there?"
I look up at the ceiling, hating how this conversation has shifted focus to me. "A little over a month."
She regards me with another nod. “I don't do relationships either.”
I feel a twinge of uneasiness with her statement and I have no idea why.
“So, how did you get involved with an underground fight club anyway?” she asks. “Granted, I didn't see much, but from what I did manage to see you're really good. Why not go legit?”
Oh, fuck. I have no idea how to answer this without lying to her.
“Just sort of fell into it,” I mumble. “I love MMA fighting, I've studied the craft since I was a kid.” I swallow hard purposely dodging her question the best that I can. “Besides, it pays the bills.”