“He’s got the speed you lack. After he schools you, he’s going to give you some pointers.”
“Don’t be so sure that’s happening.”
“I like your confidence, but he’s next level. You aren’t quite there yet.”
I glance over to where he sits while getting his fists taped up, as an image of Harper and horse dick pops up, blurring my vision crimson. “Let’s do this.”
“Fuck, I look like Quasimodo,” I say, eyeing myself in the mirror in the bathroom while making my way to Tony.
He throws his head back with a laugh. “That’s what you get for squaring off with a professional.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I wince as he presses on my nose, my words coming out muddled. “I need a painkiller.”
“Yeah, it was,” Tony says, pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen and tossing two in my hand, “you came to New York pretty, but you got jacked.”
My phone buzzes on the bench beside me as Tony tapes up the cut above my eye. “No stitches needed, the nose will go down overnight, and the tooth will reset itself, just don’t touch it. Your eye, though,” he whistles through his teeth, “well tomorrow, you’ll have a face only a mother could love.”
“You didn’t tell me he’s an ex-champ.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Am I ready for this?” I ask honestly.
“Don’t doubt yourself now, asshole. He came at you with everything he knew because you didn’t know of him. That’s insulting. Know your opponent. I told you to start watching other fighters.”
“I played football for fifteen years, I know football.”
“And you’ve been in this ring for years, no more excuses. I know you have a shit ton on your shoulders, but we need to get in the head game. I’m serious, man. We, not just me, have to anticipate strengths and weaknesses. We’ll attend more fights this year.”
“Yeah, because we have the bread,” I roll my good eye.
“We’ll deal with it. You need some sleep. That’s fatigue talking.”
My phone rattles again, and I pick it up to see it’s Mom checking in. I text her back and see a missed text from Harper.
Harper: Why did you run off like that and leave me there? That was a dick move.
“Shit, and it’s just that damned easy for her to make you smile,” Tony says, bagging his supplies. He lingers, and I can tell he wants to say something but thinks better of it. “Ice and heat. And sleep.”
“Got it.”
“See you the day after.”
“Wait, you’re giving me some time off?”
“Get your miles and weights in, but yeah, you’re ready. Have a good Christmas. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
“What about you?”
Tony grins. “I’m covered.”
“Like that, huh?”
“Yeah, like that. You forget this is home for me and I’ve got a house call to make. Besides, one of us needs to get laid.”
I give him the finger and glance down at my phone.
Lance: How would you know? It’s been a while since you’ve seen my dick move.
Harper: Har, har, still Shakespeare, I see. And that’s not what I asked. Why did you bolt?
Lance: I told you I had a match. And I got my ass kicked. I don’t look pretty.
Harper: That’s karma. What time are you coming in the morning?
Lance: In the morning.
Harper: You are such a pain in the ass.
Lance: Admit you missed me.
Harper: Rolling eyes emoji.
Harper
“Holy shit!”
“I texted you it wasn’t pretty.”
“You look like a pug dog.”
“Thanks, and you look beautiful.” Heart soaring from his compliment, I tug him into my kitchen to inspect his eye. Much like yesterday, he looks gorgeous, aside from the side of his face that looks mangled. It’s a little grotesque. There’s a cut above his eye, and his nose is a bit swollen. I order him up on the counter, and he hoists himself up easily, his biceps flexing under another form-fitting sweater. I pull one of my ice packs from the fridge and press it against his bruised skin. “Does it hurt?” I lift the pack and press on the area, testing to see if there’s fluid behind it.
“Yes, because you’re fucking with it.”
I jerk my hand away. “Sorry. What does the other guy look like?”
“Hot, he’s about six-one, two-thirty, mocha skin. It was a nice date. How was yours?”
“We didn’t make it to dinner.” Casey knew after laying eyes on Lance that he was the one I’d been waiting for. He’d said as much after I hesitated to accept his dinner offer before he bowed out.
“Shame. Are you upset about it?”
“No, he knows I’m not in the right place for commitment.”
I pause because I can feel his body tense with my statement.
“And anyway, you took care of the rest with your lewd shit. Thanks for that. I had to spend five minutes explaining why I Snapchatted your ass to my father.”
“Sorry,” he smirks. “It slipped.”
“Sure, it did. I can’t believe you told him we did the horizontal hustle.”
He tosses his head back and laughs. “You dork. Who says that?”
“Nana and I don’t like saying…”
He quirks a thick brow. “Saying…?”
“You know,” I say softly.
He leans in. “Nope, no idea.”
“Sex.”
Lance shakes his head slowly. “That’s not what you were going to say.”
We’re close to eye level, his breath hot on my lips, his eyes tracking my every movement. “I remember it flowing quite nicely through those lips, many times.”
“Fucking,” I own it. “But I don’t like to be that vulgar when I’m not in the heat of the moment or pissed off.”
“I’m hurt, Priss, I thought we made love.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“’Sides, I thought I was a gentleman about the whole situation.”
“You almost passed for one. And what’s up with that? Who are you, and what did you do with Caveman Prescott?” I can’t figure him out. His eyes and lips, even his language all scream intimacy, and yet he hasn’t gone out of his way to touch me or claim me in any way, even for the moment, even if his visit is brief. Maybe his intention isn’t at all to win me back. Maybe his point of visiting is just that. I swallow, tracing the light bruise on his jaw.
“Be proud of me, Priss,” he says through thick lips. His eyes are drawing me closer as I inch my fingers around his face. Nipples drawn tight, I’m far too eager to give in one more inch and draw on his lips. The buzz between us is there, it’s heavy in my limbs, my aching center, becoming harder to ignore. I never asked if he had anyone waiting for him back home. And the question is getting harder to pose.
“Proud of you for?”
“I’m a growing man,” he says gruffly. “Speaking of which, I’m starving.”
“O-okay,” I stutter out reluctantly, pulling my hands away. “I’ll, uh, get my purse. We’re going to my nana’s first if that’s okay? I just need to show my face and spend a little time with her since my Christmas plans changed last minute.”