by Abby Knox
Dylan pauses on her way to tending my wounded ear, her hand in midair, and tries to make eye contact. “What the hell, Grizz?”
I swallow and force myself to meet her eyes. In them I see her frustration and her compassion. Her eyes narrow at me. I hate it when she does that because it reminds me of one of my high school teachers, a really mean, hot teacher who could see right through me when I made up stories about why my homework wasn’t done. I breathe out heavily, knowing she’s verbally going to pound me into the ground.
“It’s a little bit of extra money and I’ve been saving up for your 30th birthday.”
Dylan places her hands on her ample hips, just like she does when scolding one of her patients for not following medical advice. “Listen to me. I don’t want you mixed up with a bunch of sketchy dudes. No more of that, OK?”
“Dylan, come on.”
She shushes me. “No more talking while I sew your forehead and ear back up. Your face gets too expressive when you argue with me, and I’m not able to work on it.”
I have to laugh because she’s right again. Properly chastised, I school my face and do my best to remain silent while she continues to fix me back up.
Since I first met Dylan, I’ve wished she’d been my best friend since childhood. She’s the person I’d been wanting to talk to my whole life.
Dylan is the best person I’ve ever met. I admire her so much, it hurts me that I didn’t meet her sooner. And lately, I’ve been feeling more and more of that painful emptiness when she’s not around. Between her heavy workload and my MMA training schedule, I’ve been missing her even more.
“I never meant for you to find out this way. I meant for my first fight to be legit. But, I don’t know…. Teddy, my trainer, has been busting my ass but won’t put me in the octagon. This offer came up and it felt like I couldn’t say no.”
“Shush,” she says, but quieter this time, like she’s comforting me while she gets ready to stitch me up, like I don’t need to trouble myself with explanations right now.
She does her best to numb the wounds with what she has on hand, but I’m still a huge baby. The whole process takes forever because I keep flinching and pulling away in pain. We eventually get through it because she threatens to take me to the hospital if I don’t quit my bitching.
When she’s finished patching me up and cleaning up the mess, I keep my eyes trained on my folded hands in my lap where I’m twiddling my meaty thumbs.
“I s’pose this means you don’t wanna be around me now. It’s kind of a tough crowd and I know you’re not a fan of drama and commanding personalities.”
Dylan again puts her hands on her hips and shoots me a look that sears my insides. “No, reverse it. I’m going to watch you like a hawk so you don’t get yourself killed.”
I shrug. “Even the dudes who win in legit matches don’t walk away unscathed.”
She folds her arms across her chest and surveys me with a heavy exhale. “This sounds like a supremely stupid hobby, Grizz. What kind of example is this to set for your students?”
“When it’s played legally, It’s a widely recognized international sport, just like boxing.”
“Except, like, with no gloves and barefoot kicking?”
“Not exactly. Hey, listen. If you’re so skeptical, why don’t you come with me to my gym and see for yourself?”
She stares at me for a few seconds. “Well, I s’pose I should be there when you get your ass kicked again since somebody needs to fix you up correctly. And by ‘somebody’ I mean me—I’m the somebody.”
Her green eyes focus on me, and her beautiful face steals the breath from my lungs. She has no idea the effect she has on me. Not only do I need her to be with me every step of the way as my friend and my nurse, but I want more. I want her with me all the time. I want to do well, and I want to make her smile. Neither of us speaks for a moment while we just stare at each other. The only sound is the gurgling of water draining out of the sink. She’s so close to me I can smell her and feel her breath against my skin. Suddenly I’m uncomfortably aware that I sit before her shirtless, making me feel exposed in more ways than one.
I think about our last two years as friends and everything leading up to now. Just the thought of it makes my heart kick against my sternum and my arms itch to reach out and erase the distance between us.
She came into my dojo a sullen, scared and pissed off person. I spent the whole first class teaching her the basics while tossing in little jokes, trying to make her smile.
At some point she somewhat accidentally kicked me in the nuts. When I doubled over and fell to the floor—perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary—she finally cracked. Her laugh was the most intoxicating thing I’d ever heard. And when she helped me up off the mat, her tiny but strong hands made me feel special, like I’d found something important, something I’d been missing. The way my whole body warmed and my brain tingled when her hands held mine, I should have known then that it was more than just friendship. When I stood up and got a clear view of her smile, I knew I had found a kindred spirit. I was done for, but I couldn’t admit that to myself at the time.
I think a part of me denied all those feelings because I was aware that she was either in a relationship or had recently left one. I buried my attraction to her because I figured, whatever her situation, that wasn’t the time to start a relationship. She made it clear how she felt when, after a few weeks of classes, she told me her ex was long gone and she was “enjoying getting reacquainted with herself.”
Apparently, Dylan takes up a lot of real estate in my brain because she comes up in conversations frequently. A couple of the dudes I spar with at the mixed martial arts gym mock me whenever I talk about Dylan. “Nah, dude,” they say, “you gotta go after what you want. Dudes and chicks can never just be friends.”
But I like having her as a friend. I don’t even enjoy the taste of coffee all that much, or, I didn’t until I became friends with Dylan and we started meeting up to talk at a local coffee shop.
“I know it’s weird, but I like having at least one male friend to listen to,” she told me during one of those first meetups. “I like not having to be the one to talk. I like listening to you. And I don’t mind that we give each other shit, because I trust you, and most importantly, you don’t shout.” It was one of those rare moments when she wasn’t busting my balls, and I think that was the moment I fell for her.
I’m not exactly the most chatty person, but she brings it out of me. And it sounded like she’d had a tough road. Raised by a drunk, authoritarian father, verbally abused by other people in her family, taken advantage of by a bullying ex. Things have gotten better since we met, and I’m glad. She deserves to be treated right.
The time she playfully punched me in the arm as we were leaving one of our coffee meetups and said, “It’s nice to have a gentle giant around,” was the first time I dared to hug her.
“You down for a bear hug from the Grizz?”
She smiled and blinked up at me and she looked like an angel. “Thanks for asking first. And yes.”
As I embraced her, I sneaked a whiff of the top of her head, and her deep green, summery scent made me feel sunshine and heat everywhere. Every time she’s come in for a hug since that day has been a little gift. That fresh, sunny fragrance gets on my shirt and I walk around smiling like an idiot for the rest of the day.
Lately, it’s not just her scent that sticks with me all day and lifts my spirits. It’s her smile, her walk, her voice, her overall goodness. Everything that feels wonky feels right again whenever I spend time with Dylan.
I realize suddenly that Dylan is watching me while I daydream. She already cleaned up the bathroom and I’m still sitting on the edge of the tub, staring up at her like a dope while she puts away her first-aid supplies and wipes down the surfaces with her spray bottle of bleach dilution.
“Dylan,” I say. “Put the bleach away. I have to tell you something.”
I swallow down a b
ig lump of anxiety because I know what I’m about to tell her is going to change everything, and I don’t know if it will be for better or for worse. But if she’s into it, it can only make everything we have that much better.
She glances at me sideways as if to say yeah, right, as if I’m going to stop before I clean up every speck of blood in this room. Once everything is put away, she sits down on the toilet to face me.
“You got more to tell me? This can’t be good.”
“Could you, like, sit next to me on the tub instead of the toilet? It’s not a toilet conversation,” I stammer.
She looks down and says, “Well, I’m on the lid. It’s not like I’m having a pee while we’re talking.”
“I know but…. Look, could you just come over here and sit next to me? This is important.”
She sighs. “Well, then, if it’s important maybe we should go into the kitchen or the living room.”
“Dammit, Dylan, if you make me leave this fuckin’ room I’m going to lose my nerve.”
If she rejects me, well then, things will be awkward, but it won’t have to be awkward forever. We’re grown-ups; we’ll figure out how to navigate things after this, won’t we?
“All right, all right. What is it? Jeez, stop tiptoeing already.” Dylan picks some lint off my zip-up hoodie before handing it to me. She’s smiling in her sweet but snarky way. She suspects nothing. My sweet friend doesn’t even see what’s coming.
She looks cautious and curious as she sits down next to me on the edge of the tub. I take up so much space in her tiny bathroom that her leg rests against the side of my thigh, and I’m not even man-spreading. Her sparkling green eyes watch me without judgment or agenda. It’s what I’ve always liked about her. It’s comfortable seeing myself reflected back in her eyes.
I take the zip hoodie from her but I don't yet put it on. Shit. Do I really want to go down this road? Last chance to back out now, big guy. Should I get fully dressed before I say what I have to say?
“I, uh…I really want to kiss you.”
My stomach clenches as I wait for my words to sink in.
Thankfully, her curious smile doesn’t fade, but her eyebrows rise in slight surprise and…confusion? She bats her eyelashes, fluttering them in a way that’s intended to convey she’s flabbergasted, but the net effect is to make me want to feel them brush against my skin.
The few seconds that I sit staring at her, inhaling the scent of her skin, hearing her breathing shorten, watching the rosiness bloom in her cheeks, waiting for her to respond, feels like an eternity.
Chapter Three
Dylan
“You,” I start hesitantly, “…want to kiss me? Really? Are you sure?”
Grizz’s jaw tightens. He pivots on the edge of the tub to face me. “Have I ever said anything out loud I wasn’t absolutely sure of?”
I pull my lips between my teeth. “No, but how can that be? I’ve seen those kickboxing moms flirt with you. Next to them I’m such a plain Jane. I mean, I am a badass, but I show up in my scrubs, and every single one of them shows up ready to date you. Are you aware of that?”
Only Grizz can make a noise like a sigh with an exasperated grunt and have me completely comprehend what he’s thinking.
“That’s the noise you make when you’re being straightforward and I’m overthinking,” I say.
He nods.
His hands cup my face so gently it squeezes my heart.
I can’t believe this is happening. In my bathroom. He’s right, this would be weird if I was still sitting on the toilet lid.
“Let me ask you something. Have you ever seen me flirting back with any of those women at the studio?”
“Uh, no?”
“No. You haven’t. Do you think I’m the type of guy who has random hookups? I literally spend every moment I’m not at the studio with you, and lately, at the MMA gym.”
“But you could, I mean, hypothetically.”
“Dylan. Focus on me. It’s just me and you. Right here. Right now. I don’t want any of them. For a long time now, I’ve only wanted to kiss you.”
His words make my breath catch.
“Really? Holy crap. Since when?”
“Since that time at the grocery store. By the pomegranates. You were wearing that fuzzy yellow sweater.”
A lump forms in my throat. “With the bees on it.”
He nods, his hands still cupping my face. His thumbs stroke my cheek. My heart is a giant rainbow bath bomb that’s been dropped in hot water, and the exuberant fizzing is too much to be contained by my ribcage.
“I can’t believe you remember that sweater.” I can barely get the words out; my breathing has gone shallow.
“I remember everything. I’ve memorized everything about you. And I don’t want a random hookup. I just want to be with you. I want this to be a thing. You and me.”
My face feels hot under his touch. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating. I have to stifle a nervous giggle as the opening lyrics of that Eminem song plays in my head, the one I use when I’m warming up for kickboxing practice.
“You don’t even know if I’m a good kisser,” I say. “You might regret it and then our whole friendship is ruined.”
“Dylan, do you want me to kiss you or not?” Damn, that boyish grin is tempting me to tackle him backwards right into the tub.
I have to stop overthinking. I lick my lips and inch closer.
Grizz’s smiling eyes turn to smoldering when he studies my mouth. I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly with his shallow breaths. He closes his eyes as his soft lips play softly against mine. This thick tower of a man might look like a statue, but his lips on mine might be the softest, sweetest sensation I’ve ever felt in my entire life. His warm lips slide over mine and every inch of my skin lights up like a hundred sparklers. I’ve thought long and hard about those full lips. Stared at them during our many coffee sessions over the past two years. Wondered how they would feel, how they would taste. And now that it’s finally happening, I wish I would have tried it sooner. My gentle giant Grizz knows how to lay one on. Heavy and firm, but soft and sensual.
My best friend is hands down the best kisser. Ever. I peek at him by opening one eye. Both his eyes are closed. How is it possible he’s even more beautiful to look at with his eyes closed? Even with one of them swollen from the fight? My tummy does a tumble when I realize it’s because he’s got feelings behind this kiss. His normally stoic face is full of emotions while he’s kissing me.
I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I rest them on his thighs. My touch elicits a quiet growl from him. He pulls away from the kiss and we stare at each other for a few moments, saying nothing. Grizz rubs the tip of his nose against mine and I have to giggle.
“Your moves are pretty cute, you know that?” I say.
His hands go from my face to my hands, pulling me up with him so I’m standing in front of him. “I don’t have any moves. With you I just do what comes naturally.”
I hopelessly wish away the deepening blush in my cheeks when Grizz rests his hand on my hips. It feels like the way a man should hold on to his woman. It’s a little bit like he’s telling me to stay focused on him. I can’t angle away. I like the way his big hands makes me feel claimed, not owned but a clear sign saying, “yes, this is us, we’re together, stay here with me.”
Grizz makes me feel safe. I’ve been on my own and taking care of myself for so long. I’ve learned to defend myself, though I’m thankful I’ve never needed to use those skills against a real attacker. I am strong like an Amazon, despite my chronic pain, but just being close to him feels like a whole separate layer of comfort and reassurance.
His hand goes back to my chin and lifts my face up to look in my eyes. “So, what do you say? Are you my girl?”
I can’t help myself, I have to correct him. “No.”
“Oh,” he says thickly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Are…are you sure?”
I smile and nod. “I’m your
woman. OK?”
Grizz looks abashed and exhales a heavy, relieved breath. “You know what I meant, right? I didn’t mean it in a weird way. I just meant like girlfriend.”
“You know I love baiting you.”
“Dammit, girl, are you my fuckin’ girlfriend or aren’t you?”
“Yeah, Grizz. I’m your fuckin’ girlfriend. It’s settled.”
“I can’t believe we had this talk in the bathroom.”
I slap his chest. “You’re the one who said you would lose your nerve in the time it would take to move the discussion into the living room!”
He laughs and pulls me close. His massive body arches into me, his knees bending so he can meet my lips with a soft, playful peck. “Gotcha,” he says.
Chapter Four
Grizz
Now that that’s out of the way, everything feels lighter. Dylan has always made me feel that way. She’s never pushed me to speak when I didn’t want to, but as a friend she’s always encouraged me to express myself.
She once told me I was going to give myself a tumor if I held everything inside. She was joking, I’m pretty sure. I don’t know, she is a nurse though. Sometimes I can’t tell when she’s serious or just showing her dark sense of humor. But I’m pretty sure there’s something to that.
Now that I’ve told her how I feel, everything makes sense. Everything feels right and complete. Like a jigsaw puzzle finally coming together with the final piece. I mean, it took me long enough to find that final piece, but maybe that’s because I’m not great with puzzles. I sometimes have to remove the couch cushions and shit because I can’t keep a thousand tiny puzzle pieces on the table with my big arms and sausage fingers. Whatever, maybe I should just not do puzzles alone.
I let Dylan take the lead as we move into the hallway, laughing like a couple of teenagers as we explore the best angles for kissing while standing—not an easy feat with my size compared to hers. I move gently against her tiny body, angling down to meet her, making sure she doesn’t have to do any of the work, and making sure I’m not too rough with her.
