by Aly Martinez
“It means what if we don’t work out as more!” He matched my intensity. “We are good at friends. Let’s stick with that.”
“Well, what if I decide to move to Zimbabwe to become a missionary?”
He arched his eyebrow. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we were playing the ‘what-if’ game,” I replied sarcastically. “Because my what-if is just as plausible as yours. Hell, maybe even more likely.”
“Stop fucking around and be serious here.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.” I sucked in a deep breath, grasping for some semblance of calm that had obviously escaped me. “Till, you cuddle with me during scary movies and take out my trash if you notice it’s full,” I stated, and he stopped pacing long enough to tilt his head in confusion. “I cook for you almost five days a week and do well over half of your laundry after the ‘black sweater with the white towels’ fiasco. You are the first person I run to when I’ve had a bad day because you wrap me in your arms so it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. You’ve never, in eight years, missed my birthday or, miraculously, a single night when I’ve made twice-baked potatoes. We lean on each other in virtually every facet of life. When you’ve had a bad day, I’m not sure if I’m the first person you run to, but I know for a fact that I’m the only person you fully trust to unload on. You would protect me with your life, and I would do the same for you. If you have a problem, I solve it—”
“That’s actually Vanilla Ice.”
“And I laugh at your jokes even when you tell them at completely the wrong times.”
“Sorry,” he said with an unapologetic shrug.
“We love each other ferociously—and if the last few days are any indication, we are undeniably attracted to each other sexually too. Till, we’ve been basically married for a long time. Facing the facts won’t change anything.”
“I can’t risk that it will, Eliza.”
“Well, it’s too late. We took the risk last night, and not five minutes ago, we were risking it all over again. I love you. That’s not ever going to change.”
“Bullshit! It will change. You’re right. We do lean on each other for almost everything, and if you weren’t here, I’d end up flat on my ass. Those six months when we were apart damn near destroyed me. I love you and would go to the ends of the Earth to keep you. But I am not fucking this up by trying to make it into something it may or may not be.”
“Oh, but you were okay with fucking me up last night?”
He grimaced. “Don’t act like that. That’s not fair. I wasn’t trying to—”
“Not fair? Oh, so now, we’re talking about fair? Well, let me tell you how fucking not fair this is to me. I fell in love with a man whose fantasy is crawling through my window to escape reality. All the while, my fantasy is walking out that door to navigate reality by his side. I’m pretty sure that is the definition of not fair.”
“Eliza.” He shook his head.
“No. Shut up. I’m so sick of living in your goddamn fantasy. You know what, fuck it!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him out of my room.
He didn’t put up as fight as we headed toward the front door, but he threw on the brakes the moment I snatched it open.
“Stop,” he said quietly.
“Come on, Till. We’ve been doing it your way for eight fucking years. It’s my turn.” I was beyond the point of rationality. I was madder than I could remember ever being, but not one single tear fell from my eyes. I really was done.
His feet didn’t budge.
“Let’s go!” I yelled again, pulling on his arms.
I’m not sure what I was trying to prove. I just wanted my fucking way for once. It wasn’t an issue of if Till wanted me or not, loved me or not, or could have me or not. It was all about his silly little need to keep me squirreled away because he was scared I’d eventually leave. He couldn’t understand that leaving him would have killed me too. I couldn’t have done it even if the world suddenly caught fire. I would have died at his side before my legs would have carried me away.
He silently stared at me as the tears finally made it to my eyes. I walked past him, and he turned, snagging my arm and dragging me into a hug.
“I love you. I swear I do. Please let that be enough,” he pleaded, stroking my hair and holding me tight.
We were it for each other, and there was nothing but a little boy’s dream world standing in our way.
“Okay. We’ll be fine.” I sniffled and stepped out of his grasp.
His whole body sagged as his chin dropped to his chest and his eyes closed in relief.
And then I ended it.
I rushed forward, and with both hands, I shoved Till as hard as I possibly could. Catching him off guard, I sent him stumbling out the door.
He stood dazed and in shock. His mouth hung open as his eyes blinked rapidly. It was physically painful for me to witness, but it had to be done.
“The fantasy’s over. Let me know when you’re ready to use the door.” With one swift push, I slammed the door on my relationship with Till Page.
I didn’t lock it. I actually stood there willing him to rush back through. He could be as mad as he wanted if he would just open that door and walk inside. I didn’t budge until I heard his footsteps head toward my bedroom. I sprinted back to my room, and just as he approached, I slammed the window too.
His gentle eyes turned murderous. “Open the fucking window,” he demanded through the glass.
“No.”
“Open the window!” he shouted.
“No more, Till. I love you, but I’m sick of living in your fantasy. My door will always be open for you.” Tears fell from my eyes as I watched each word land on his gorgeous face. “No more windows. No more pretending.”
“Eliza, don’t do this. We’ll start over. Go back to friends.”
“I can’t go back to that. Not after experiencing what we can be together.”
“Doodle! Open the window.” He pounded the heel of his hand against the brick building.
“Goodbye, Till.”
His eyes went wide as I slowly lowered the blinds. “Stop. Eliza!” he yelled until I drew the curtains.
Half of me expected him to shatter the glass to get back inside, but I guessed that would have ruined his magical window forever.
After several minutes, I heard him make his way back upstairs, which was immediately followed by several minutes of him yelling and breaking things. I couldn’t listen to any of it. I pulled my headphones on, curled into a ball on the bed, and allowed myself to lose it too.
I couldn’t lie to myself. There was always something romantic about Till’s crawling in my window and the way it made me feel to be so special that he was afraid to use the door. He wasn’t delusional—he knew the truth. But, sometimes, in the world we lived in, where everything was a struggle, it was easy to become dependent on the things that numbed the chaos. Some people turned to drugs or alcohol as an escape. But I had Till . . . and he had the fantasy.
IT EXPLODED. ONE MINUTE, I was holding her in my arms as she came calling my name. And minutes later, she was gone. I nearly tore down the building that night. I sure as hell destroyed my room. In all seriousness, I considered prying up the floorboards and dropping into her bedroom through the ceiling. It was crazy, but that was exactly how my life felt too. Flint came to check on me, but he didn’t ask a single question about why I was suddenly on a rampage against my furniture. It was safe to assume he and Quarry had heard the whole thing and knew what a delusional fool their brother was. Outstanding.
For a full twenty-four hours, I wallowed. I had no choice but to go to work. I went through the movements, but my mind was consumed with all things Eliza. I was a zombie. My mind scattered through scenarios that would get her back, but I knew there was only one solution—the impossible.
The first night without her, I snuck down to purgatory and left a new sketchpad against her window.
The second
night, I stared a hole in my floor.
The third, I lay in my bed and talked to her—at least I hoped she could hear me.
I confessed to every time I had copped a feel and disguised it as something innocent over the years. I was completely unaware of how long that list really was until I hit the two-hour mark.
I missed her.
It had been three days, and I craved her on every level. She would come around though. We’d talk it out and go back to how we used to be. But what honestly pained me was that, even though I knew the way it had to be, I didn’t want to go back to being friends. I wanted to crawl through the floor and bury myself inside her.
I threw myself into the only thing that seemed to distract me—On The Ropes.
“What’s up, Leo?” I shook his hand, but he pulled it in for a back pat.
“Not much, man. How the hell are you guys doing?”
Leo James was the head of Slate and, his wife, Erica’s security team. He was up at the gym a good bit and often brought his family with him. I couldn’t quite figure out the dynamic with that group, but I thought maybe Leo and Erica were related somehow. They were super close, but for as protective as Slate was over Erica, he never seemed fazed in the slightest by how tight they were.
“We’re good. Jesus. You running a day care in here?” I stepped away as I was almost plowed over by an angry heard of toddlers.
Slate and Erica had two kids; Adam was three, and Riley was still a baby. I’d have been hard-pressed to take a guess at her age though. Then Leo and his wife, Sarah, had Tyler, who was two, and an eight-year-old daughter named . . .
“Hey, Liv,” Quarry greeted from behind me.
“Hey, Q,” she responded shyly before going back to playing with Adam.
“It sure as hell feels like it sometimes,” Leo responded with a laugh. “We’re headed out to dinner, and Slate said you’d watch the kids.”
“What?” I asked as my eyes flew to Slate, who was chatting with Erica on the other side of the room.
“Yeah. It’s an overnight thing. I packed extra diapers, so you should be good. Just keep an eye on the boy. I snuck him a few Pixy Stix on the way over. He’s gonna be wired.”
Erica must have read the fear in my eyes from across the room, because she shouted, “Leave him alone! Ignore him, Till. We’re meeting a friend here then heading out. With the kids.”
“Oh thank God,” I breathed, causing Leo and Slate to burst into laughter.
“Speaking of . . .” Slate nodded to the gym door.
A big, tattooed dude and a smoking-hot blonde came walking in arm in arm.
“Where are the kids?” Sarah yelled with disappointment.
“Wow. It’s great to see you too, sis,” the blonde said sarcastically. “We left them with Brett and Jesse. There is no way we are finally going out of town, getting a nice hotel room, and bringing the kids with us.”
“I told you I had a nanny!” Erica whined, obviously sharing Sarah’s disappointment.
“Look, we haven’t been alone since the twins were born.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and the man at her side smirked.
“Well, okay, then.” Slate changed the subject as the women started giggling. “Caleb, this is Till Page. Till, Caleb Jones.”
“What’s up, man? I’ve heard good things about you.” He extended a hand.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Slate’s been telling me for years that you’re the next big—”
Slate cut him off. “All right. Let’s get out of here. Till, I need you in the ring with Derrick tonight. You both need a good workout, so make it happen.” He pulled a key chain out of his pocket. “You think you can lock up tonight?”
I looked down at a silver boxing glove.
“Those are yours. Don’t lose them.”
I blinked rapidly. It was just a key on a pretty sweet key chain, but it was so much more to me. As far as I knew, no one had keys to On The Ropes except for Slate. And the fact that he was giving me a set meant more than I would ever be able to explain.
I cleared my throat so I didn’t sound like a bitch getting all emotional. “Um . . . I get to keep them?”
“Yep. Go with Leo, and have him set up your code for the alarm.”
I get my own code for the alarm too? Shit. I really was an emotional bitch.
A half hour later, the whole crew left. The gym quieted down, and I was finally allowed a few minutes to obsess about Eliza again. Fuck. She would have understood what those keys meant to me. She probably would have gotten all excited and jumped up and down, giving me an opportunity to watch her tits bounce. Double fuck.
“Till!” Flint called from the ring, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You coming?”
“Shit. Sorry. Yeah, I’m coming.” I grabbed a set of pads and jogged over.
Distraction. That was just what I needed.
Flint was killing it as Derrick Bailey came strutting into the gym. Why the hell he came to the gym in slacks and a pink button-down, I would never understand.
“Where’s Slate?” he asked from the corner.
“He took off. He had some friends come into town,” I answered absently as Flint’s gloves continued to pound out a rhythm. “He wants us to spar tonight. Go get warmed up.”
The bell rang, and I finally gave him my attention.
“Nah. I’ll work out on my own while I wait on him to get back. He’ll be back later, right?” he asked with his eyes glued to two of the rich girls who used the gym like a country club.
“Nope. I’m locking up tonight.”
His head snapped to mine. I fucking loved that feeling. He didn’t have keys—that much was certain.
“You?”
“Yep. Slate gave me a set of keys.” It was an obvious statement that had been implied with the whole “I’m locking up” thing, but I really just threw it out there to rub salt in the wound.
He slowly nodded as he stared at me. God, it felt good to be one up on that asshole.
“Get changed and warmed up. I’ll meet you in the ring in an hour. I’ve got to finish this up then switch over the towels.”
“You ever get sick of being the maid, Till?” He laughed as he said it. That was Bailey’s way—an insult laced by a laugh to mask it. His mouth painted the picture, but the words told the story.
“Sorry. I don’t have a rich daddy that I can leech off,” I shot back. No laugh. Just an evil glare. That was my way.
“Right. Well, how is your dad? He doing well in lockup?” He smiled.
My nostrils flared. I didn’t have a clue if Bailey knew anything about my father. It wasn’t like I ever spoke about him. But with that shit-eating grin chiseled on his asshole face, I knew that he had done some homework on me.
“Let’s finish.” Flint stepped in front of me, blocking my view. I tried to look around him, but Flint mirrored my every move. “Forget about it,” he urged quietly.
Yeah. I’d forget about it—until I stepped into the ring with that motherfucker. Sparring with Bailey suddenly sounded like a whole lot more fun.
An hour later, with my temper no less quelled, I headed for the ring.
“Go tell Bailey I’m ready for him!” I yelled to Flint, who was oddly not showered or changed yet.
“Nah. I’ll let you get him.” He smiled awkwardly.
“He’s doing it with that girl in the locker room,” Quarry announced as he took a bite from an apple.
“What?”
“You know, doing it. Like, having sex,” Quarry clarified as if that were the part I couldn’t understand.
Flint smacked him on the back of his head then nodded, letting me know that Quarry wasn’t wrong.
“Dumbass,” I cursed as I stormed into to the locker room.
The door to the massage room was shut, but even I could hear the moans echoing around. I slammed my fist against the door and heard a woman squeak in surprise.
“Let’s go, Bailey.” I was fucking pissed. Not because I really cared t
hat he was fucking some sorority girl. But rather that he was doing it at the gym with several kids still milling around. Slate would destroy him if he found out.
“Give me a minute . . . Maybe five,” he called out, causing his girl to giggle. Within seconds, the moans started up again.
I was going to fucking kill him. Plain and simple. I stomped out of the locker room but only long enough to dig the keys out of my bag. With the flip of my wrist, I swung the door open to their not-so-private refuge.
“Son of a bitch!” Derrick cussed as the chick grabbed her shirt to cover her breasts.
“Get out!” I growled.
He didn’t budge, but the chick shimmied up her shorts as she scrambled past me. “Really?” he huffed, dragging his own pants up.
“There are fucking kids here. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, currently, blue balls. Thanks for that, dickhead. You think I can convince the other one to suck me off?” His eyes, tone, and face were stone-wall serious. So much so that I decided he had problems way bigger than me or even Slate.
Then he smirked.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I barked.
Reaching into his pants, he snapped a condom off. He made a less-than-half-assed effort to look for a trash can before dropping it on the floor. “Have housekeeping clean that up for me.” He laughed. “Oh wait . . . That’s you.”
I was honestly too stunned to react as he walked past me. Bailey was a fucking prick, but he didn’t have balls. And if he suddenly thought he was going to grow a pair, I was going to rip those fuckers off.
I spun around and grabbed his shirt, slingshotting him hard against the wall.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I roared into his face.
“Wow. That got your hackles raised.” He stood there grinning at me as if he didn’t have a fucking care in the world.
I couldn’t breathe without worrying about the myriad of somethings ever brewing in my head. Yet, even with my forearm across his throat, he grinned. It enraged me.
“You sorry sack of shit.” I shoved him harder, but the brick wall behind him failed to yield to my will.
