Strike: Dax

by Heather C. Leigh

  “You really won the roommate lottery, Kate.” My friend Abby glances over at Lila’s side of the room with disgust. Designer clothes are tossed everywhere, littering the bed and the floor—even her desk. The sarcasm in Abby’s voice is evident.

  “You don’t know half of it.” I throw my Intro to Psychology textbook into my duffel with my footy gear and zip it closed. “She’s got a different bloke in here just about every night.”

  Abby’s eyebrows shoot up, “Every night?”

  I nod. “Just about. It’s so bloody inconvenient. She made a rule that if one of us is in here having it off, you put a sock on the doorknob so the other won’t come in and interrupt.” I stifle a smile when Abby bursts out laughing. We’re in a class together and became fast friends.

  “She’s unbelievable,” Abby chokes out.

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah. She’s something.”

  “Why is she even here? At UCLA? Or in the dorms for that matter?” Abby asks as we head for the lifts to take us downstairs. “Clearly she has money. And she isn’t here to study.”

  The doors to the lift slide open. A few students exit before we get on. “I guess she’s here for the shagging,” I joke, only, that’s not far from the truth when it comes to my perpetually randy flatmate.

  “Huh. What a waste.” Abby is shaking her head. “I’d love to get inside that brain of hers.”

  We walk outside into the bright L.A. sun. September has just begun and it’s hot and sunny, as it’s been every day of the last four weeks since I arrived. “You and your psychoanalyzing.”

  “Hey!” Abby bumps hips with mine. “That interest in psychoanalyzing is going to help you pass Psych 101. Where would you be without me?”

  Indeed. Where would I be? I’d be in L.A. alone, no friends, no Dax, no Ellie, no anything. The thought has me resolving to try harder to find out where Ellie is staying. Classes started two weeks ago and I haven’t heard a thing from her. I’m listed in the campus directory but still, no call.

  Tomorrow, I’ll call the Department of Student Services and see if they can give me any information. I may not have Dax, but I can always count on my best mate. And right now, I could really use another friend. Someone I can lean on.

  I never spoke to Dax again after the night Tasha and I literally caught him with his pants down. I couldn’t bear to face him knowing that I had absolutely no place in his life. That whatever we had between us was about as important to him as clipping his fingernails and choosing what socks to wear.

  “I think I’m going to go on that date with that guy from the men’s footy team,” I blurt out randomly. Maybe a new bloke will help me forget about Dax. “The one who asked me to dinner last week.”

  “Really?” Abby sounds confused. “I thought you told him no.”

  I did tell him no. I had still been holding out hope that things may work out between Dax and me. “I told him I had to think about it. Not a flat out no.”

  “Good for you. So far, all I’ve seen you do is study and practice. That’s not much of a life. This is college. Time to figure out who you are and what you want.”

  “Yeah,” I respond quietly.

  Too bad what I want isn’t ever going to be mine.

  Dax

  “Dude! You’re a machine!”

  I ignore the kid who walks up next to where I’m working with the heavy bag. I hit it over and over in the exact same routine my dad had me do back home. Going through the familiar motions gives me peace. It lets my mind focus solely on the power in my body as it comes into contact with the thick, padded surface. Each strike serves as a reminder of who I really am.

  My father’s son. A violent, unfeeling bastard.

  I continue pummeling the bag, kicking and punching over and over again. Sweat is pouring off of me, dripping off my body and onto the mat. Concentrating on making each strike perfect is supposed to keep my mind from wandering. Keep out the unwelcome emotions that surge forward when I think of Kate.

  Yet she creeps in constantly. Between each flying kick I remember her bright green eyes. Between each punch I remember the way her face lights up when she smiles. Between each jab, I remember how she tasted when I kissed her. Between each front kick, I remember how I fucked it all up.

  I stop, my hands hanging at my sides as my chest heaves up and down. Frustration and anger eat away at me, boiling up like acid inside. Yanking off my gloves, I throw them on the floor, disgusted.

  I have total control over my body. It pisses me off that I can’t exert that same control over my mind. I don’t let anything bother me. Ever. I don’t allow emotions to control me. This powerlessness over my own thoughts has turned me into raging lunatic.

  A male voice snaps me out of the dark place I’m in, bringing my attention back to the gym.

  “Hey man, that was awesome! Do you fight professionally?”

  After wiping off with a towel, I glance over at the enthusiastic kid standing in front of me. “Who are you?” I’ve been here dozens of times, but don’t recognize this overly excited bloke.

  Eager as shit, the kid bounces on the balls of his toes. “Zane. Zane Denninger.”

  “Dax Davies.” I eye him up and down as we shake hands. “You’re a fighter?” Kid’s way too small to be much good in the cage. Maybe flyweight, but even then I’d have a hard time believing it.

  His cheeks turn pink. “Nah. I work the desk here. I do some kickboxing, but only for exercise.”

  “I see. And the answer to your question is no, I don’t fight professionally.” I don’t see the point in discussing my past with a stranger so I make no mention of my days in Hackney.

  “You should,” he says. “You’re really good.”

  I stare at Zane curiously. Why is he talking so much? “Nah, I can’t. Musician.” I hold up my hands. “If I injure them, I’m out of work.”

  He nods rapidly, up and down, up and down. Christ, the kid has more energy than anyone I’ve ever seen. He makes me feel old, and he can’t be but a year or two younger than me.

  “Gotcha. Music, cool. I always wanted to work in the entertainment industry. It’s why I moved out here.” Zane shrugs. “No talent though.” He grins. “Well, I better get back to work. See you around.”

  With that, he turns on his heel and walks back to the front desk.

  People in L.A. are so fucking weird. At least his blathering made me forget about Kate for a whole minute and a half. Now I understand why Adam drinks—to numb the mind, shut it off, have a bit of peace—if only for a little while. Unlike Adam, I’m not willing to sit back and let my life go on without me.

  Since I can’t stop thinking about Kate, I need to accept that I fucked up and take charge of the situation. If I have to see her and beg for her forgiveness to move on and get this shit out of my head, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll be damned if I let something as pointless as emotions torture me for weeks, months, or fuck, even years.

  Dax Davies doesn’t sit back and let shit happen. I grab it, control it, and make that shit mine.

  CHAPTER 5

  Kate

  “I’m glad you agreed to go out with me tonight. I had fun.” Mateo flashes me one of his brilliant white grins, the dimple in his left cheek visible. It looks good on him. He really is a good-looking bloke.

  “Me too,” I reply automatically, giving him what I hope is a convincing smile.

  Mateo walks me up to the door of my building where we stand a few feet apart, staring at each other awkwardly.

  “So, can I see you again?” His dark eyes are fixed on me, unwavering. I shiver with deja vu. I want to run away from those familiar eyes. That wouldn’t be fair. It’s not Mateo’s fault that they remind me of someone else’s deep brown gaze.

  A sophomore, Mateo is here from Barcelona on a football scholarship—same as me. The girl’s footy team does a few events with the men, which is how we met. He asked me out twice before I reluctantly agreed.

  It doesn’t hurt that Mateo is easy to look at—tan skin, e
yes so dark they almost look black, full lips, and perfect teeth. His slightly too-long hair always falls into his eyes, which makes him that much sexier. Plus, since he’s a footy player he’s super fit. He reminds me of a Spanish version of Oliver Giroud. Only, I can’t bring myself to see him as more than a friend.

  I’m the only one who gets the friend vibe from Mateo. Nearly all of my teammates are jealous that he asked me out. Yet I can’t seem to find the proper amount of enthusiasm. My heart just won’t let go of the past. Ten years of believing you were meant for someone else isn’t an easy thing to move past. God knows I’m trying.

  When Mateo leans in for a kiss, I reluctantly allow it, praying it will wipe away my memories of Dax. My heart is racing when his warm lips meet mine, gently pressing against them. He doesn’t deepen it or push for more, yet it feels wrong. Too intimate. Too…different.

  Mateo is the only man I’ve ever kissed besides Dax. Even though it was ages ago it feels as if I’m cheating.

  Mateo pulls back, his eyelids heavy with desire. His pupils are wide and his cheeks are flushed. I can tell he wants more, but thankfully, he’s too kind to push. Instead, he steps back, releasing me. “Good night, Kate. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I nod before turning to fumble with the lock. Once inside I bolt for the lifts and say a silent thank you when a set of doors immediately opens. Inside, I slump against the wall, fighting to keep back the tears.

  I’m afraid. Afraid that Mateo will have expectations of things I can’t give him. Afraid I’ll never be able to love anyone but Dax. Afraid I’ll be alone forever because I can’t move on from a man who was never mine. Most of all, I’m afraid that my opportunity to be happy has come and gone and no matter how hard I try to forget Dax, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life.

  Dax

  Sweat drips off of my neck, trickling down between my shoulder blades. Los Angeles is a bloody nightmare of a city. It’s hot and sunny all the damn time, which wouldn’t be so bad if there were decent public transportation. But after spending an hour and a half making two bus changes to get to the UCLA campus, I’m pretty much done with the heat and the traffic.

  It takes me another thirty minutes to cross campus to the section with student housing. A piercing ring startles me right as I stop in front of Hedrick Summit, a tall dormitory on the far side of the university property. Groaning, I fish my mobile out of my pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  “Dax? Where are you man?”

  Jesus, Adam sounds like bloody fucking hell. Again. “Adam, I told you yesterday that I was going to see if I could find Kate at UCLA.”

  His rough voice crackles through the phone. “Oh. I don’t remember.”

  Of course he doesn’t remember. He’s always on a piss up these days. After Ellie broke up with him this summer for absolutely no reason, he’s been self-destructive times a thousand, finding peace in an endless supply of blondes and booze. Not that I’m one to talk. I was so angry and frustrated when Kate caught me getting head at the club that I flipped out the next day and attacked Adam’s wanker of a dad—forcing Adam and me to leave the U.K. six weeks ahead of schedule.

  “What do you need, Adam?”

  “Ummmm, I can’t remember, really. I woke up and everyone was gone. Where are Hawke and Gavin?”

  My patience is wearing thin. Adam’s my best mate and I’d do anything for him, but being his nanny isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.

  “I don’t know. They didn’t ask me for permission to leave the flat. Get cleaned up and eat something for Christ’s sake. We have a gig tonight. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Sighing, I rein in my anger, easily trapping my emotions inside where they can fester with everything else in my life that I’ve repressed under my dad’s tutelage.

  I snap the mobile closed and stuff it in my pocket. Hawke’s uncle, Ross Evans, is now our manager. He gave each of us a mobile to keep in touch in case he needs us for anything. For me, it’s become a tether to my fragile best mate.

  “Room 1425,” I say to myself, trying to work up the nerve to walk inside the looming building. Students bound up the stairs past me, laughing and chatting like the world isn’t about to implode. For some reason, I have to make things right with Kate. I have to see her again.

  Ever since Kate refused to speak to me after that night at the fight club, I’ve been a miserable bastard. She literally caught me with my pants down and my reward sucking me off in the locker room

  Dad’s theory that withholding sexual release from us before a fight made us quick-tempered enough to step into the ring. But the promise of a whore to suck us off and rid us of the frustration after? That’s what made us determined to win. It pissed me off that he taught us that way, but it pissed me off even more to know that he was right.

  I nearly took Shaun’s head off when he admitted to letting Kate and her friend into the club. In fact, he was the one who directed them to the locker room. To this day, when I think about it, every bit of rage I felt that night comes flooding back.

  “Shaun, you useless fucking twat! Why’d you let them back here?” I storm out of the locker room, exchanging embarrassment and shame for red-tinged fury.

  My brother’s dark eyes narrow as he folds his muscular arms over his chest. “I thought they were your reward. You know, a twofer.”

  I come to an abrupt halt, my mouth gaping open in shock. “You what?” He thought Kate was a whore?

  “They were all tarted up like a couple of slags. How was I supposed to know?” He shrugs as if it were no big deal to accuse Kate of being one of dad’s hookers.

  Those words cause my vision to go completely red and I fucking snap, lunging for my brother. I know the only reason I get one solid punch in is because Shaun isn’t expecting my attack. My right fist connects with his face with a satisfying crunch. His head snaps back and he tumbles to the concrete floor. Quick as a snake, Shaun is back on his feet, his eyes flashing with fury as he wipes a trickle of blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

  Shaun spits blood onto the ground and raises his fists. “C’mon little brother. I’ll give you that one hit, but you want another you’re going to have to earn it.”

  Shaun is the most dangerous of my brothers, lethal and indifferent. Right now, I could give a shit. I leap at him, determined to take out my devastation on his ass. The pain inside of me is so acute, that I don’t feel anything as we exchange hard blows. When his fists or feet connect with my body, it’s as if I’m numb. My mind goes somewhere else, watching from afar. An unseen force must be controlling my actions, because something fragile inside me has snapped. The next thing I know, Ethan has his arm around me in a chokehold and Liam has Shaun.

  “Fuck you! Let me go!” I gasp, struggling to get out of the tight hold Ethan has me in.

  Shaun is somewhat calmer than me, but not much. Then again, he’s not having his air cut off. Liam lets go of his arms, whispering something to get Shaun to back off.

  “Dax, stop.” Ethan is still trying to reason with me as I buck against his tight grip.

  “Fuck off, Ethan! He ruined it for me! He fucking ruined everything!” I wheeze.

  “What are you talking about?” Ethan asks, still holding me back as I tussle to get at Shaun and to breathe.

  “Kate! That’s what! He cocked up my only chance with her!” Shaun smirks from behind Liam. I scream in fury at him taking pleasure in crushing what little light I had in my dark soul. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

  “Come off it, Dax,” Shaun says, that motherfucking smirk still on his face. I’d love to punch it right off for him. “You can’t have a girlfriend and you know it. Dad won’t allow it. He knows if we get regular pussy we won’t want to fight. That’s the whole point of the fucking reward, you stupid tosser.”

  I know he’s right but he can sod off. Shaun doesn’t know I’m planning to get out of here, that Adam and I are going to leave for America with Hawke and Gavin to further the band. That Kate and Ellie are going with us and
I had every intention of pursuing something with her once we were gone. None of them know. Dad would lose it if I told him I wasn’t staying to work for him.

  Living here, in this shithole? This isn’t my dream. Fighting for the next twenty years? I’d rather be dead. It feels as if an important part of my future has slipped through my fingers tonight.

  The anger bleeds out of me at the reality of my situation. I’m defeated. Lost. Without a purpose. I’d always claimed my rewards proudly. I’d earned it, it felt good, and no one was hurt so what did it matter? Today, after seeing the look on Kate’s face, I realized too late that someone was hurt, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

  It’s better this way. I’m no good for a girl like Kate. All I’d do is corrupt something good and pure. I’ll suffer now to spare her from the pain I would eventually cause.

  It takes a minute to relax my fists at the unwelcome memory. By the time I reach the 14th floor, I’m more agitated than angry—scared to see that hurt in Kate’s eyes again. The hurt I put there . It replays over and over again in my mind, haunting me since that day.

  I need to do this to take back control, to push out these obsessive thoughts so I can focus on my music. Room 1425 stares me in the face. Holding my breath, I file away my emotions, put up my hand and knock.

  “Why hello gorgeous.”

  A small, bleached blonde girl in an impossibly tiny shirt and shorts is standing in the doorway, giving me a look I can only describe as lewd. Lewd to the point of uncomfortable. So uncomfortable, I actually drag a hand across my chest to make sure I’m wearing clothes.

  Clearing my throat, I manage to speak. “Is Kate in?”

  The girl’s eyes go wide. “You’re British! Oh. My. God. Tall, gorgeous, and a sexy accent? My, oh my…” She licks her lips and gives me another once over. Christ, this girl is eye-fucking me and doesn’t care if I know it!

  “Ummmm, right. So… is Kate here? This is her flat, yeah?”