by Amity Cross
Turning in my chair, I stared at the Post-it note. What was wrong with me?
I wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t Ash or Ren and definitely not Dr. Ormond. If I was being totally honest with myself, I wanted to talk to Lincoln. I wasn’t afraid of him touching me, not anymore, I was afraid of him leaving. But I keep pushing against him, and one day when I turn around, he won’t be there anymore. That’s the bit I was afraid of—missing my chance and being left alone.
Maybe he didn’t realize I liked him. Maybe he was just trying to be nice. Maybe that’s all it took to get started.
Dr. Ormond had said to ask him. To try. That’s what regular people did, they put themselves on the line and asked. A wave of confidence spiked, and I felt my blood begin to hum.
Pushing my chair back, I strode out of the office and went downstairs into the gym like one of those girls from my books taking a chance on the guy they liked. I just had to put myself out there and everything would work out, right? Have confidence and believe.
I’d ask him to lunch, say I’d reconsidered, and we’d talk and just…get started. The notion filled my head and heart, and for once in my life, it felt like it was within reach. ‘It’ being happiness.
Casting my gaze across the floor, I stilled as I found Lincoln over on the mats. I was drawn to him like a magnet, my heart swelling, and I took a determined step forward. That’s when I saw Andrea. Perfect Andrea with her perfect hair, her perfect body and her perfect smile. I froze, my expression falling, and this unbelievable wave of despair crashed into my tiny spark of confidence and overwhelmed it.
His hands were around her ankles as she powered through a bunch of sit-ups, her face not even changing from the stupid smile she wore. She liked his attention…she liked him. He was saying something to her and she laughed, and it was like fucking bells tinkling. How could I compete with that? I couldn’t.
Frowning, I turned away. They looked perfect together.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
11
Lincoln
I’d been expecting her to say yes.
But she was Violet Fuller and nothing was ever on par with her. She was all over the place, but I could hardly blame her for that. Ash was right on the money when he’d said that she was stubborn as all fuck. At the mere mention of wanting to look out for her, she’d clammed up and instantly bristled. I didn’t give a fuck what she said. There was still a spark inside of her.
Cole and Ryan had left half an hour ago, and the idiots hadn’t cleaned up after themselves, so I was left to put away their weights. I bashed about, frustrated as all hell, as I put everything back in its right place, cursing the bastards, but in reality it all stemmed down to sexual fucking frustration.
I was used to getting what I wanted. I’d make my intentions clear and that would be it. I’ve never had to work for it, and especially not with a woman who seemed to be afraid of the entire fucking world.
Glancing up as I heard footsteps echo through the empty gym, I caught sight of Violet. She turned the corner and hurried across the open space to the back door, her head down. Fuck, Violet.
I didn’t know what else to do to get through to her. Maybe there wasn’t anything I could do. Maybe I’d already done everything, and all I was doing was torturing us both. Maybe I should let it go.
The door banged, echoing through the empty gym and she was gone, doing nothing for my temperament.
I should be worried about my shoulder and the fucked up prognosis I’d gotten on Friday. I should be working on my exercises and getting that right so I could get back to Sydney and fight. Six months was a long time in the lifespan of a fighter, and I knew I’d have no hope in placing this season even if I got back before it was all over. I should be doing a lot of things, but all I could focus on was her.
“Hey.”
I glanced up as I put the last weight back on the rack and found Andrea standing beside me. Fuck.
“Thanks for today,” she said, rubbing her towel over her sweaty breasts. “Best session yet.”
I grunted, looking at the back door that Violet had disappeared through.
“I’ll catch you tomorrow?” When I didn’t reply, she nudged me with her shoulder. “Linc?”
I turned my attention back to her and nodded. God, my dick was so hard from that interlude with Violet. Ever since she turned up, it was constantly in the on position.
“See ya,” I said roughly to Andrea, striding from the gym and into the change rooms.
I was so confused. I couldn’t figure out if Violet was trying to politely brush me off or if she was too shy to say anything. Mixed signals were one thing, but her entire channel was scrambled.
I leaned back against the wall, my dick hard in my shorts. I knew what I wanted, so what was holding me back? In a way, I guess we both had problems with fear. Fear was a dirty word to a fighter. Let fear overwhelm you in the cage and you get your head knocked off. It was the dirtiest word of the lot.
Breathing heavily, I shoved a hand down the front of my shorts and fisted my cock. What I wouldn’t give to be able to have Violet the way I wanted, but I knew that was impossible. I wasn’t man enough to fix her, to fucking heal her after what she’d been through. I was a fucking child when it came to relationships. Violet didn’t need a kid toying with her emotions, she needed a fucking man who could step up and take care of her.
“Want a hand with that?”
My eyes snapped open and collided with Andrea’s. Fuck, what was she still doing here? I’d agreed to some personal training twice a week. I knew it was an excuse on her part to get closer to me, but it was good for the gym, or so I told myself. Mainly it was an excuse to stare at her tits. I was a guy, and the fact that I had my hand down my shorts was proof. I was perpetually hard and ready to go.
I grunted, pulling my hand away. “I thought you’d left.”
She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. Her gaze dropped to my shorts and back up. “I’m serious you know.”
I narrowed my eyes, so fucking turned on that I was seriously debating saying yes. Just thinking about sticking my cock in something had my mind fogging over.
“Wanna fuck, fighter?”
At the thought of putting my dick in a woman, I felt my balls flare. Fucking hell. I should say no, I should kick her out, jack off and be done with it.
When I didn’t move straight away, Andrea stepped forward, placing her hand over my erection. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip as she started to massage me through my shorts. Closing my eyes, I flexed against her, my body taking over.
Push her away, push her away.
“It’s just fucking,” I said, opening my eyes. “Just so we’re clear.”
Andrea smiled in triumph, titling her head to the side.
“Just fucking,” she replied, pulling off her sports bra.
She stood there, her tits on full show, and my dick took over. Reaching out, I pulled her into my arms, covering her mouth with mine. Her tongue was warm and wet as I kissed her, my hands clamped around her breasts, and all I could think about was chasing my release. Didn’t matter who it was with. I needed to take this pent up sexual frustration out on something. Andrea was willing, knew the score, so a fuck was what I was going to get.
An empty fuck that did nothing for me but dull the ache. It was something I swore I’d never do again, but as I shoved down my shorts and she fell to her knees and began to suck my erection, I couldn’t give a shit.
I closed my eyes and imagined she was Violet. I imaged she was the one who cried out with pleasure as I entered her, holding her against the wall. I imagined it was her legs wrapped around my waist. I imagined it was her pussy I fucked in long, hard strokes. I imagined it was her I came inside of.
Violet…
Who was the asshole now?
12
Violet
I guess I was currently undergoing a test.
A test of strength, a test of resilience…or something like that.
Ash was away on holiday and had taken my safety net with him. I wanted to learn how to deal on my own, but I wasn’t expecting my already quiet life to be even more…quiet. I was used to his stupid head being around, especially since he’d spent the year before last here on house arrest. Since then, he’d come and gone for days at a time, but never for this long.
It got me thinking that this is what it’d be like to be truly alone in the world.
I kept myself busy with Netflix and microwave meals and got a huge delivery of groceries so I didn’t have to worry about going out. Sometimes my dependency on my brother scared the hell out of me.
I avoided Lincoln when I could at work, but Ash had left him in charge, so it was unavoidable. Our conversations had been brief and I could hardly look him in the eye. I’m sure he knew I was crushing on him and that my heart was broken since I sure as fuck didn’t do much to cover my awkwardness around him.
Long story short, I felt like a little girl around him. Lincoln was a man…he wasn’t interested in children.
Gearing up for another night at home with the television, I left my dinner rotating in the microwave and headed upstairs to get ready for another marathon session of Supernatural. Flicking on my bedroom light, I moved across the room and picked up the remote. Something black overhead caught my attention, and I glanced up and screamed.
A huge ass fucking Huntsman spider was sitting in the middle of my ceiling…right over my bed.
Scuttling backward, I darted into the bathroom, opening and closing doors trying to find something to spray it with. My hands shook as I fumbled through the bottles of shower gel and nail polish remover.
Shivering, my skin crawled at the thought of that thing falling onto my bed. Shit, fuck, ass, bastard! It had to be at least as big as my palm.
If there was one thing I was afraid of, other than the obvious, it was spiders. Deadly fucking spiders that would eat your face off. Huntsmans were harmless, but they were huge and had all the legs and the crawling.
My hand clamped around a giant can of hairspray I kept on the basin and I peered around the door. It was still in the same place, sitting there like it owned the joint. I aimed the can up and edged around the motionless spider, positive it was about to spring into life and come right at me.
I could try to scoop it into a glass or a bowl, but it would run and drop to the floor. The thought of it disappearing where I couldn’t find it was worse than seeing it on the ceiling, so I aimed and sprayed. I doused the thing with hairspray, and it began to flee across the roof as I squealed, my finger jammed on the button. Before long, its movements became sluggish, its long legs sticking to the roof, and then it stopped completely.
Grabbing a dirty glass from on top of my bookshelf, I climbed onto the end of the bed and reached up, my hands shaking. Shit, it was just a fucking spider…and it was motherfucking stuck to my roof. I raised the glass and it moved, its hairspray-laden leg waving around wildly, and I made a hasty retreat. Its other legs tried to move, and it made it an inch before it halted completely, well and truly stuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, and I automatically went to press Ash’s number, but I hesitated. He wasn’t here. Right underneath, in alphabetical order in my almost empty contact list, was Lincoln’s name. I glanced at the spider and almost threw up in my mouth.
I didn’t have anyone else to call. Swallowing hard, I pressed my finger on his number and put the phone against my ear. As it began to ring, I pointed the hairspray at the huge, furry, black lump in case it tried anything.
“Hello?”
I froze as I heard his voice, suddenly feeling like a right idiot. “Hello?”
“Violet?”
“I’m sorry to call…”
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a…thing…and I’m afraid, and I can’t get it down…” My words rushed together as I stared up at the spider that was now firmly stuck to the roof.
“Wait, slow up,” he replied, sounding worried. “What thing?”
“A spider.”
There was a pause. “A spider?” He sounded amused.
“It’s fucking huge,” I cried. “It’s over my bed and I can’t—”
“You’re afraid of spiders?” he asked a little more gently this time.
“Petrified,” I said with a sigh. This was stupid. I was calling Lincoln because of a motherfucking spider.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted before he could answer. “You’re probably busy, and this is dumb. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not busy,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Violet,” he said firmly. “Do want me to come get it?”
I glanced up at the spider, which still hadn’t moved, and edged out the door into the hall. My throat felt thick.
“I’m coming over,” he said when I didn’t answer. “Give me your address.”
“You sure?” I whispered.
“I’m sure.”
I gave him the address, and he told me he was on his way. When the call ended, I clutched the phone to my chest, hardly believing that I’d just called Lincoln fucking Hayes, AUFC fighter, to come get a spider from my roof. If Ash found out, he’d never let me live it down.
I lingered in the hallway, wondering how far Lincoln had to come to get here. He was probably out with Andrea. I’m sure she would’ve done something to crack onto him by now, it’d been weeks. What if I’d brought the wrath of little miss perfect down on me? I didn’t want attention. I couldn’t handle confrontation. I’d crumble under the pressure. Shit, I mean, look at how I was handling a fucking spider.
When the buzzer on the gate sounded, I thumped my finger on the button to unlock it and bounded downstairs. Peeking out the door, I caught sight of Lincoln making his way up the front path. Lincoln was at my house.
Abruptly, I was aware that I was wearing pajama bottoms with the jumper I’d worn to work that day.
He smiled when he saw me lingering, his eyes flashing in the dark. “Hey.”
Stepping back, I opened the door to let him inside. “I’m sorry to call you,” I blurted.
“No problem,” he replied, looking around the foyer and into the kitchen. “Nice place.”
“You must’ve been busy,” I went on nervously. “I didn’t mean—”
“Violet,” Lincoln said firmly, his gaze fixing on mine. “It’s okay. Where’s the offending spider?”
“Upstairs.”
“Lead the way.”
I led Lincoln through the house to my bedroom, overly aware that he was inches behind me and about to enter my space. The space that was my home…and my hiding place. He was the first to step into it since that night. Ash didn’t count. This had to be progress, right?
I stopped at the door and pointed to the roof where the spider still sat, stuck like glue, right above the place I slept. “There.”
Lincoln’s expression changed into one of determination as he stepped into my room, his attention firmly planted on the spider. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s a big fucker.”
He picked up the glass from where I’d left it on the bookshelf and moved forward, jumping up onto the bed.
“Fuck,” he cursed, swiping at the spider. “The fucker’s stuck to the ceiling. What’d you spray it with?”
“Hairspray,” I replied sheepishly.
Lincoln stared at me, dumbfounded, for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Well, you got it good. It’s fuckin’ hangin’ by a leg.”
I shrunk back as he stuck the glass over it. “Just get it down.”
“Just a sec,” he muttered, nudging the spider with the rim, and it dropped into the cup with a light pinging sound. He smacked his hand over the end of the glass, trapping the Huntsman inside, and jumped from the bed. “Window.”
Darting across the room, I undid the window and wrenched it up, cold air blasting inside. I swept the curtain aside, Lincoln leaned out and tipped the glass upside down.
“There,” he said, pulling his big frame back into the room. “Gone.” He held up the empty glass as proof and I closed the window, cutting off the flow of air.
“Thanks.”
“Hairspray?” he asked, his lips quirking.
“It’s all I had.”
“Well, can’t say I’ve ever seen a Huntsman stuck to a roof before.”
We stood by the window, staring at each other for a moment. He smiled before turning his attention onto my things.
“You like books?” he asked, walking over to my shelves. I watched as he ran a thick finger over the spines, touching the things I held so dear. They were all the happy endings I longed for.
“Yeah.”
He glanced at me with a smile before gesturing to the television, which was sitting open on Netflix. “What were you watching?”
I shrugged, kinda star struck.
“You can talk to me Violet,” he said, with a frown.
“You make me nervous,” I blurted.
“Is that what it is?” He rubbed at the back of his neck. Definitely a nervous habit. “I wasn’t sure if it was me or…”
“I don’t know how to talk to you,” I said truthfully.
“You’re talking to me now.”
I paused, glancing down at my hands. I guess I was.
I felt Lincoln move across the room toward me. “Do you wanna watch something?”
“I—”
Lincoln raised his hand, and I tensed as his skin came into contact with mine. His fingers pressed against the underside of my chin, and he urged me upward until our gazes met.
“Violet,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“I know.” I went to look down again, but he held my chin a little tighter, forcing me to look him in the eye. “It’s just… I’m not good at this. People.” People who I was in total lust with.
“Then, let me help you.”
This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Maybe Lincoln didn’t want me more than a friend, but was that so bad for someone like me? I needed a friend, someone outside of Ash and Ren. Someone different. Someone new. Lincoln could be it, right?
