by Hawk, Maya
“No boyfriend,” I say.
“Yeah. I didn’t think so,” he says.
I turn to face him, shooting him a raised eyebrow in a silent attempt to call him out on his rudeness. My gesture is lost on him.
Instead he’s standing over the sink, pouring out his freshly poured cup of coffee. I knew it was always a ruse.
He lingers before me, hot air pushing past his flared nostrils, and within seconds he brushes past me and disappears down the hall.
I’m equal parts relieved and remorseful. Rejection stings, no matter who you are. But hopefully he’ll leave me alone from now on.
I’m just glad I didn’t have to get HR involved.
***
“Jordy, baby, it feels like you’re never home anymore.” Mom hasn’t called me Jordy in ages. Not since I was a little girl. She places her hand atop mine at dinner that night and offers the kind of smile that tells me she’s one more glass of wine from being full-blown drunk.
Lewis sits at his end of the table, adjusting his reader glasses before scrolling through the day’s news on his tablet. He’s in his own little world as per usual.
“Just busy, Mama.” I sip my water and glance at the clock, counting down the moments until I can retire to my room for the night. Part of me wants to go to Titan’s again, but I can’t make it a daily habit. He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m enjoying this thing we’re doing right now. Last thing I want is to push him away or smother him.
“Busy with what? Your internship goes until, what, five or six? And then half the time you don’t come home until late. What are you doing with all that extra time?”
Her clarity in his moment is shocking. Maybe she’s more aware of the goings-on than I give her credit for?
“Different things,” I lie. “Sometimes I run to the mall. Sometimes I give people rides home. Sometimes I go to a movie.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes, Mama. What’s wrong with that?”
“I-I guess I just hadn’t realized how much you were growing up.” Her hand slides off mine and she sits back in her chair, a wistful gleam in her chocolate eyes. “I still think of you as my clingy little girl sometimes. Afraid to leave my side.”
I haven’t been that clingy little girl in a long time. My mother’s concept of time has completely dissipated since Jerome died. Her days, weeks, and years all blur together.
“Did Titan like the things you gave him?” she asks.
Lewis lifts a silvery brow and peers over his glasses for a quick second. Sometimes I think he still cares about his son, he just won’t admit it.
“He did.” I keep my answer short and sweet for fear of saying too much.
“That’s good,” Mama says, reaching for her wine goblet. “You’re such a sweet girl, always taking care of everyone. Putting everyone else first. You’re going to make a wonderful wife and mother someday.”
“Whoa,” I laugh. “Where did that come from?”
Her body tilts my way. “In group therapy, we’ve been discussing moving forward this week. Focusing on the future. Finding things to look forward to.”
“Oh…”
“Jordy, I know you’re only twenty-two, but I can’t wait for you to find a nice man, settle down, raise a family. My future grandchildren will give me purpose again. I just know it. And Jerome’s spirit will live on through them.”
She slurs her last sentence, taking another sip. I’m not sure how much good this therapy is doing for her. Mama’s bad days still seem to outnumber the good.
“I’m not in a rush,” I say. “But yes, someday I’ll settle down.”
“Are you talking to anyone these days?” she asks, batting her eyes. Her lips twist and button. “Any nice, young men catching your eye?”
“In this town?” I respond a little too quickly, and I pray she doesn’t spot the tiny beads of sweat lining the top of my forehead. The dining room just grew ten degrees warmer. “Nope.”
I hate lying to my mother. Hate it.
But it’s a necessary evil, at least in this situation.
The last thing I need to be telling her right now is that I’m screwing her boyfriend’s ex-convict son.
“Thanks for dinner, Mama.” I rise from the table and carry my plate to the dishwasher before returning to give her a kiss on the top of her head. My hands rest on her shoulders, and they feel bonier than they used to. She’s withering away under those professor-grade, cable-knit cardigans she hides beneath. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me, okay?”
***
YOU STILL UP?
A text comes through on my phone just a hair past eleven. I shut off my eReader and squint against the bright light of my glaring cell screen.
Titan.
My stomach somersaults as much as I try to keep my excitement at bay.
I type a quick “yes” and hit send.
The phone is still for several minutes. Nothing incoming. The fact that Titan is sitting across town in his apartment, thinking of me, warms me more than it should.
I type another message, my impatience getting the best of me.
YOU NEED SOMETHING?
My phone rings a minute later.
“I hate texting,” he says after I answer. “Takes too fucking long. I don’t have time for that shit.”
I guess if you’re not used to it and haven’t done it in a long time, it might feel inefficient. It’s okay though. I’d rather hear his velvet voice anyway.
“What’s up?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the cheesy grin in my voice.
“Just weird that you didn’t come over tonight. Thought for sure you’d be knocking on my door at the usual time.”
“Are you saying you miss me, Titan?”
“Nope.”
“Right.”
“Just saying I’m a creature of habit. Was getting used to our little routine.”
I roll my eyes and sink back into my bed. “Whatever. You’re horny.”
“Always.”
“I’m not coming over,” I say. I’m comfortable. I’m in bed. Plus I don’t want to seem desperate.
“Didn’t ask you to.”
“Then why’d you call?”
He’s quiet, and my smile fades. I can’t deny the pull going on between us. There’s something there, though I haven’t a clue what it is, and I know neither of us will ever admit it. Talking about it will bring it to life. Acknowledging it will mess with this good thing we’ve got going.
“You lonely, Titan?” My tone is soft. “You can admit it if you are. I get lonely sometimes too.”
He laughs through the receiver. “What is this? Fucking pillow talk? Stop, Jordana.”
Serves me right.
He’s not the heart-to-heart type.
“Anyway.” He blows a loud sigh. He didn’t call me for any particular reason.
I’m pretty sure he just wanted to hear my voice…
Feel that connection…
And the funny part is, he probably doesn’t realize it either.
“Hang up, Titan.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
He ends the call, and I pop out of bed, tearing over to the leaning mirror in the corner of my room. Within seconds, I’m stripped bare, completely naked from head to toe. I grab my phone and strike a pose. Then another. Then another.
They’re strategic.
Tasteful.
Sexy.
My heart races, thundering against my chest. Cotton fills my mouth. I’ve never done anything remotely like this before. And I know it’s wrong. It’s idiotic. It’s one of those things that may come back to bite me in the end, but I have to do it.
I want to do it.
I step back into my clothes and take a deep breath, readying a message to Titan containing three revealing photos.
The second I hit send, I get the biggest rush. Heat invades my core as I think about the smile those pictures will put on his face. Knowing I turn him on
, turns me on. I miss him right now. His warmth. His weight. His hands exploring every inch of my willing and ready body.
My phone buzzes, and Titan’s reply fills my screen.
HOLY SHIT.
I reply with a winking emoji and tell him I’ll see him tomorrow.
Tugging an old t-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama shorts on, I climb back into bed wearing the satisfied smirk of a woman who, for the first time in forever, feels wanted.
Even if it’s just physical, there’s no denying it.
Jordana Perry is wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – TITAN
I knew this was going to be a bad idea.
I’m standing at the side of the makeshift ring, taping my hands and throwing shadow punches as my gaze scans the room.
Jordana is sitting in a metal folding chair about twenty feet away, sandwiched between two of the sketchiest sons of bitches I’ve ever seen. They’ve checked her out no less than five times since she arrived, and now the douche on the left has the nerve to introduce himself.
Her dark hair is tucked back into a baggy hoodie. Thank god her sex-on-fire body is hidden behind raggedy clothes, but her beautiful mug is still on full display.
This will be the last time I bring her.
“That her?” Kyle sneaks up on me from behind, his hand gripping my shoulder.
I nod.
“Fuckin’ A,” he says with a hungry smile. “You get to hit that every night? Good for you, man. Good for you.”
“Don’t talk about her,” I growl, throwing right jab.
“Look who’s territorial all of a sudden,” Kyle teases. “Thought she was just a piece of ass. She your girlfriend now? You give her a promise ring? Make it official?”
It’s none of Kyle’s damn business.
“You trying to throw me off my game?” I ask. “Because if you are, it’s working.”
“Shit, Titan. No one’s trying to throw you off your game, especially not me. If you lose this fight, I’m blaming her. It’s all going to fall on her.”
I could sock him across the mouth right now.
“She’s got nothing to do with anything.” I spit on the cement floor.
Across the room, a behemoth trots down the steps, two at a time. He’s easily half a foot taller than me and a solid fifty pounds bigger.
“You fucking kidding me?” I turn to Kyle, my rage on full display. “Talk about fucking stacked.”
“Put on a good show tonight,” he says. “You’ll be rewarded handsomely. More fights. Bigger fights.”
“What do you mean, put on a good show?”
“I want you to throw the fight,” he says, leaning in. “I want you to lose tonight.”
“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to lose.”
“I mean, give it your all. Act like you want to win. Try to win. But when the moment’s right, give him the victory. Let him knock you out.”
My hands hook my hips and I square my chest with his. “You said two grand tonight. Five hundred for fighting. I’m not walking away with less than two grand. I came here to win. I’m not throwing the fight.”
Kyle’s gaze darts from me, to Big Foot in the corner, to the small crowd filling the ring.
“Look,” he says. “Ain’t nobody going to want to watch you fight if all you do is win. People don’t want to pay money for that shit. They want to pay money to sit on the edge of the seat the whole time wondering if Titan fucking Blackstone is going to go home with a win or a not. You can’t be undefeated anymore. It ends tonight.”
My head is hot, my ears even hotter. I’m not walking out a loser, and I’m not walking out like some coward before the fight’s even begun.
I spin to look at Jordana, sitting in her chair. The guy on her left is staring at her, his lips moving a mile a minute, and she’s doing her best to ignore him.
Funny, since she doesn’t belong to me. Not technically anyway. But she acts like it.
“Look,” Kyle says, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me closer. His gaze lowers. “I’ll give you two grand out of my own pocket if you throw the fight tonight. But you have to put on a good show. This is entertainment at the end of the night. Remember that.”
My nostrils flare, and I summon every ounce of machismo I have before dousing it in ego.
“Fine. Fuck.” I throw another shadow punch and bounce light on my feet.
Kyle smiles.
***
The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. My lip burns. The left side of my cheek is numb. My breath escapes me as my vision comes back into focus. The sensation of cold, dirty concrete beneath my hands orients me to my position on the floor.
Dingy, gnarled feet belonging to my opponent reside in front of me, and when I glance up, I see the ref holding Big Foot’s arm in the air. The small crowd cheers.
Everyone except Jordana.
From where I lay, I see her rising from her seat, nibbling on her nails and resisting the urge to rush to my side.
Fuck.
I don’t want her pity. I don’t want her to baby me. I’m not broken. I just took some hits. I push myself back up, swaying from side to size as the room spins. Must’ve been a hard hit to the side of the head that did me in, but at least I can say I didn’t go down without a fight.
I fought hard, right to the very last round.
Kyle wanted a show. I gave them a fucking show.
Within seconds, Kyle’s fingers dig into my arm as he pulls me to a nearby chair and shoves a bottle of room temperature water in my hands. I guzzle it down in three gulps and toss the plastic bottle to the ground where it bounces off the hard concrete and rolls under my chair.
My vision comes and goes, blurring and focusing.
“You did good, Titan,” Kyle says with an award-winning smile on his face. He’s too pleased. “This is going to be a game changer for us.”
The overwhelming roar of the room swirls around my pounding head and makes me want to puke. All these assholes are cheering because I just got my ass handed to me. Makes me wonder if they all bet against me. Shit. I bet Kyle bet against me. Not sure how else he’d be able to pay me two grand to fix the fight.
I need to get out of here since I’m technically in a bar and Jordana’s technically in public with a paroled felon. It’s not worth the risk. I just want to get home and crash.
Jordana approaches me with ginger steps, her gray hood falling down her shoulders revealing a mess of dark ringlets. Even in the dimly lit basement of a bar, she’s a goddamn beauty queen.
She doesn’t belong in this world.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.” Her honeyed voice is a siren song. I follow her up the stairs and across the street to my apartment. My brain pulses and pounds. Gaps of time are missing every other minute. Next thing I know, I’m lying in my bed and Jordana’s cleaning my cuts.
I’ll never tell her this, but it feels good to have someone look after me. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.
I close my eyes for just a moment. I need to rest them. I need to catch my breath. Her sweet perfume fills my lungs and blankets me in the kind of comfort I haven’t embraced in forever.
“Don’t leave.”
The words are unfamiliar, until I realize they’re mine. I’m telling her to stay.
The words just came out without much forethought, and now that they’ve been said, there’s no taking them back. Can’t get mad at myself though. I’m not exactly in the right state of mine. Pretty sure my filter’s broken from taking one too many punches to the side of the head.
The bed shifts, and Jordana climbs beneath the covers, pressing the back of her body against mine before pulling my arm around her.
“I won’t,” she whispers.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - JORDANA
For a brief moment Saturday morning, I feel normal with Titan.
We’re seated at a quaint coffee shop down the street from his apartment, and aside from the fact that his face is a little bruised up, it�
��s a peaceful kind of morning. He’s wearing khakis and a polo. His hair is washed and combed. He smells like a fresh shower and shave.
We look like a couple.
And shit. We feel like one too.
“I didn’t think you’d lose last night,” I say, taking a sip of my caramel macchiato. “I thought you were undefeated?”
“It was fixed,” he grunts, glaring out the window. Even when he’s angry, he’s impossibly handsome. His jaw sets and shifts, and I imagine he’s grinding his teeth. “Kyle came at me last minute and told me to throw the fight. Money was going to be the same either way, so I did it.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Scandalous.”
I find it funny, though I’m not sure why. Guess corruption is everywhere, all the time, and at all levels.
“That sarcastic, Jordana?” His gaze snaps to me. He obviously doesn’t think it’s as funny as I do.
My jaw hangs. I don’t have a response, not one that he’d probably appreciate.
“Didn’t want to do it,” he says. “Didn’t have a choice.”
“I won’t pretend to understand the complex makings of an underground fighting ring.” I turn my cup, tracing my fingertip along the misspelled “Jordanna” written across the side in black Sharpie.
“Good.” His shoulders slump forward, and he wears the face of a man deep in thought. I get the impression he didn’t take throwing the fight too lightly.
“Maybe you’re not as rough and tumble as you think you are?” I tease, throwing him a wink for good measure.
“Why the hell would you say that?” His eyes darken.
I slink a shoulder up to my ear and stave off a smirk. “I saw some of your old scrapbooks. It was before you were released. Before I met you. I was curious about you I guess.”
My eyes fall to the table. His stare burns into me.
“You were a good kid, Titan. Good grades. Homecoming king. Track star.” I dare myself to meet his gaze again. His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes narrowed.
“So you want me to go back to that? To what you think I was?” he seethes. “I told you, Jordana. I’m different now. There’s no going back. I’m never going to be that guy. And I don’t fucking appreciate you digging up my past.”
