by Aly Martinez
It’s an asshole move, but I just wanted to get to know her a little better before screwing it all to Hell and back. She seems like a quiet, low-key girl who isn’t going to want to be thrown into the spotlight that unfortunately is my life. But the fact of the matter is that I can only stay here in Ohio as Adam Andrews for so long.
I’ve been trying to work out as much as possible to buy myself a few more weeks before I have to go home and get back on my training schedule. I could hang around here for a bit longer if I found a way to keep on track. Maybe see if there is a boxing gym nearby that would allow me to come in at night. It’s not ideal, but it might buy me just a little more time with her. I could sleep during the days while Riley is at work, spend my nights with her, and train while she’s sleeping.
I bought all new bedding the very next day after we were together in hopes that she would spend the night. But around midnight every single night, she kisses me at the door and goes back to her apartment. I hate it, but I can probably make it work for a while longer.
At six p.m. sharp, Riley and her brown contacts are knocking at my door.
"It’s open!" I shout from the kitchen.
"What if I were an ax murderer?" she asks the minute she walks inside.
I drop the knife on the counter and head over to wrap her in my arms. "Well then, I guess I’d have to fight the ax from your hands before kissing you." I lean forward to press a gentle kiss to her mouth. "Hey."
"Hey," she responds as her cheeks heat to pink.
"How was work?" I ask, still holding her.
Her hands trace up my forearms and under the sleeves of my T-shirt to my biceps. "I hate my job."
"Well okay then." I laugh.
"I would rather be unemployed than spend another day in that file room. But a girl’s gotta eat, right?" She shrugs and moves out of my arms. "Whatcha cooking?"
"Lasagna."
She breathes in deeply, sniffing the aromas. "Homemade?" she questions with shock.
"Yep."
"Wow. All because I showed you my boobs last night?"
"No. Well, kind of no. It’s one of the few things I know how to cook. But the boobs definitely didn’t hurt."
She leans up on her toes to kiss me again. It’s a sweet kiss, but nonetheless heated. And when I move to deepen it, she immediately opens and strokes her tongue against mine. It’s a dance we have mastered, and while we still haven’t had sex or really done anything below the waist, these moments are more than enough.
I can tell that Riley wants more, but she’s pretty freaked out any time I try to take it further. The mixture of fear and longing in her eyes doesn’t sit well with me. It worries the hell out of me when I try to figure out what she could possibly be afraid of when she so obviously wants to be with me. However, besides those few moments in bed before I decided to stop trying to push her, I haven’t seen Riley scared at all. She doesn’t flinch from me anymore, even when I make sudden movements. It might have only been a week now, but I would say, given how we started, Riley and I have made great strides toward achieving something normal.
"Holy shit, Adam. That lasagna was amazing," she says, curling up on the couch after dinner.
"Better than my shrimp?" I ask, sitting down next to her and pulling her into my side.
"You burnt the shrimp. So I’m going to have to say yes."
"I did not burn them! They were blackened. It’s a real, honest-to-God flavor."
"Right. Whatever you need to tell yourself." She begins to giggle as I drag her across my lap, tickling her. "Stop! That’s not fair! You’re bigger than I am" she squeals, trying to break out of my arms.
"What’s wrong, Riley? Not so fond of my body anymore?"
"I didn’t say all that." She continues to laugh but finally relaxes, lying down with her head on my lap.
I look down at her, wishing her blue eyes were staring back up at me. "Let me buy you clear contacts."
"What? No way. Adam, I told you. The kind I need are expensive. I’ll be fine with the brown ones until I run out." She awkwardly looks away, once again making me feel like she's hiding something.
"I can afford them. Just give me your prescription and I’ll order them tomorrow."
"No. I can’t let you do that. Trust me, they are fine. Besides, I actually like the brown."
"No, you don’t. There is no way in the world someone who has eyes like yours would want to turn them brown. Same thing with your hair. I know you’re a blonde, Riley."
She bolts straight up out of my lap. "Shut up, Adam. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, you’re an unemployed boxer. I’m sitting in your apartment, remember? Buy new pots and pans before worrying about my contacts," she says with a bitchy tone I’ve never heard her use before.
"If I had the money, would you let me buy them for you?" I snap back at her.
"Nope." She crosses her arms and leans away from me.
I let out a sigh and rub my eyes. "Why do I always feel like you’re using those fucking contacts to hide from me?" Her eyes go wide with surprise before she turns away completely. "See? Just like that."
"What is your obsession with my eyes?" she mumbles.
"They’re beautiful! And more than that, they are you. I already feel there is a lot I don’t know about you. At least show me something real."
"There’s a lot I don’t know about you either, you know," she snaps. Then she sucks in a deep breath and her frustration begins to fade. "We’re just getting to know each other. We’ll figure it all out over time." She offers me a weak smile before crawling back across the couch and into my lap. She peppers kisses over my face and down my neck. "We’ll get to know each other eventually."
"Jesus." I give her a half smile, knowing that there has never been a more perfect moment to tell her the truth. Shit. This is going to suck. "What’s your middle name, Riley?" I ask then lean in for a deep kiss.
"Um, Jean," she stutters out when I pull away.
"Was that a hard question?" I tease, but she stills.
"No. I just… I mean, I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all."
"Well, Riley Jean, my middle name is Adam."
"Really? What’s your first name?" she asks.
I lean in for one last kiss, giving it everything I’ve got and praying it’s not the last. "Slate."
"Oh, well, I can definitely see why you go by Adam," she says with a shrug that makes me laugh and my chest ache.
"Actually, no one calls me Adam but you. My name is Slate Andrews, and I’m not an amateur boxer down on his luck. I’m actually a very successful professional boxer."
"What?" She leans away in disbelief. "What do you mean very successful?" she asks as her face pales.
"I mean, I’m currently the heavyweight champion of the world. For two straight years now."
"Yeah, right. Are you messing with me?" The color slightly returns to her face as her lips tilt in a small smile. But it all disappears when I shake my head. "Why the hell are you living here then if you’re some big-time fighter?"
"I grew up in this apartment. A few years ago, I bought it so I could escape the celebrity lifestyle in LA. I’m not built for that kind of life. I just needed somewhere to hide after fights."
"You’re a celebrity?" she breathes as tears spring to her eyes.
"I’m not Tom Cruise, but I have a certain following."
"Oh my God. I’m going to be sick." She jumps from my lap and runs to the bathroom.
"Wait a second." I stand and race after her, but she slams the door in my face. "Talk to me. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I swear."
"You lied to me," she chokes out, crying.
"I didn’t lie. We were just getting to know each other. That lifestyle makes things complicated. When I first told you my name, I had no idea we would end up here. I thought you recognized me, and I didn’t want my cover blown."
"Yeah, we wouldn’t want your cover blown. Where the worst thing that happens is your adoring fans shower you with love
. We definitely wouldn’t want that cover blown," she bites out sarcastically, but her voice cracks at the end.
"It’s not like that. The paparazzi follow me, and I never have a minute to just breathe and be myself. I’m always looking over my shoulder," I try to explain.
She snatches open the door and stares at me with tear-stained cheeks. "Now that, I understand." She bumps into me, forcing me to step out of her way. "I have to go."
"Riley, wait. This is not something to freak out about."
"Adam—fuck…I mean, Slate. What the hell do I even call you? You have no idea how big of a deal this really is."
"Why? Tell me why this is such a huge deal. This is my job. I can’t change it. Trust me, I hate the lifestyle."
"Well, you know what? Right this fucking second, I think I hate it more. I can’t live like that, Adam. Like, literally. I can’t live." She laughs without humor while shaking her head. "It’s funny the way the world works. The one person I’m magically not scared of is probably the most terrifying of them all."
"What the hell does that mean? Stop talking in fucking code and let me in on your hang-up. Yeah, it’s a hard life, but you haven’t given me one fucking reason why you are freaking out right now. Stop hiding and tell me what the hell is going on with you!" I yell in a way I swore to myself I would never speak to her. But I have a terrible feeling about where she is going with this.
"This…whatever this is…is done. Stay away from me," she says, walking out the door. Luckily for me, I know exactly where she lives.
"Tell me what you are afraid of. Tell me why my occupation has you on the run. I can keep you out of it."
"We can’t take that risk," she calls over her shoulder.
"Why do I feel like I’m missing a puzzle piece here? Because nothing about this makes sense. I can protect you from your ex-boyfriend if that’s who you are worried about!"
She comes to a complete halt and turns around to face me. "My ex-boyfriend?" she questions with an expression I can’t quite figure out. But she stops moving away.
"You don’t have to hide from him, Riley." I take a step forward and push a hand into her hair to tilt her head back. "Look, you’re right. This is all new. We are just getting to know each other, and who the hell knows if it will work out. But I will swear on my life that I will make you safe. Whether this works out or not, I will never let anyone hurt you again."
She closes her eyes and her chin begins to quiver. "You have no idea how much I wish I could believe you," she says with a sob and drops her forehead to my chest.
"I swear to you. I’ll get you a good attorney, a restraining order, and a security detail—whatever you need. I want to be with you, but more than that, I want to see you live without fear."
She sucks in a long breath and shakes her head against my chest. "You’re a good man, Slate Andrews."
Sliding her arms up my chest, she wraps them around my neck. The tears steadily fall from her eyes as she stands on her tiptoes and pulls me down for an agonizing kiss. It begins slow and gentle, but it doesn’t take long before it becomes wild. I push her up against the brick just beside her front door. Her hands trace over my body and back up and over my shoulders. I hold her tight against me and she clings to my back, digging in her fingernails in the most positively arousing way possible.
"I’ll fix that part for you. Then we can figure the us part out together," I say, trying to reassure her again.
Suddenly, she steps out of my arms and rubs the heels of her palms over her eyes. "I can’t even begin to tell you how much I wish we could make that happen. It’s just not possible. Goodbye, Adam." Before I even have a chance to react to her words, she opens her door and slides inside, locking it behind her.
"Don’t do this. Don’t let this go because of who I am!" I shout at the closed door.
"I’m not. I’m letting it go because of who I am," she says in a voice so broken that it physically hurts to hear it.
"Damn it! Just talk to me, Riley," I plead, but she never responds.
I wait for at least fifteen minutes, but I never hear another word from her. I try to figure what the hell just happened. I knew she was going to be upset that I hadn’t told her about my life sooner, but her cryptic little messages about why we can’t be together worry me the most. Finally, the cold forces me back to my apartment. But I leave knowing that I’ll be back. This is not a fight I’m willing to lose.
"Did you know?" I ask, storming into Dave’s room. He’s asleep, but after the night I’ve had, he’s going to have to wake the fuck up. "Did you fucking know?" I scream at the top of my lungs as he flies out of bed.
"Know what? Jesus, are you all right?" he asks, trying to scrub the sleep from his eyes.
"That I was dating a God damn celebrity!" I yell again, but it catches in my throat.
"Fuck." He sighs.
"Oh, God! You knew." The threatening tears spill over my eyes.
"Yeah, I knew," he admits.
"Wonderful. You encouraged me to put our lives at risk. Both of us could be exposed at any minute and you encouraged me to do it. What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I was thinking he made you smile and you weren’t afraid of it. You acted like a woman instead of a piece of glass so shattered it would never be able to be pieced back together. So yeah, I took a chance and pushed you towards him. I have watched you smile more over the last week than I have seen in the three years we have been forced together. You acted like a normal person for seven full days, and it was the best moments of my entire fucking life to watch you do it."
"That’s bullshit. This is not fucking fair! You shouldn’t have kept something that big from me. All it would take is one fucking picture and we would both be dead." I stomp my foot in frustration. "When the hell do I get to make some decisions about my own life? You don’t always get to decide what’s best for me, damn it!"
"Well, you need someone to do it!" he growls, sitting back down on the corner of his bed. "You’re doing a shit job at managing all of this. I’ve been stressing since we got word of this move about what to do with you. You’ve regressed back to those first few months after the trial. Then, all of a sudden, Slate fucking Andrews walked into your life and something changed. It’s like you came alive in a way I have never seen before. So yeah, I pushed you towards him. I also stayed close and had the big boys send in a detail to keep an eye on things while you were with him. You know I would have pulled you out if I thought you were in any danger whatsoever."
"You asshole! That isn’t your call! You threw me into an impossible situation. You know better than anyone that he is not a chance we can afford to take. Say what you want. Your heart may have been in the right place, but you put us both in danger. We can’t trust a man like that!"
"Slate Andrews is the only man I would have ever trusted you with. He’s the God damn patron saint of abused women." He lets out a string of curse words and runs a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry, Riley, but you needed someone."
"What?" I ask, completely confused.
"You can’t do this all alone."
"No! I mean the abused part."
"Look him up, babe. He spends millions of dollars every year advocating for women. He privately funds three rehabilitation programs and a safe house for women who have been victimized by physical or sexual abuse. Riley, Slate himself is the product of a rape."
"No," I gasp, throwing my hands to my mouth.
I think back on when he told me I reminded him of his mother, and it makes my stomach turn at how right he really was. I can’t even imagine how it would have felt to relive my past every day in the eyes of an innocent child. And for him to know that about how he was created makes my heart break for him too. I can only imagine how he grew up feeling.
For the briefest of moments, I find a feeling of hope swelling in my chest. Maybe he really could understand bits and pieces of my life if I were allowed to open up to him. But then again, that can never happen.
"Shut up. I don’
t want to hear this."
But Dave continues. "So yeah, I threw you at him. And he took to you—hook, line, and sinker. And before your mind goes there, that had nothing to do with your past, because he has no fucking idea about what happened to you."
"Shut up!" I scream. "Shut up. I don’t want to hear any of it. I don’t care who he is. The only thing that matters is I can’t be with him...ever." I sway as anger wages war with the longing I have for Adam.
"I love you," Dave says for the first time—ever. It startles me, and I jerk my eyes up to his. "Riley, I need you to be happy more that I need blood in my veins. I need redemption. I saw the way you looked at him and…" He drops his head into his hands.
My anger is quickly replaced by sadness. Dave may not have the physical scars I do, but I’m not the only one of us who was shredded by that night. He’s given his life up too. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember that.
"I love you too. Thank you for looking out for me, but from here on out, I relieve you of your duty. You can’t live my life and you sure as hell can’t force me into the arms of a man just because you deem him worthy. I should get a say in this. As much as I like Adam-slash-Slate, I wish I could go back to before I met him."
He smirks over at me before announcing, "I will continue to set you up with as many good guys as I can find. The good news for you is they are few and far between. Slate was kind of the jackpot. It’s all downhill from here."
He’s right. Slate really was the jackpot.
"I felt safe with him," I admit not only to Dave, but to myself as well.
"I know, babe. And for what it’s worth, I think we could make things work. It’s completely a risk, but you say the word and we’ll figure a way for you two to be together."
"That’s a terrible idea," I say, sitting on the bed beside him.
"I know. It really is." He gives me a sad grin.
"Promise me you’ll let me handle this from here on out. You want to see me get better? Then let me control at least this part of my life. It’s not like I can control anything else."
