Never Choose Flight (A Fighter Romance Novel)

by Danielle Forte

  He was feeling it too. The same sensation felt from the other side. His breath was deep, and over time it became sharp and fast. I could tell that he was trying to resist. Trying to prevent the inevitable. But I was not going to stop. I was not going to slow down. It was going to happen, whether he wanted it to or not.

  But I knew that he wanted it. I could feel it in him. I could hear it in his moans.

  Near the end I actually picked up the pace a bit. I wanted more. More of the same. More of that amazing feeling that it gave me. And I got exactly what I wanted.

  And then he went over. I felt his final climax throbbing inside of me throughout my entire being. Every square inch of my skin became ultra-sensitive. I could feel the air. I could feel my socks. I could feel his breath on my exposed chest. And I could feel how incredibly relaxed every muscle in my body had suddenly become.

  I stayed there, on top of him, for a moment. I felt like I was in the perfect position. Like nothing would ever feel as amazing as this. Like my entire body had been submerged in a perfectly warmed bath. After hours with an amazing masseuse who knew my body perfectly. And just the right amount of wine.

  But it hadn’t taken any of that to get me there. All it took was an amazing evening with an amazing man. With my amazing man. Malcolm.

  * * *

  Eventually I got off of him, and he went to clean himself up. I cleaned myself as well, and then the pants went back on. We sat back down where we had been on the couch, and held each other close. It was nice. Just plain and pleasant.

  Eventually I broke the silence. “So what’s going to happen?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were both so worried about getting into this. Getting started with our relationship. And now it’s begun. You were worried about your fighting. I was worried about my safety. And I guess now we get to find out if any of our worries were worth worrying about.”

  “Yeah,” he said, holding me tightly. “I hope that nothing goes wrong. Honestly, I just wish I could stay here on this couch with you forever. I’ve really never done anything like that before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never been with a woman like you.”

  I looked at him. “My question still stands.”

  “You’re just so caring. That all felt so good. It’s like you knew exactly what I wanted the whole time. And you’re just so, so beautiful.”

  I blushed and looked away.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “You get that, right? How incredibly good looking you are?”

  I let out a bit of a laugh. “I think you might have the two of us confused.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m talking about you. Jessica. You are incredibly attractive.”

  “But what about…” I started. I had never really talked with anyone about it before. “But what about my extra weight?”

  “You don’t have any,” he said bluntly. “You have just the right amount of weight for you.”

  I was about to protest, but he carried on.

  “I’ll admit I’ve been with a lot of girls. Plenty who are like the ones you see in magazines. Skinny right down to their bones. You could count the ribs. And that’s not what I like at all.”

  I looked at him.

  “You’re a woman,” he explained. “And women have a shape to them. They’ve got breasts. They’ve got hips. And nice round bums. All of those things disappear on super skinny women. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - clearly lots of guys dig it. But I like women. And you, your body, your shape, it’s all the epitome of womanly. Every contour of your being fits the definition of woman perfectly.”

  I was smiling at this point. How could I not be?

  “So seriously. When I say you’re beautiful, I mean it. I’m not just saying it to boost your ego, or your self confidence or whatever. I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re a beautiful woman, Jessica. And I am amazed and surprised that you’d want to go out with a guy like me.”

  I laughed again.

  “What?”

  “A guy like you,” I said. “How could I not want to go out with someone like you?”

  “Well,” he started, but I didn’t let him continue.

  “If I’m a model woman, then you are without a doubt a model man. Strong. Every inch of your body is muscular. And they aren’t lame gym-muscles, or steroid-muscles. They’re muscles you got by doing manly things. I know that you could protect me if I ever need it. I know that you can carry me, and help me with anything I’m not capable of. And you dick is just the perfect size and shape for me.”

  He laughed. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. It was nice having it all laid out on the table like that.

  We chatted a bit more and then eventually moved to bed. Kissed a bit more and then eventually fell asleep. I set an alarm on my phone so that I would not be late for work.

  Chapter 8

  I drifted to sleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, and it felt like forever passed by before my alarm woke me up. I snuck out of bed, but before I was out of the room I saw that Malcolm was sitting up as well.

  “You don’t need to wake up yet,” I said. “You can sleep more if you’d like.”

  “I don’t need it,” he said.

  I hopped into the shower and decided that before the next time I slept over, I was going to buy a second set of my soaps and shampoos to bring to this house. One bar of soap really just didn’t cut it.

  The water ran hot over my body, making the whole thing shiny the next time I looked in the mirror. And for a second, I saw myself not from my own eyes, but from his. I saw exactly what he was talking about. The quintessential female form. Standing in the mirror, staring back at me. It felt good.

  I dried off and got dressed, and there was a good smell coming from the kitchen once again. I sat down and a plate landed in front of me - pan fried potato wedges, a boiled egg, and some toast with jam and cheese.

  I ate wildly, not scared of him seeing me enjoying the food. “Where on earth did you learn to cook like this?” I asked.

  “Military.”

  I looked up at him. “You were in the military?”

  “Yep,” he said. “Not deployed for long. But I learned how to make good meals out of the basics - eggs, potatoes, bread - among a few other things.”

  “Is that where you learned to… fight?”

  “The military is where I learned how strong I could be if I worked for it. But I learned a whole slew of other things that I wish I hadn’t, so I left.”

  “Can you just leave the military?”

  “Leave,” he said, “or be dishonorably discharged. I managed to get out before I went entirely insane.”

  “What was it?” I asked. “Why did you have to leave?”

  “They teach some fucked up shit in the bootcamps. Mainly just that it’s alright to kill people. That some people deserve to die. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but having that mentality for long enough will really ruin a person.”

  “Gee,” I said.

  “And after I killed a few I learned pretty quickly that I did not have that mentality. No matter how hard they’d worked to get it into me. It didn’t stick. I felt awful for every death I’d caused.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Then one day my squadron leader commanded me to storm a house. He told me to exterminate anyone living in there. He acted as though it was only the enemy, but I knew there were women and children in there as well. He told me I didn’t have a choice, so I proved him wrong. Threw a couple punches, he tried to fight back, and then I knocked him out cold. Gave him a good solid kick to the ribs before heading to the office and accepting my discharge.”

  “That sounds pretty rough,” I said.

  “Eh,” he said. “I guess so. I haven’t really been able to hold down a regular job since then. Don’t have the patience. But I also have managed to avoid killing anyone since I returned, so there’s that.”
>
  “Looking on the bright side,” I said.

  “Almost always,” he said.

  “So is that where your rule comes from?”

  “Which one?”

  “Never say no to a fight.”

  “No, I had that rule from way earlier in my life.”

  “Where does it come from?”

  “Childhood,” he explained. He was just being so incredibly open with me. I guess he figured that now I was his girlfriend, we might as well stop keeping any secrets. “My mom explained it to me. She said that when you get into a confrontation, of any kind, you always have two choices. Fight or flight.”

  I nodded.

  “She said it applied to everything. School: would I run away from the work, or fight for good grades. Would I try to escape from girls I liked, or would I fight to win them over. She said that when she got pregnant, that was a conflict for my dad. And he chose flight. He split before I was even born. Wasn’t strong enough to stick around and fight for me. Fight his bad habits and become a father.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “And so my mom taught me that rule. Not directly. She didn’t come up with it for me. But I hate my dad, and I do not want to end up anything like him. And so I never choose flight. For me, it’s fight every single time.”

  I let that sink in for a minute, and then I realized I was late. “Shit,” I said, “I’ve got to go.”

  “Yes you do,” he said.

  “I don’t have a lunch.”

  “I’ll stop by,” he said. “We can get something together again.”

  “That sounds amazing,” I said, walking towards the door.

  I pulled it open, gave Malcolm a kiss goodbye, and then I was on my way to work. It wasn’t until I was almost there that I remembered what had happened last time I’d been at work. Derek had gotten his nose broken.

  * * *

  I walked in five minutes late, and Samantha had a bit of a worried look on her face. But when she saw me she perked right back up. “Good morning,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  “How’s Jessica today?” she asked.

  “Jessica is pretty good,” I lied. Jessica was feeling amazing. “What’s up with you?”

  “I am a wee bit worried,” she said.

  “What about?”

  “Derek,” she said.

  My head spun to look at him, but he wasn’t there.

  “He’s not here yet,” she said.

  “He always gets here before me,” I said.

  “He usually gets here before me too,” she said, “and I get here way too early.”

  We both looked at the desk with no Derek behind it. “What do you think happened?” I asked.

  “No idea,” she said. “Maybe he’s sick?”

  “How often does he have sick days?”

  “Never,” she said. “Maybe he’s got a bad case of a broken heart.”

  “A shattered ego,” I said.

  “Or just a shattered face,” she said. She turned back to face me. “That man you’ve found can sure throw a punch.”

  “You should see him when he’s trying,” I said.

  “Can I?” she asked.

  I paused. “You probably shouldn’t. It’s not the safest stuff to be around.”

  She shook her head. “Jessica. Going to things too dangerous for someone like me. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Trust me,” I said, “neither did I.”

  We laughed.

  “Seriously though,” I said, “do you think I can get in shit for what happened to Derek?”

  “You?” she said. “Probably not. I mean, you weren’t even really part of it.”

  “But Malcolm?” I asked.

  “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. I’m sure the security tapes show that Derek had a knife, so it was just self defense. But I don’t know if there are microphones in here or anything. Or how exactly the fight was organized. I think that matters a lot too - if one person is egging the other on than the whole thing can be ruled as that person’s fault.”

  I tried to remember the whole conversation, but it was all a bit blurry. Much more important things had happened to me since then.

  “I’m sure you’re fine though,” she said. “And I’d bet that Derek won’t want to press charges or anything. He’s not that kind of guy. He has way too much misplaced pride. The worst that could happen, I think, is that he challenges Malcolm to another fight.”

  “Ha,” I said. “I don’t think that will happen. Derek learned his lesson. I mean, he didn’t stand a chance. Malcolm was just joking around and still managed to disarm him and break his nose. Derek might be annoying and awkward, but he’s not that much of an idiot.”

  Suddenly a look came on to Samantha’s face of panic and laughed. “Yeah, so I just watched a movie,” she said, and then her eyes darted to behind me. “Oh hey Derek!”

  Derek mumbled something and then carried onto his desk. “Talk to you later,” I said to Samantha, and then took my place across from Derek.

  He looked terrible. There was a large, white bandage on his nose. Something to keep everything in place. Beneath each nostril the skin had been dyed red - I guess from all the blood that had run over it. And then around each eye was a large, dark, bruise. Two black eyes, just like Malcolm had predicted.

  Normally I never start the conversation when I’m with Derek. Of course, normally Derek starts one so quickly that I hardly have a change. But not today. Today he just sat down in silence and got to work. Didn’t even give me a second glance.

  “How’s it going?” I asked, quietly.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Thank you for asking.”

  “I’m doing alright as well,” I said, not wanting to brag about how great my evening had been. “Sorry about what happened with Malcolm yesterday.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “It was dumb of me to try and fight him.”

  I actually kind of felt bad. Derek had gone from so high to so low, so quickly. Like one day he was an emperor, and the next he was a peasant child.

  “Samantha has your knife,” I said.

  “Cool.”

  “I’m sure she’ll give it back to you if you ask nicely,” I said.

  “But what’s the point?” he asked, looking up at me. Staring at me with his broken face. “Apparently I can’t use it anyway. And the one person who I try to impress has found someone else.”

  “There are lots of other people who are worth impressing,” I said. “Seriously.”

  “Sure,” he said. “And I bet I’ll meet lots of them at a job like this. Sitting across from the same woman all day every day.”

  I gave up. There was no way I was going to be able to cheer him up. Clearly he just didn’t want it to happen. I got to work. Got to my emails. Tried to forget about Derek sitting there moping. But then he spoke to me. “Is is because I’m ugly?”

  “Aw,” I said. “No. Of course not. You aren’t ugly, Derek.”

  “Of course you say that now.”

  “I mean, you’ll look a lot better once the bruising goes away, but you’re a handsome guy. You just aren’t my type.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “I know that somewhere out there is a girl who’s perfect for you. And one day you will meet her. And you will be very happy for a long time.”

  “And you’re that girl to Malcolm, you think?”

  “I think I am,” I said.

  “I’m happy for you.”

  Then he turned his head back to his work, and I got back to mine as well. It felt like the end of an era, having a conversation with Derek where I did most of the talking and he didn’t try to hit on me at all. It felt good.

  I actually got some work done. I didn’t mind it so much this time. I was just working like I had before. Making sales. Getting it done. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I knew that I had the man who I wanted. I knew that I had an interesting life that was going to start happening after work. And that was enou
gh. I didn’t even need a cup of coffee every half hour.

  At one o’clock, Malcolm showed up. Walked right over to my desk and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Not bad, I’ve just gotta finish up this email.”

  “Sure,” he said. Then he looked over at Derek. “Sorry about your nose, guy. But you really were trying to stab me.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m not going to press charges or anything.”

  “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” said Malcolm, “and assume that you’re doing that out of the kindness of your heart, and not because you have no case.”

  Derek let out a bit of a laugh. I had not heard him laugh many times. Maybe he’d actually changed a bit after the fight.

  I typed out the rest of my email, hit send, and then stood up.

  “Where do you want to go today?” asked Malcolm.

  “Joe’s?” I said.

  “Same as last time?”

  “Why not?”

  And so we went down the stairs, out of the building, and down the sidewalk holding hands. Into Joe’s we went, and we ordered the same things we’d ordered last time. The man behind the counter smiled, and we sat where we’d sat last time.

  It felt like a pleasant routine already. We were already slipping back into a rut, but not it was a rut together - not separate ruts. It felt nice.

  “So,” he asked, “is there any point in me asking you how work is every day, or is it basically always the same?”

  “It doesn’t change much,” I admitted. “What about you? What’ve you done today?”

  “Went to the gym for a while,” he said.

  “Cool,” I said. I didn’t go to the gym much, so I didn’t really have a follow up.

  We sipped our drinks and ate our food.

  “Thought about you for most of the workout,” he said.

  I smiled and blushed a bit. “Aw. What about me?”