“I didn’t know that about him.” Alice pretended to sound mildly interested as to not give away her wanting more information.
“Yeah, well, there’s a shit-ton you don’t know, little girl. He fights to keep his grandma out of the shelters. She depends on him. It’s a shame to think that he’s going to blow it because he cannot concentrate.”
“But, it’s just one fight…”
“Jesus! How fucking stupid are you?” He wasn’t even attempting to hold in his disgust anymore. “Monday is a title fight. If he wins this, these sponsors are locked for good. If he wins, he could move on to the next level. And if he loses, well, there won’t be much more MMA left for him.”
“Is he really that distracted?” Alice had no way to gage if this man was lying to her or if what she saw was just part of the coach and athlete struggle. If it was, she truly felt for Micah for dealing with this man for so long. And if he was sincerely distracted, she knew that she was to blame.
Dean saw the wheels turning in her head and softened a bit. He knew he had to get through to her, and blunt force wasn’t working. Changing tactics, he explained, “I’ve never seen him like this. He can’t throw a combo. He can’t nail a kick. His takedowns and mounts are so beneath him. His head isn’t in the game. And he’s going to lose it all for everyone that counts on him.” Dean turned to face Alice. Her dewy skin had become flushed, as her eyes darted to and from the door to the ring. Her hands rang.
In her head, she could see her and Micah back in that ring, fighting for and against one another. She could taste his skin in her mouth and feel the way that he brought her in for comfort and warmth. But now, it was tarnished, tainted by the idea that this life was his only life. And her being a part of it was going to take away all that he had worked for.
Dean knew his job was done. “Anyways, take care of yourself…”
“Alice. I’m Alice.” She whispered, still lost in her own thoughts.
“Alice. Right. It’s…uh…it’s been…something.” He stood slowly from the bench and turned towards the gym offices, shutting the door quietly behind him. From the glass windows, he watched as Alice quietly moved to the exit door, her head lowered and her body looking like it had gone the three rounds in the ring as well.
Micah was outside, sitting in the grassy area near the parking lot. She sat next to him and leaned her head onto his shoulder. Neither of them wanted to speak of what had just happened and the change they both realized had to be made. Instead, the two soaked in their moment, hoping to hold on to the remainder of what they had.
Chapter 10: The Mantle
“Do you know what you are doing? I mean, really? Because I can help you. I’m pretty good at this sort of thing.” Alice peaked her head into the smoky kitchen, unsure of what she would find.
“Are you going to trust me or what?” Micah held up a metal spatula, pointing it at Alice. She took another step further in, curious to see what he was attempting to prepare. He ran towards her, swiping her butt with the flat end. “Get out! Get out!”
Alice went back to the plush leather couch of his living room. His entire home was decked out in dark colors and leather accents. Even his throw pillows were ruby reds and blacks. But despite the bleak atmosphere, she would give Micah this: he had great taste. Expensive, to be more specific. Every bit of his place would put her dingy old apartment to shame. Even the carpet felt more akin to clouds, and his kitchen alone engulfed half of the condo itself.
Pictures lined his mantle place. Most of them were him in the ring or surrounded by his staff or of him standing in a ring with his arm raised in victory. However, at the very end of the row, stood a small, black frame with a picture of an older woman. Her hair was gray and thin, but her skin was still fresh and tan, just like Micah’s.
Alice’s mind raced as she remember Dean’s warnings about Micah’s situation. Was this the grandmother he was helping out? Was she sacrificing this woman’s happiness and wellbeing just for a fling? She placed the picture frame back in its place, delicately, as if not to disturb the order.
Micah watched from the doorway, as he held two red plates worth of dinner, “My grandma. I need a better picture of her. That one was taken a couple years ago.”
A startled Alice turned, attempting to brush the bewildered expression off of her face. Instead, she swept her mouth into a smile and changed the subject quickly. “What did you make me?”
She followed him into his dining room, as he placed the plates on the gold table cloth between the centerpiece of white, long-stemmed candles. As the two ate, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you doing all this for me?”
She was sincere. No man she had ever known had put this much time, thought, or effort into being with her.
He reached across the table and grabbed her hand with a bit of force, as he squeezed her palm against his. “Because I want you.”
“You want me?”
“Yes. I want you. Here. With me.” He put his arm around her. “I don’t know what it is about you. I don’t know why I should even be attracted to you and interested in making this more than what it was last night, but I want to do this for you.”
In the two weeks of knowing her, she had become this fixture in his life; this promise of perfection. His life wasn’t just about what happened inside the ring or at the gym. Instead, it was about the tiny pieces she made up. She was a puzzle, and he wanted to fit himself in. He wanted to learn more, explore more, and be more than he could have ever been before. He was ready.
She remained still in her chair, looking down at the remains of her dinner. His words rang through her, yet she still couldn’t fight what was in her head. She took a sip of her white wine, washing the taste from her mouth. When she dared to look up, he was at her side, kneeling. He spun her chair around to face him. Taking her hands, he placed them to his face, allowing her to feel the grooves and edges. The bandage from the last match was still there as she placed her hands gently to the sides of his face. She wanted no more damage to be done.
Micah edged his body forward, leaning into her. Powerful and imposing, he took what was his, as he kissed her head, her ears, and her lips. Her hands smoothed out the muscles in his neck, as the sensation once again took ahold of her. Without a thought, she bit down on his lip and gently sucked.
His strong arms tucked around her waist as he stood. He carried her to his bedroom, her legs straddled against his hips, locking fiercely with his back. He tossed her effortlessly into the silk black sheets. She squirmed, moving herself forward towards the top of the bed, but he pulled her legs back towards him, his eyes flaming with cherry and cedar embers.
His hands once again grabbed her hips forcefully, as he unbuckled her jeans. She lay there, powerless to what he was about to do, but eager to see what he could. His lips edged their way up her naked calves and thighs, stopping to gently tickle the curve of her knees. Further and further he went, following the map and the lines of her body.
As he hit the top of the fabric of her ivory colored panties, he knelt before her, as she could see a tiny bit of his shaven head peeking at the top of her stomach. He growled as he removed them and then continued tracing her peaks and valleys with his lips. As his lips parted her own, she gasped, feeling his wet, hot air linger inside her. His tongue forced its way inside hitting the soft, tender spot hidden deep within her caverns.
He was unrelenting as she cried out. He could feel every inch of her quiver and shift, as she only went further, longer, and faster. As she built up, arching her hip higher into his mouth and face, he used his fingers to massage and caress, a sweet contrast from his unforgiving kisses.
With one sudden burst, he felt it happening. Every inch of her lit fire, her hands grasping at his head and then falling to the side dramatically. Her entire body slumped back down onto the sheets. Where he rest his head, he could feel her pulse slowly ease back downward with her descent. She was wordless, and his work was done.
He slowly eased himself up to th
e top of the bed towards her, her hair matted from pushing against the covers. He kissed her gently, as she could taste the juices of her own body mixed with his own. She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she thanked him, kissing his cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath still.
He laughed, almost surprised at the polite gesture. He hooked his hand into her own, and rested on her chest as she fell into a deep sleep.
A man is holding me down, straddling my body. He is reaching towards me, gripping and grasping at what is not his. His breath makes little pools of air clouds before my face. I am moving my body, struggling to push him off. But he’s too strong. He’s too strong. He has it. He has what is mine.
I can see his face. I can see every bit of it staring at me, looking down at me with contempt. Does he smile? I don’t remember. But he looks me into the eye as if he to say, “This is your fault.” And before I can make another attack. He is gone. And I am here, laying in this puddle, broken.
Alice woke up in a panic. Gasping for air, she sat up and pulled her hair into a makeshift ponytail with her fingers. Micah’s room was dark, too dark. Wasn’t it only about 9 p.m. when she was last awake?
She heard the man next to her breathing softly into the downy pillow next to her. From her position, he almost looks vulnerable, like she could kill him at any second without warning. But instead of disturbing him, she squirmed quietly out of bed and grabbed her jeans and panties from the floor. Navigating the condo’s hallways, she grabbed her purse off of the couch and opened the doors out to the exit.
The streets of Micah’s neighborhood were empty, nearly deserted. Yet a cab was still circling the intersection. She hailed it and gave the driver directions back to her place. She watched Micah’s apartment as they passed the doorway. From the darkened windows, she could tell that she had made her escape successfully.
Looking at her phone’s watch, it only read 1 a.m. Micah would be awake in a couple hours to head back out to the gym. When he does, he will certainly notice her absence, but he will not know why. He will not understand why she would leave him in the middle of the night without a warning. And he would not understand why she wouldn’t pick up her phone or answer her door.
Instead, it would be Alice who would carry the weight of her sacrifice. She opened her phone’s contacts, finding his name in the list of M’s. “Goodbye Micah.” His name disappeared in a split second, erasing her chance of ruining what meant most for him: his career.
Chapter 11: Running Towards
“He’s here again,” Caroline said, more annoyed than riveted. It had been the fifth time in the last week Micah had pounded on their door, shouting for Alice. “Do you want me to do anything about it?”
Alice was busy painting, finishing the piece of work she had started last week. She ducked her head to the side to face Caroline and shook her head, “no.” The two went back to their business. Caroline continued to get ready for her shift while Alice played Picasso. The pounding was just another part of their daily scene.
Micah stormed away once again from the hunk of wood standing in his way. He knew he could easily tear it down and walk straight into Alice’s room. But he refrained. Something was up, and he knew it. The way that she had departed him, how she failed to show up to his title match, how she avoided his attempts to see her at work… everything about it was so sudden and abrupt.
As he stood outside of his car, he glanced up once again at her bedroom window, hoping for something, anything from her direction. After a long beat, there was still nothing but silence. He instead got into his car, racing away from the scene. His mind raced with his next plan of action.
Back in the apartment, Alice put down her brushes and curled up into her bed. It had been the longest week of her life. From her distance, she had watched as Micah struggled to grasp what had happened between the two of them. She had to justify to Caroline that it was over and that it wasn’t more than just a fling gone bad. And she had to face Pete and let him treat her like a personal punching man at work as punishment for her rebukes.
What she was going through was something she would have to face alone. She knew that. This was her choice to let Micah go and let him blossom as the fighter to protect the ones that he loved. And from the looks of it, from what she could decipher from the news and MMA chat rooms, she knew she had made the right choice in regards to his career.
After Monday’s second knockout win at the title match, reporters and sponsors had begun to chase him down, hounding him with much perseverance. Coach Dean was practically salivating after the Monday match as he thrust the paperwork into Micah’s face. He used the words dream and made it over and over again as if they would break through the beaten man before him.
Micah had dreamed that this day would come when he would be fielding offers from huge city sponsors and match organizers. Yet, despite his phone always ringing and cameras constantly flashing, he failed to see anything but the gaping hole Alice had left in his world. Even the crowds of women who suddenly fought their way through his staff to get to him felt colder. None were Alice.
Even finding solace at the gym had become impossible. His triumphs had made him more of a celebrity than ever with children surrounding him for autographs and other MMA fighters attempting to gain his favor. He kept his head down and instead focused on the tasks before him. He was a machine as he ticked off his training list one by one. Run, jump, spar, run, jump, spar. It was on repeat three times a day, every single day.
Dean’s shouts had become less and less. He spent more of his time instructing photographers where to stand to get the best shots and angling potential sponsors for logo placement ideas. The times he did interject, it was to tell Micah what he was doing right. He was playing the part of good cop, the fuzzy warm and inspirational coach. And Micah could see right through it.
Today’s last photographer flashed his bulbs of the night, taking a picture of Dean draping his short arm around Micah like a proud father as he stood in the center of the ring.
“What are you doing, Dean?” Micah whispered as his frustration and suspicions built.
Dean looked up at him, his arm still draped over his shoulder. “What do you think I am doing? I’m making you famous. Now that you’re back to normal, you’re gonna be a superstar.” He patted him on his back, as he walked away towards his office.
The words back to normal rang in Micah’s head. How could he be normal now when every part of him was somewhere else, somewhere in Alice’s bedroom begging her to return? The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
Micah followed the man, jumping out of the ring to catch up. He kicked open the coach’s door, not caring who would see or notice. Micah’s voice shot through the small cinderblock space, “I don’t want it Dean. I don’t want all of this fake bullshit.”
“Yeah, you do. This is part of the game, Micah.” Dean sat back in his leather reclining desk chair, studying the boy he practically raised in the ring. “There’s sacrifices we all have to make.”
“You mean like Alice! What the fuck did you do to her?” Micah grabbed the man by the collar, raising him to his feet. Dean stepped back, distancing himself from the clear danger in front of him.
Dean responded defensively, “I didn’t do anything to her. I told her the truth. I told her that she was a distraction and that you were risking your career focusing on her instead of the matches. And I was right, wasn’t I?”
Micah began to walk the distance of the office, shocked at this man’s ability to put the match before anyone’s happiness. Dean returned to his desk, sitting back at the chair, facing away from the steaming Micah.
“She was just some random piece of tail,” Dean said, irritated. “There’ll be others. Why get so wrapped up in that little cu—” Dean’s obscenity was cut-off as he had only a second to glance at the tattooed fist landing on his face, slumping him off of his chair and onto the floor. He withered in pain, cursing loudly.
Micah began to run, outstretching his fingers as h
e went. Adrenaline had pumped back into his veins as he could feel the fire. As the gym goers all watched the door of the coach’s office, he slipped out, running out the door and past the parking lot. He turned the corner, past the photographer packing up his gear into his car.
He kept running. The pavement jumped under his feet as the blistering sun beat down on his shirtless back. His head was clear, his mind made up. Each step was one closer. Each mile was one more he could leave behind.
The streets became more familiar as he entered the town of Steubenville. The sports arena became more visible as he could hear her voice in the distance cry out to him, “You better win.” He passed the Tick Tock Diner where he could glance a blur of Caroline waitressing a table. Alice, however, was not there.
He instead moved on, circling her street, waiting for someone, anyone to come. After several minutes, an older woman exited the brick apartment building, leaving the door open for a quick Micah to dash in. He raced up the stairs and tapped quietly on the door. He could hear her footsteps move inside the apartment. Her shadow told him that she was right outside the door.
Don’t You Dare: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance Page 8
