by Maya Cross
After Logan left, my mind wandered back to Tom. He'd told me he wanted me to move on. I still wasn't sure if that was possible, but maybe today I'd taken a step in that direction.
One layer at a time.
Chapter Fourteen
Logan
I left the choice of food to Grace. I know about as much about restaurants as I do about brain surgery. She settled on some new Mexican place, buried in the suburbs, which was fine by me. Part of me had been afraid she'd pick something complicated and fancy and leave me looking like an idiot trying to translate a menu full of truffles and foie gras and shit that was too pretentious to be called by its real name. Burritos and tacos I could handle.
We organized to meet outside the place at seven o'clock. It annoyed me that I couldn't do the whole proper gentleman thing and pick her up from her place, but it had been years since I'd owned a car. I like to run, and I'm not much for traveling outside my comfort zone, so my own two feet work well enough most of the time.
She rocked up right on time wearing a jaw dropping little black dress that did nothing to hide that ridiculous body. I actually stopped in my tracks for several seconds when I first laid eyes on her. I'd already seen her naked but, bizarrely, I thought she actually looked even sexier like this. Classy, but hinting at so much.
Her face lit with a smile as I approached. I didn't think I'd ever get sick of that sight.
"Wow, you're really pulling out the big guns," she said. "I didn't know you owned anything with a collar."
I grinned sheepishly. "I didn't until a few hours ago."
"You didn't have to do that."
With any other girl, I wouldn't have, but with her it felt somehow wrong to just rock up in a tee shirt and shorts. Like the idea of picking her up, for some reason I felt compelled to do things properly this time. It was early days, but something deep in my bones told me this wasn't a throwaway romance. This was the real deal. She deserved to be treated like a princess, and if that meant spending forty bucks on a shirt I'd never wear again, then so be it.
I shrugged. "This is what people wear on dates, right?"
"Some people."
"Besides, I didn't want to be the under-dressed bum with the beautiful girl on my arm." I gave her an exaggerated look up and down. "But apparently that's going to be the case anyway. Fuck, you look good."
She blushed and my eyes zoned in on her lips once more. I'm not much for caked on makeup — I prefer my women to look like women, not clowns — but she had this subtle shade of lipstick on that made her whole mouth look fuller somehow, more sensual. It was driving me fucking crazy. I wanted to kiss her, but past experience told me I wasn't going to be able to stop there, and I didn't think the Vegas streets were quite ready for that particular show.
The way she returned my gaze told me she was having similar thoughts. I had no idea how I managed to restrain myself last night, but I was certainly regretting it now. I could already feel all the blood in my body rushing south. If we kept standing there like that, it was going to be very obvious to everyone in the restaurant exactly what I thought of my date.
Before things downstairs could get too out of control I said, "Shall we?" She nodded and took my hand. I drew a deep breath, the kind everyone tells you will calm you down. Crunch time. It wasn't just my ignorance about food that led me to avoid restaurants. Any room full of people is a challenge for me, but I was determined to do my best. Grace deserved more than a broken down hermit. If she could overcome the immense guilt and grief of a lost partner to be here with me, I sure as hell could try to put aside my fear of noise and company.
It still amazed me that we were here at all. Even the other night when we were lying there naked together, after she'd thrown herself at me, I couldn't quite believe it was what she wanted. It didn't seem possible that there was space for me next to all that pain. It frightened me. The things she'd said had been so raw, so sincere, but nonetheless part of me couldn't help wondering if she was just looking for a distraction, a few moments of warmth and passion to help keep her afloat. When the dust had settled and the thrill had worn off, and she understood how fucked up I really was, would she still be interested? I'd do anything to help her through this, but that would break me.
I think that's part of why I was trying so hard. The shirt, the date, I desperately wanted to live up to her expectations. I knew I'd never be normal in every sense of the word, but if I could just force myself to do a few simple things, perhaps that would be enough. Besides, it had been a long time since I'd even tried to put myself out here like this. I'd been keeping it together lately. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
The restaurant was smaller than I expected, maybe forty seats in total, but the bulk of them were full. It had an air of restrained energy to it, not quite the din of a Friday night bar, but not an intimate romantic venue, either. The hostess led us to a small wooden table in the middle of the room.
"This is cool," Grace said, glancing around as she slid into her seat.
I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. The space between us and the nearby tables was small, maybe three feet, which meant we were ringed in on all sides by people. "You don't have any other tables do you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Maybe one in a corner?"
The hostess almost seemed put out by the request. "Sorry, we're fully booked tonight."
"What's wrong with this one?" asked Grace.
I gave myself a mental slap and tried to focus on her. It was only a room full of people out having a good time. Just like us. "Nothing. I'm just being stupid. Never mind, this is fine."
"I'm glad," the hostess replied, shooting me an insincere smile that said "don't you dare cause any trouble." She placed two menus down in front of us and began to read out the specials, but my ears were already elsewhere. That's the thing about the military, they teach you to be aware of everything at all times, and the training is burned so deep that you never quite shake the habit. Hyper-vigilance, they call it. Right now, all I wanted to do was concentrate on the beautiful girl in front of me, but the room wouldn't let me. The clatter of cutlery, the scrape of a plate, the murmur of another couple whispering quietly to our right — they filled my awareness. I had this desperate urge to try and look at everything at once, to make sure it was what it sounded like, but of course that was impossible from our current location. Blood was beginning to pound in my ears.
"They sound good," said Grace, squeezing my hand and bringing me temporarily back to Earth. "Just give us a minute."
When the hostess was gone, Grace's smile slipped a little. "Are you sure you're okay? You look about ready to snap that thing in two."
I realized my fingers were locked in a white-knuckle grip around the table lip and I forced them to relax. "I'm just not good with crowds."
She furrowed her brow. "Then let's go. We can find somewhere else. It's no big deal."
It was tempting, but if I couldn't even get through five minutes in a tiny restaurant then what the hell did that say about me? About what sort of boyfriend I'd be? I shook my head firmly. "No. This was my idea. I want to stay. Really, I do. I'll be okay."
She looked uncertain, but she nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Keep talking. It helps me focus."
"Okay." She gave a thoughtful pause. "What are you thinking of ordering? I hope Mexican was an okay choice."
"Mexican's great," I replied, my pulse steadying. Scrape. Rustle. Bang. Focus! I glanced at the menu. "I'm a big fan of fajitas."
"Good choice. Apparently they're one of the chef's specialties. And they're, like, seventy five percent chicken breast, so even Tony would approve!"
I found a ghost of a smile then. "Ah, I forgot about that. Better order some dessert too then, just to spite him."
She laughed. "Speaking of your training diet, that fight with Caesar sure was something. You just flattened him out of nowhere."
"Yeah it was a pretty clean strike." In truth, I barely remembered it. Once I noticed Jonah,
Caesar had gone from an opponent in probably the most important fight of my career to just something that was in my way. Not much could pull me from a fight like that, but seeing Grace being hit on apparently did the trick, and when something tugs at my emotions, crazy shit can happen. I'm not proud of it, hell, I wish it wasn't the case, but that's just how I'm wired now. It's zero or a hundred, nothing in between. "I know I've said this before, but I'm really sorry about that."
"I didn't mean it like that. It's fine."
"No, I know. I just want you to understand. I get...angry, sometimes. I don't know why, exactly. A switch just triggers and I see red. Some part of me knows I'm overreacting, but that reaction goes beyond logic. It doesn't happen often, but if it does, I want you to be prepared."
She studied me. No fear in her eyes, just a hint of compassion. "Okay. I appreciate you telling me."
There was an awkward pause. Christ, five minutes into the date and we were discussing my rage issues. Am I a charmer or what?
Thankfully, she pushed on. "You know when you're fighting next?"
I shrugged. "A few weeks, probably. That's the usual."
She nodded. "You know, I wasn't really expecting to, but I really enjoyed watching it. There's something so visceral about it, something that goes beyond regular sport."
"You should try being in the ring."
"Not sure I'm quite ready for that yet," she said with a laugh. "I am kind of curious though, what it's like in there I mean. You talked a little about how alive it makes you feel but, to be honest, I can't imagine anything more terrifying."
"It is terrifying, but that's the appeal. That sense of risk. I was always hyper competitive, even before I shipped out. And for people like me, the greater the stakes the greater the reward. I used to be able to get that rush from anything at a high enough level; football, basketball, whatever, but now it needs something more. It needs that danger. When you're in the ring and it's just the two of you, your fists against theirs, your body, maybe your life, on the line, everything else just fades to black. All your problems drop away. There's no space for anything else, and there's a strange sense of peace in that. I've never experienced anything so pure before. I know it sounds fucking insane, but there it is."
She took a few seconds processing this. I didn't expect her to get it, but she surprised me. "It's not insane. It's just the epitome of survival."
That was a remarkably simple way to put it. "Yeah, I guess it is. To be honest, I kind of wish I got more fights like that last one. Charlie works hard, but Final Blow is still a small fish in a giant pond. A lot of the guys involved just fight casually. I'm not trying to dis them — they do well for the work they put in — but Caesar was a whole different ball game. That guy is a fighter, one hundred percent. It's been a long time since I felt that sort of adrenaline."
"Well, maybe Charlie can get more guys like that now that you've proven yourself."
"Maybe." I drummed my fingers on the table, realizing I was dominating the conversation. "Anyway, enough heavy shit. First dates are meant to be light and fluffy, right? Hobbies, siblings, childhood. So tell me about New York. Did you grow up there?"
She nodded. "In Brooklyn. I love it there. I'm definitely a city person. There's nothing more exciting than having a million different things to do at your doorstep. You never get bored in a place like New York."
I could totally see her as this sophisticated, cultured, urban girl. Theaters, book stores, trendy little cafes. It made me wonder what the hell she was doing here with the likes of me, a guy who spent ninety-nine percent of his life in the same three places.
"Have you thought about going back?" I asked. "Not that I don't appreciate you being here. It just seems like the logical choice — head home, move back in with your folks until you get back on your feet."
She scoffed. "Yeah, fat chance of that. I'm not even sure they'd answer if I called." There was a hint of sadness in her voice, although she tried to hide it. "They never approved of Tom and I, of what he did. 'Degenerate' and 'irresponsible' were some of their favorite words. We fought about it constantly. Dad was worse than mum. He's a lawyer, an old school scotch and cigars type, and he has very particular ideas about the way families should be. Mum didn't like it either, but she tried to keep the peace, kept reassuring him it was 'just a phase.' Then I told them we were moving over here together, and they couldn't hide behind that anymore. They told me that if I followed through, that was it, they were washing their hands of me. And then they did."
"That's horrible," I said.
She shrugged. "They're fairly horrible people, all things considered. I did think about contacting them, but every time I pick up the phone, I just get this knot in my stomach. Even if they did take me in, the self-righteous 'I told you so' shtick would be too much. I can't deal with that."
"What about friends? People you could stay with?"
"A few, but nobody super close. Most of my cheffing buddies moved away and took positions in different cities. There's just not a whole lot left for me there. Besides, coming out here was meant to be a new start. Crawling back to New York would feel a little too much like going backward."
"I can understand that."
"What about you?" she asked. "Parents? Siblings?"
I felt a twinge of sadness, but I pushed it away. "I've got a brother, but we don't talk anymore, and my parents were killed in a plane crash when I was sixteen."
"Oh God. I'm so sorry."
"It's fine. I mean, I still miss them, but at the same time, it feels like a lifetime ago now, to be honest."
For a few seconds she stared into space. "So much for light and fluffy, hey?"
"Maybe we're just not light and fluffy people, right now."
She gave a little nod. "Maybe."
In the silence that followed, I realized Grace had held my attention for the better part of ten minutes. The restaurant was still buzzing around us, but it had stayed in the background, where it belonged. Regardless of the weight of the conversation, that was a victory for me.
"What's that smile for?" she asked.
I took her hand in mine. "I'm just happy to be here with you."
She found a smile of her own. "Me too."
We ordered, and the conversation moved into simpler waters. We talked about our childhoods, about movies, about school. It came so easily with her, nothing forced, no awkward small talk. Every so often the room would intrude, pushing its way into our little bubble, but for the most part my anxiety was held at bay, nothing more than a faint pulse running under my skin. It wasn't dissimilar to being in the ring, just the two of us talking while the world faded away.
After settling the bill we walked to a nearby mall to catch a movie. Grace had been lively so far, but outside in the cool night air, her mood seemed to sink.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
She blinked several times, as if coming back from somewhere far away. "Yes. No. I don't know." There was a pause. "I was just thinking about Tom, about the sort of dates we went on. He'd have enjoyed that place."
"Ah."
"Does that bother you?"
It was something I'd thought about a lot, but I still took my time answering. "I feel like it should, but honestly it doesn't. Nobody belongs to anyone completely, not even themselves. There's pieces of me everywhere; Ace, Fiona, Charlie, just like there's a piece of you that will always be Tom's. You spend too much time worrying about it, you miss the stuff you've got right now. We're here now and we're together, and it makes me happy to just take whatever you're able to give me."
Her eyes shone in the streetlights, two amber jewels, as a single tear traced its way down her face. "Oh shit, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"No. Happy tears," she said, her lips curling into a smile. "They're happy tears."
I didn't quite understand what had happened, but as she pressed herself against my chest I pulled her close, glad to not have ruined things.
After a few seconds she broke awa
y, trying in vain to wipe the redness from her eyes. "Anyway, we should keep moving or we're going to miss the film."
Despite my passion for movies, it had been forever since I'd actually gone to a theater. Crowds, noise, you know the drill. Normally the thought set my pulse racing, but after dinner had gone so well, I was feeling cautiously optimistic. We both love comedies, and there was a new Will Ferrel film playing that looked hilarious. We spent the rest of the walk quoting Anchorman and discussing which of the two of us, in fact, loved lamp more.
The mall was busier than I expected for a Sunday night. It took us five minutes just to buy our tickets.
"Popcorn?" I asked.
"Jesus, do you want me to explode? Or maybe you've got a secret fetish for larger girls? Trying to fatten me up?"
She had a point. We did eat an awful lot, including the spite dessert I'd insisted upon, which turned out to be far larger than anticipated, but that wasn't going to stop me.
I wrapped my arms around her, leaning in close and cupping her ass. Just the feel of it in my hands was enough to sending something primal rolling through me. Goddamn, I wanted her. "Believe me, this body is perfect just the way it is." I whispered it, but we still drew several disapproving looks. Apparently groping your date in public is frowned upon. I kept my hands where they were.
"Is that right?" she asked, her voice suddenly soft and fluttering. This was hardly first date behavior, but I think we both knew we were well past that. Besides, she was enjoying it as much as I was.
"It is. I think about your ass a lot, you know."
"That's slightly perverted of you," she replied, mock offense with a healthy dose of mischief in her tone.
"Maybe, but I can't help it. I think about how it feels, how it will look when you're bent over in front of me."
Her breath was coming faster now. I'm not sure why, but even that was a turn on. I'd always had pretty good self-control where women were concerned, but there was rarely a time where I didn't want to throw Grace over my shoulder, carry her to the nearest room with a door and fuck her senseless.
