Gwen drained a mug of what was probably tea. “Yes, please. Maybe another type of punch?”
“Um. Sure. What about an uppercut? Let’s try a left one. You need to work on your weaker side.”
“Yes, Miss Lawson,” Gwen droned in the obedient but bored voice they’d all used with teachers when at school. Then she smirked.
Aya crumpled her brow and pointed to Gwen. “None of that cheek, young lady, or I’ll make you stay after class.”
“That’s a rubbish threat, considering I love spending time in close quarters with you,” Gwen said with a beaming smile as she headed into the living room. “So, what’s the posture for an uppercut?”
“With this one you need to think about shifting most of your weight to your back leg.”
Gwen tugged on her earlobe, an adorable frown of confusion on her features.
“Just get in the ready position and we’ll go from there,” Aya said, unable to hide her smile.
Gwen did as asked, glancing over at her for approval.
“Cool,” Aya said. “Now, you have to really anchor with your back leg for a powerful uppercut.”
Gwen leaned back as if there was a bad smell in front of her.
Aya crossed her arms over her chest. “Not that much. You can’t reach your opponent now.”
“Well, excuse me for not knowing what you’re on about. Show me instead of standing there complaining,” Gwen said with an exaggerated pout.
Aya pulled off her hoodie, adjusted her Muscles & Mitts T-shirt, and demonstrated the posture. Gwen copied it but was still leaning back too much with her legs too far apart.
“Hm. Better, but you sort of look like you’re trying to do the splits. Also, your back is tilting backwards too much. The bend needs to come from your knees and hips.”
Aya grasped Gwen’s shoulders to tug her torso forward, like Bill had done with her when she was learning. However, on those occasions, she had never stood with her legs this far apart. Or been so thin and tall. Nor been so unbending during the manoeuvring. Gwen being all these things, and never very balanced, meant that the movement unsteadied her completely. She surged forward, making them collide. Luckily, Aya stood secure and caught her.
Now Gwen was in her arms, her entire body weight held in Aya’s embrace, her hands clutching Aya but her mouth showing a graceful, calm smile.
A quick memory of when she had carried Gwen from the floor blinked into her mind and then back out. This was so entirely different. Back then, Aya had been helping Gwen and was in complete control. Now, even though Gwen was the one off-balance, Aya felt that all the decisions were in Gwen’s hands. Aya watched the left hand nimbly gripping her bicep. Those fingers were so creamy white, smooth and long. Gwen’s hands weren’t clumsy and calloused like Aya’s boxer’s hands, which only punched and lifted weights. These beautiful, agile hands created things. Right now, they were creating all sorts of sensations in Aya. Admiration, affection, arousal.
Gwen remained smiling in her arms, leaning towards the ground but clearly unafraid. She trusted Aya to hold her up. Then those jewel-blue eyes moved, and Aya traced her gaze. Gwen was staring at her lips. Aya’s chest tightened. When had she taken her last breath? She inhaled, sounding like a drowning person gasping in a breath.
Well, that’s an attractive noise, you pillock.
Gwen’s right hand, formerly gripping Aya’s shoulder, moved to cup Aya’s cheek. “Are you okay?” she whispered, as if a louder voice would shatter the moment.
Aya nodded, too fast and too desperately to be convincing.
“It’s all right,” Gwen whispered with all the certainty that Aya didn’t feel.
She lost herself in those safe, blue eyes and slowly began to relax. She’d learned to trust Gwen’s assessments. It was okay. Everything would be all right as long as Gwen was with her.
Gwen with the kind face and that sweet, upturned nose.
Gwen with the soft hand that still cupped her cheek, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it.
Gwen with those lips that had been pretty even when pale and parched, but now, had bloomed into an inviting rosy sheen. They drew her full attention, hypnotising and appearing to pulsate with life.
You’re hallucinating because you’re not breathing properly. Get yourself together!
Aya forced herself to take a deep breath, filling her chest and belly. As she did, she had to adjust her slipping grip on Gwen. Something which only brought their bodies closer together. Those rosy lips were so close now. They called to her. In this moment, they were Aya’s whole world. Nothing else mattered.
Before she could think it through, her own lips had sought them out and connected with them. Gwen’s lips were warm and yielding, like her whole body, still resting in Aya’s embrace.
It was an honour to be allowed kiss her, to hold her. To have Gwen trust her like this. To share this perfect, intimate moment. This perfect kiss, all tingling warmth and bliss. How could she be this lucky?
Then Gwen’s hand on Aya’s bicep tightened and Gwen disentangled herself, getting to her feet. She stood and backed away.
Alarm bells blared in Aya’s mind. That sent a clear message. Gwen hadn’t wanted to be kissed. Not by Aya? Not now? Not like this? All of the above?
Panic made Aya want to throw up. She had risked everything. She needed Gwen, and now she’d lost her. She knew this had been too good to be true. Of course she would do the wrong thing and ruin it, like she always did. And for what? Because she couldn’t keep her hands, or rather her lips, to herself.
Disgust and anxiety made her nausea worse. She put a hand to her stomach. “Sorry. I-I have to go.”
She ran out before Gwen could answer. If Gwen didn’t speak, nothing was definite. Nothing bad could be said if Gwen couldn’t say it. It wasn’t logical, but it was all Aya had.
She switched off her phone as she got into the jeep. She would discuss this with Gwen, of course, but not now. Now all she could think to do was escape by driving home as fast as she legally could.
Chapter Forty-Three
Love-Struck
The next morning dragged, mainly because Gwen couldn’t get Aya to reply to her texts or voicemails. Granted, Aya was at work now, but she could still check her texts occasionally.
Gwen rubbed her forehead. Maybe her messages asking Aya to get in touch had been too vague, but she couldn’t be honest and say that she’d loved the kiss. Loved it so much that right after it, she’d gotten to her feet to be in a better position to kiss Aya again. And again. And never stop.
She couldn’t be honest because Aya had looked horrified by the kiss and run off.
No, Gwen had to be vague. She had to play it cool until she knew how Aya felt. If Aya regretted the kiss, then one of the most important friendships in Gwen’s life was at stake.
To make things more complicated, Gwen couldn’t stop worrying about the consequences. If Aya said she liked the kiss as well, if there was a chance of romance between them, questions would have to be asked. Was Aya prepared to date someone with a debilitating mental illness? Was it fair to ask Aya to live with that sort of burden? Were Gwen and her recovering mind even ready to be in a relationship again? Was Aya?
The memory of Sarah, the woman she was set to marry until Gwen’s depression got too much for her, kept rearing its ugly head.
Aya isn’t Sarah. She’s much more stable and steadfast.
Gwen managed until eleven-thirty, then her desperation for answers got the better of her. If Aya wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give her answers, she had to find the person who knew her best and maybe could answer for her. Bill.
Gwen steeled herself to leave the flat and then headed for Muscles & Mitts. It had been a mild, sunny morning, so she chose a knitted sweater instead of her coat. Ten minutes into the walk, though, the sky arched grey and overcast above the city, mirroring her wretched mood and making her reconsider her outfit. She picked up her speed.
When she entered the gym, weaving between a woman pumm
elling a speed bag and two blokes skipping rope, she saw Bill.
He was inspecting the men with the skip ropes and bellowed, “I told you those shoes were too slippery” as one of the men fell. After checking that the guy was okay, Bill looked up and spotted Gwen.
He nodded at her and came over. “Hey, kid. You looking for Aya?”
“No, I know she’s still at Explore. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Me?” He knitted his bushy, grey eyebrows.
“Yes. I need to talk to you about Aya. Or rather, ask you about her.”
“Okay, shoot. I’ve known her since she was a teenager, and she’s as much of an open book now as she was back then.”
Gwen decided to start with the obvious. “I think I’ve fallen in love with her.”
He threw his fists above his head. “Boom, there it is! I’ve been waiting weeks for you two to stop thinking you were just friends. So, what you want to ask me is if I think she’s in love with you, too?”
“No. That’s probably a question I need to take up with her. As soon as she starts replying to my texts,” Gwen grumbled. “What I wanted to ask you, as someone who probably knows her better than she knows herself, is,” she hesitated, fidgeting with her sleeve, “is if she’s equipped for a relationship with someone who will at times be a burden.”
“A burden?”
Gwen wanted to sink through the floor but pushed herself on. “I don’t know if she told you, but I have clinical depression.”
“She did. She talked about how impressed she was with your moxie, you know, when it comes to coping with it.”
“That’s nice,” Gwen said vaguely. “She’s very supportive and the best friend anyone could ask for. However, it’s a whole other thing when you’re in a full-time relationship with someone who has a different brain chemistry.”
Bill rubbed his huge chest pensively. “Hm. Well, I’ll tell ya three things.” He held up a huge finger. “Aya, or anyone worth your time, would never think of you as a burden.”
He waited until she reluctantly nodded, then held up a second finger. “Aya’s strong and flexible. She can handle anything if she’s got someone who believes in her and reminds her to believe in herself. During her boxing career, with all the pain and pressure—and of course growing up with absent parents who I honestly believe didn’t want kids—she’s lived through a lot of crap. She’s a tough cookie. She can take whatever your depression might throw at her.”
Gwen’s racing mind came to a screeching halt. That was true, wasn’t it? Aya was a fighter who wasn’t put off by hardship. She’d spent a life fighting for her parents’ love and never gotten it.
Can I really let my depression rob her of my love, too?
He held up a third finger. “Finally, the most important thing, Aya’s love-struck for you.” He stared her right in the eye. “She’d fall to pieces if you didn’t let her love the hell out of you.”
Outwardly, Gwen lurched a little. Inwardly, a shaft of sunlight was cracking through the cold unease in her chest and spreading bright, heated bliss. “I… I’d like to be the person who reminds Aya to believe in herself.”
He knitted his brows again. “Well, kid, why the hell are you telling me? Go tell her.”
Gwen beamed. “I will. I’ll go right now.”
“No, hang on for a sec. I wanna talk to you about these ‘boosts’ that Aya has been giving you.”
Hiding her impatience, Gwen replied, “Sure, what about them?”
“The idea stuck in my mind.” He scratched his cheek with the air of a man formulating his thoughts. “When Aya told me about them, I started thinking about my life. I figured the woman I loved and the job I loved almost as much were my boosts.”
Gwen must have looked sceptical because he held up a hand. “I know, I know. Those are things that I love and that make my life worth living, not the boosts you were talking about, right?”
“Right.” She searched for the words to explain. “My pick-me-ups, or boosts, have more been like, um, moments of joy. Little treats or even surprises that pop up in a normal day.”
He pointed a finger at her, all enthusiasm now. “Yeah! That’s what I figured, too, and that was when it hit me. What we’re talking about here, kid, is romanticising the small things in life.”
“The small things?” Gwen asked, smothering the wish to shut him up so she could run to Aya.
“Uh-huh. Like treating yourself to a great piece of pie. Or catching a movie you’ve been dying to see.” He scratched his cheek again. “It’s about the treats, but most of all it’s about how you take them when they arrive, how much you enjoy them! They’re something to look forward to and to really enjoy the hell out of when you get ‘em, right?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
He nodded as if they were now in some sort of conspiracy or club. “There you go. Well, my boost for today is gonna be leaving work ten minutes early so I can go see the woman I love.” He eyed her. “Speaking of which, why are you here? Go see the woman you love, kid. Go get ‘er!”
Gwen didn’t argue; she thanked him and hurried out.
Not only had her doubts been doused by Bill, but she’d also gotten some perspective when she was finally out of her flat and her own cage of a mind. No matter how afraid she was of getting into a relationship and what it could do to her mental health, no matter how she worried if Aya would be able to handle her and her illness full time, it was with her as Bill said it was with Aya - She was love-struck and there was no fighting it.
Chapter Forty-Four
Her Heart on Her Sleeve
Aya stepped out of the office and into Hanley, the town functioning as Stoke-on-Trent’s city centre. It had been a sunny morning when Aya arrived at this busy side street. Now the sky was filled with massive, grey clouds, heavy with rain. It explained why there wasn’t anyone around; everyone was taking shelter. Aya pulled up the hood of her jacket, getting ready to sprint through the pending rain. She turned, though, at the sound of footfalls pounding the pavement and saw Gwen stop in front of her, clasping her side as if she had a stitch.
“Gwen! Are you okay?” Aya scanned her knitted jumper and light trousers. “You’re not dressed properly. It’ll pour down any second.”
“No time,” Gwen stopped to suck in a breath, “to get changed. Bill said to hurry,” another gasp for air, “to you.”
“Bill? What does he have to do with this?”
“He said I should go get you,” she said, breathing almost back to normal.
“Get me? What, like fetch me? Has something happened to him?”
“No, he’s fine! He just wanted me to tell you that I want to be with you and take care of you, that you are worth any risks, and to…” Gwen took a long inhale and bit her lip before finishing with, “…to do this, I suppose.”
She leaned in and quickly touched her lips to Aya’s, then stood back with her hands clasped.
Aya wasn’t quite sure what the statement, or the peck, meant. Considering how touchy-feely Gwen was, it could mean ‘we’re really close friends so a little kiss is fine, don’t worry about last night’. Or it could mean ‘I enjoyed the kiss and want to date you’. There was no way around it. As much as it pained Aya, she’d have to come right out and ask.
“Was that like a… friend kiss?”
Gwen fidgeted with her hands. “If you want it to be.”
The blood rushed in Aya’s ears. “And if I want it to be more?”
“Then you better give me a kiss that shows that it’s more,” Gwen said quietly.
Aya closed the gap between them, put her hands on Gwen’s waist, and, with her heart pounding like a drum, let herself be drawn to those rosy lips again.
How could she convey all her love and appreciation in one kiss? Would that be open-mouthed? Should she press their lips together hard or go in gentle and sweet? Before she had time to decide, her mouth was on Gwen’s. Gwen parted her lips and unlocked Aya’s. From there, their lips clasped each other in every possib
le formation.
Aya’s hands were less certain. They kept moving from Gwen’s waist to her hips and back again, barely clutching her, as if Gwen was as fragile as spun glass. Gwen was having none of that. She put her hands over Aya’s on her waist and squeezed. That was all the direction Aya needed. She grabbed Gwen and pulled her close with all the craving she’d been burying for weeks. She didn’t know you could need someone’s touch like this, need that physical connection like you did air or food.
The kiss intensified, tongues touching and exploring mouths. Gwen’s hands stroked her neck and threaded into her hair. Aya was thunderstruck. It was as if beneficial electricity buzzed through Aya’s veins and into her heart, making it pulse faster and stronger, growing her heart to twice its size to fit all the love she was generating.
Only when her teeth knocked into Gwen’s did she stop the kiss. “Oops. You okay?”
Gwen nodded. She was breathing fast, her eyes lidded and her mouth ajar. Aya could’ve sworn she was high on something.
“That,” Gwen panted, “certainly wasn’t friendly.”
“No,” Aya replied with an incredulous laugh.
Gwen placed her forehead against hers. “Now what?”
Aya knew what had to come next, but it frightened her. She remembered asking Susannah out. As nerve-wracking as that had been, she could fall back on silly pick-up lines and over-the-top flirting. At the time it had been extremely important to her, but deep down she’d known that if she messed it up, she’d leave, go home to Stoke, and life would carry on.
This situation, though, this woman, had become her home.
The stakes were so much higher. This time, she wasn’t gambling with her self-esteem; she was gambling with her heart and her newly rebuilt life. There was no pick-up line that would do. No suave comment. No joke. There was only her heart on her sleeve.
She braced herself. “If you think it’s a good idea, could w-we start dating?”
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