by M. S. Parker
“It's not a problem.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and tried to think of a way I could get her to drop the subject.
“Mr. Forbes pays me to decide if things are problems,” Gilen said. “And this girl is a problem.”
“She's really not,” I argued.
Gilen's hand slid up my arm to my shoulder. Her eyes met mine. “I'm sorry, Tyrell, but she is and you know it. You've been completely unfocused, even more so since the two of you slept together. You can't think about anything but her, and if that doesn't change, you'll never be ready to beat Hollin Pressman. Worse, you’ll embarrass yourself in the ring.”
Shit.
As much as I didn't want it to, her argument made sense.
Still...
“I can handle it,” I insisted.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What happens if the two of you get into some sort of argument right before your fight?” Gilen countered. “You'll be in Vegas, surrounded by groupies who'll be more than happy to do whatever you want them to do.”
“I'd never–”
“Doesn't matter,” she cut me off. “Like I said, I've been in this business for a while. I've seen dozens of relationships go to shit when one of them can't trust the other. Maybe it wouldn't be this time. But dating and fighting rarely go well together.”
I wanted to tell her that she was wrong. She might've known relationships that didn't work, but I knew of ones that did.
Except I couldn't think of any.
I was sure some existed, but I didn't know anyone. Every fighter I knew either didn't get involved at all, or their relationships were completely casual. Fuck buddies. Not girlfriends – or boyfriends, as was the case in at least three of the other fighters in the league. Dorian was with Sara now, but they weren’t together when he was a fighter. I didn't know of a single person who'd ever maintained a romantic relationship and won a championship. Maybe some had kept things quiet, but it didn't matter. Gilen was right. Cyn was affecting my focus.
I knew what I had to do, and it was as difficult as it was simple.
I had to decide what I wanted more: the championship...or Cynthia Rose.
Chapter Six
Cynthia Rose
I told myself that sleeping with Tyrell wouldn’t change things between us, and it really didn't. I went with Anita into the gym Monday and Tuesday, and he didn't look at me any longer than he had in the past. A part of me was bothered by it, but I tried to remind myself that it wouldn't look good for me if it became clear that we'd started a relationship while I was working on a story. It wasn't exactly unethical, but especially for a woman in journalism, it wasn't smart. A guy could sleep with whoever he wanted to, and no one thought any worse of him for it. A woman did it, and she was using sex to get ahead.
Tyrell and I just needed to keep things quiet until the story was done, and then we wouldn't need to worry about it anymore.
Wednesday, Anita and I stayed at the office and went through the photos I'd already taken to eliminate the ones we knew we weren't going to use at all. She also took the time to show me her process for putting together a long-term story like this. Each reporter had their own style, but I definitely preferred hers since it didn't leave everything to the last minute.
I was still thinking about the different aspects of her process that I wanted to incorporate into mine when my phone rang. I couldn't stop my stomach from fluttering when I saw his name on the screen, but I did, however, manage to keep my voice calm when I answered.
“Hey there, stranger.” I closed my eyes and mentally smacked myself for sounding like an idiot. “How did training go today?”
The silence that followed didn't bode well, and the butterflies in my stomach turned from arousal into something leaden and unpleasant.
“Ty?”
“We need to talk, Cynthia Rose.”
I sat down on the couch. From the moment he'd given me a nickname, that'd been pretty much the only thing he'd called me. And despite my original protest, I actually liked it.
“I like you,” he continued without waiting for me to respond. “But I haven't been able to concentrate since we...”
Heat flooded my face, but I pushed away the memory. I had a feeling I wouldn’t want to think about that when he finished whatever it was he was trying to say.
“Training's been fucked up. I can't do this,” he said. “I need to focus on the fight, and I can't do that if all I can think about is you.”
I wanted to ask him if he was breaking up with me, but we hadn't even been dating for two weeks. I wasn't sure that should even count.
And as much as I hated it, there was logic in what he was saying. If I was messing with his concentration, that wasn't a good thing. I'd done a bit of research on his opponent, and if Tyrell wasn't putting a hundred percent into the fight, he could end up seriously hurt, and I definitely didn't want that.
“It's okay,” I said. “I understand.” My voice sounded steadier than I thought it'd be.
Silence again.
“Okay then...I guess I'll see you when you and Anita come in again.”
“Yeah. I'll see you then.”
And then it was over.
I must've sat and stared at my phone for fifteen minutes, waiting for it to sink in. I'd never had a puritanical view of sex, where I thought there existed a specific amount of time that had to pass before it was appropriate to engage in various aspects of a physical relationship. My parents had taught my siblings and me that it was a personal choice, but that we should be wise in making it, knowing not just our own personal feelings about it, but making sure we knew our partner’s thoughts as well.
Sleeping with Tyrell had felt right at the time, but now I wasn't so sure. I'd always considered myself to be a good judge of character, and I'd thought that he'd been looking at what we had as the beginning of something bigger. Except less than week after we'd had sex, he'd broken up with me. He'd said it was because of the fight, but a part of me couldn't help but wonder if he was using it as an excuse to let me down easy now that he'd gotten what he wanted.
I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. I wasn't going to do this. Nothing Tyrell had done was an indication that I couldn't trust him, and that's what it came down to, plain and simple. Either I believed his reason or not, and I was going to choose to believe it. There was no point in working myself up over something that may or may not have come into play. We'd had no expectations of each other, no long-term investment.
None of that, however, made this any easier.
I was a quiet person by nature, choosy about how close I allowed people to get, so when someone I'd started to let in rejected me, I felt it deeply.
That meant it was time to break out a couple of the homemade chocolate chip cookies Mom had sent in one of her “care packages.” It didn't matter that I wasn't in college anymore, she'd said. As long as I was living away from home, she'd send me something every couple months.
This was definitely one of those times that I needed a little taste of home. While I didn't think I'd want to share the details with my mom, I couldn't deny that it would've been nice to have her sit and commiserate with me.
I'd give myself this evening to process and feel sorry for myself, but tomorrow morning, I'd put on my game face and go with Anita to the gym. I would be the consummate professional.
* * *
My resolve lasted until about thirty minutes into the visit. Anita was doing an interview with one of the other fighters, and I was supposed to be getting some action shots of Tyrell training. I'd already taken quite a few of him with Paul, but since Dorian Forbes had brought in a woman he called a motivational life coach, Anita wanted some shots of Tyrell with her.
That’s where everything started to go sideways.
Tyrell had given me a polite nod when I'd first come in, then turned his attention back to Gilen Roche. That made sense since the two of them had been working on something specific together. As he'd said yesterday, he n
eeded to focus.
When I started taking pictures, however, I began to notice that Gilen took a much more hands-on approach to coaching. No matter what position Tyrell was in, she would adjust him by putting his leg or arm where she wanted it rather than just telling him to move this way or that. And she lingered. It was never anything overtly inappropriate, and I couldn't even really be sure if it was my imagination, but something about her said she wasn't only professionally interested in Tyrell.
As much as that bothered me, I was able to ignore it...until they took a short break and Gilen put her hand on Tyrell's arm...and he let her keep it there.
He watched her when she talked, when she moved. All the intensity I'd felt directed at me just a few days ago was still there, but it was on her. Part of me insisted that he was just focusing on her because she was supposed to be helping him prepare for his match, but something in my gut said it was different.
I tried to be an honest person, especially with myself. I knew that some of what I was feeling could be jealousy. I really did like Tyrell, and I didn't like seeing him so close to another woman, but I knew that wasn't all of it.
I was disappointed, I realized suddenly. Not necessarily disappointed that he'd broken up with me, or even that he appeared to want Gilen instead.
I was disappointed because it looked like he’d lied about the reasons for breaking up, which meant I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. I could handle a loss of affection. I could handle if he wasn't attracted to me as much as he'd thought he was. It would sting, but I could understand it.
I couldn't, however, take deception.
Growing up, my family always had a strong stance when it came to deceit. If we did something wrong and came clean about it, we'd get in less trouble than if we lied about it. If something had been an accident, we weren’t punished, but if we tried to hide it, we'd be in deep shit when it was found out. And with five kids in the family, someone was almost always willing to squeal.
I knew that not everyone thought the same way, especially in relationships, and I supposed it was my own fault for not having made that clear. But, dammit, I hated that I now felt like Tyrell lied to me about why he didn't want to see me anymore.
And if he was that kind of man, the one who'd rather hide behind what he thought someone wanted to hear rather than the truth, then I'd been wrong about him from the beginning.
He wasn't the man I thought he was; the man I'd started falling for. The realization that I'd been so wrong, that I cared about someone who'd been only a front, hurt more than when he'd broken things off.
I forced myself to blink back tears and keep doing what I knew I needed to do. I couldn't let my emotions cloud my judgement or affect my job. Journalists had to be able to separate what they felt from the stories they wrote or pictures they took. We had to keep a sense of impartiality, and if Anita didn't think I could do that, she'd never stick her neck out for me again.
There was no way in hell I’d let Tyrell damage what I was working so hard to build.
No matter how much I was hurting.
Chapter Seven
Tyrell
So far, Gilen's brilliant idea wasn't exactly working the way I'd hoped.
I called Cynthia Rose the evening after Gilen recommended I end things, and I'd done just that. I'd told Cyn the reasons, though not who had given those reasons to me. And she'd been great. Hadn't cried or cursed or done any of the things that women usually did when a guy broke up with them. I should've been grateful that she'd taken things so well.
But I wasn't.
Her lack of a reaction bothered me all night. I wanted to think that she'd simply been keeping it together on the phone like the sweet, kind woman that I believed her to be. That once the call ended, she'd been suitably upset. I hated the idea of hurting her, but even more, I hated the idea that she hadn't reacted because she wasn’t affected that much.
It'd been less than two weeks, only two dates, and we'd slept together just once. Maybe she thought of things as having barely started between us. Maybe the sex for her had been only a physical pleasure. Maybe she hadn't felt the deep connection I had, the way we seemed to fit together so well, not just in bed, but also out. Maybe for her, it hadn't been anything important.
I hated the idea that I meant so little to her, and it ate me up so much that I couldn't sleep.
Paul was pissed when he saw how tired I looked, but Gilen made sure to tell me that I'd done the right thing. For the first hour, I believed her, but when Anita and Cynthia Rose came in, my doubts returned.
I only allowed myself to have one look at Cyn. I didn't trust myself with anything longer than that. But no matter how much I tried to focus on what I was supposed to be doing, I was always aware that she was there, watching as she took her pictures. Gilen did her best to help me keep my focus, correct the various positions I was supposed to be holding, the ways I was supposed to be stretching. She seemed friendlier than yesterday, probably because I'd taken her advice.
I assumed that things would get better once Anita and Cynthia Rose left. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. It shouldn't have been surprising for it to be a bit awkward for us to see each other after a break-up. But things didn't get easier once she was gone.
I wondered what she was thinking while she'd been here, what she was thinking now. I didn't think she'd told Anita about us, but I wasn't sure if she'd talked to anyone else. Would she call her parents, one of her brothers, or her sister? What would she say to them? Did they even know that she'd gone on a date with me?
The questions went round and round until, finally, I managed to clear my head a bit by sparring with one of the other guys, making it all the way through to the end without screwing up too badly. It didn't last long though. I hadn't been in the shower for more than a couple minutes before the questions started again. This time, however, they were more troubling.
They were questions about what she might be doing tonight, what she might have planned for the weekend. Who she might meet. I didn't expect her to spend her time moping over me. We hadn't talked much about either of our dating histories, but there was no way a woman like her would be without attention long.
How would I feel if I saw her with someone else? New York was a big city, so the chances weren't huge, but it was always a possibility. Knowing my luck, I'd end up seeing her and the new guy everywhere I went.
The thought made me sick.
Sick enough that I didn't sleep much Thursday night either, and what little sleep I did get was plagued with dreams about Cyn...with someone else. Me watching her dance. Kiss. Fuck...
That’s when I decided to go for a run before breakfast.
Which did absolutely fuck-all nothing for me.
* * *
A sharp smack in the shoulder snapped me back to reality.
“Dammit, Smoak!” Paul shouted at me. “Get your head out of your ass!”
“Paul.”
Gilen stepped between us. Her voice was silky smooth, but Paul narrowed his eyes at her. I'd already gotten the impression that he wasn't that fond of her, that he was only putting up with her because Dorian said to.
“Why don't you let me take it from here?” she said. “It seems to me that his current problem is mental, not physical, which means it's my department. Not yours.”
I could practically feel Paul bristling. He hadn't fought in years, but he still exuded the same raw power that had made him one of the top boxers in his weight class a few decades ago.
“Let her see if she can help me get my head together,” I cut in. The last thing I needed right now was Paul and Gilen butting heads. I was in no mood to play mediator.
Paul looked at me, then back at Gilen. He held her stare for a good thirty seconds, then rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering to himself. I was pretty sure I didn't want to know what he was saying.
Gilen waited until he was out of earshot and then turned to me. She put her hands on her hips, arranging her body in such a way
that it drew attention to her flat, toned stomach, to the cleavage that her sports bra revealed. She was an attractive woman, I couldn't deny that.
“You need to get that girl out of your head.”
I spun around and kicked the big bag hard enough to feel the shock go all the way up my leg.
“I've been trying,” I said. “You told me that I needed to break up with her so I could put all of my energy into training, but it hasn't helped.”
“Apparently, you need to get over her,” Gilen said matter-of-factly. “And the best way to do that is to blow off some steam.”
I raised an eyebrow. Drinking wasn't an option, and I really hoped she wasn't suggesting we do yoga.
* * *
Not yoga.
Most definitely not yoga.
Though some of the positions I saw being used in the darker corners of the club definitely required the same level of flexibility.
When Gilen suggested that she take me somewhere on my day off, then told me to dress for a club, I'd honestly expected some sort of New Age-y meditation bar.
Not an S&M club where people wore leather – or not much at all.
“Mistress Gilen.” A thin man with silver hoops through his nipples approached us before we'd gone more than a foot into the club. He gave her a prissy little bow that seemed at odds with his tight leather pants and barbed wire tattoos. “We haven't seen you in some time.”
“It's good to see you too, Mac.”
I looked over at her. Her dress was tight and low-cut, but that wasn't what caught my attention. She always had an air of authority when we worked together, but there was a different note there now, something I hadn't seen before. It wasn't until I looked at her, however, that I realized what she was.
