On His Turf (4 page)
Before we tear off down the street I glance back at the building and look up. Most of the condo units are dark but warm yellow light spills from the windows of the tenth floor party and when I look up at the balcony I see his silhouette leaned over the railing with his hands clasped together. And even though it’s too dark to see his face I swear I can feel the cocky grin I know he must be wearing right between my legs.
We drop off our drunken friend and when we finally reach my place Matty decides he’s too tired to drive home so crashes on the sofa. I climb into my own bed but leave the door open so I can hear him breathing in the other room. Until the age of about thirteen he used to sleep right beside me in bed but when puberty hit it became too complicated to explain so he started taking up residence on the floor. To say that neither of us had perfect childhoods would be a gross understatement and Matty has been my safe place ever since we were six years old. It’s hard for some people to understand from the outside but I consider him to be the only real family I have, and that’s saying a lot considering my mother lives only a few miles away in East Riverside. Matty and I rely on each other a lot especially since I’ve never seemed to have the time or inclination to really become close with anyone else. I worked two jobs in high school and all throughout college just to pay the bills and it left little time for movie dates, homecoming, sleepovers and keg parties. And both Matty and I have been burned enough times to know that sometimes it’s just better to avoid the flame all together. As I lie awake thinking about the events of tonight I realize that that’s exactly what Shane represents to me; nothing but a blazing hot fire that burns bright in the moment then fizzles out just as quickly as it came. To me he’s like a glowing element on a hot stove - and everyone knows what happens when you put your hand on a hot stove. I try to remind myself of this very fact as my eyes close and I drift off to sleep thinking about nothing but his two perfect dimples, his chocolate brown eyes, and how soft and perfect his lips felt pressed against mine.
It’s almost noon when I wake up the next morning which must be a record since I’ve usually been to the gym and done a load of laundry by now. I walk to the living room where I find Matty still passed out. His gelled hair is now rumpled and without his glasses on he looks so sweet and vulnerable splayed out on the sofa. I gently shake him awake and he stretches like a cat before pulling me in for a morning hug. I rest my head against his chest and his kisses the top of my head. “I’m starving,” he says as his stomach rumbles.
“El Guapos?” I suggest and he immediately starts moving. We go there almost every weekend for brunch because they have the best huevos rancheros in town.
I slip off his lap and head to my room to pack a gym bag while he gets ready in the bathroom. I’m still surprised that I slept as long as I did considering we got home before midnight. I wonder if I just needed to recover from the sensory overload of having had Shane Mitchell’s tongue down my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and silently scold myself for thinking about it. Whatever it was it is over and done with now.
***
Half an hour later we are sitting at our favorite back booth with two strong coffees and eggs on the way. Matty slides his sunglasses off his nose and places them on the edge of the table before speaking.
“So what happened last night? Where did you disappear to? I was looking all over for you.”
“Shane dragged me to his bedroom,” I say and he runs a hand through his messy hair before responding.
“Yeah, I kind of overheard Shane’s buddies talking about him disappearing with some hot chick but I was hoping it wasn’t you,” he says sheepishly.
“It wasn’t like that! You know me better than that. He was mad about the fake boyfriend thing and he called me out on it,” I say defensively.
“And?”
“And…he kissed me. And I told him it wasn’t happening then I left and ran into you.”
“Good,” Matty says, letting out a relieved sigh.
“Good?” I say, confused. “You’re the one who told me he was sex in cleats and I shouldn’t fight it.”
“That was before I saw the way he was looking at you. To be honest it freaked me out a little bit, Carm.”
“How so?” I press.
“I don’t know…it was just really intense. I think he’s too much for you, honey. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well I said it’s not happening so just drop it,” I snap, feeling a little wounded that Matty doesn’t think I can handle myself. And even though I know it shouldn’t his comment rubs me the wrong way. Too much how? Too good looking? Too successful? Too out of my league?
“I see those wheels turning Carmelina Dahl and you need to stop that shit right now. You know how I feel about you and in my mind no one is good enough for you. By too much I only mean that getting involved with him could lead to too much drama and too much heartache and God knows we’ve both had enough of that for a lifetime,” he explains in a soft voice and I answer with a shaky smile thinking that it’s eerie how well he knows me.
Our food arrives and he immediately digs in but I leave my plate untouched as I consider his words. We have had enough heartache for a lifetime - him even more so than me. At least my mother just waged the battle on me with emotional terrorism; when his lowlife parents were tweaking they’d kick the living crap out of him. I always wonder if there’s more I could’ve done to protect him like he protected me but he never let me and now we are both damaged goods. When I went off to college Matty went off the deep end: partying hard, experimenting with drugs and getting in all kinds of trouble. It took us a while to get back to where we are now and the last thing I want is to be the one to stir up drama and make us both relive the past.
“Stop thinking and eat Carm before I eat yours for you,” he chides and I know he’s only half-kidding. For a lean guy he can really pack away the food; probably an instinctual response to having so little of it around when we were kids.
“He called you a skinny prick,” I say and Matty almost chokes on his coffee.
“Well next time you see him you can tell him that I said he’s a fat-necked, jockstrap mouth breather.”
“There won’t be a next time,” I say stubbornly and he gives me a sympathetic look.
“Oh honey, if you actually believe that then you really don’t know men like him at all.”
Thankfully his words give me the opening to change the subject and probe about his relationship gone badly. “And you know men? If that’s the case then tell me what happened with Kyle?” I counter.
“Like I said last night we just weren’t a fit. There was no spark.”
“You can’t lie to me - I’ve seen the two of you together and you’re nothing but spark,” I argue and he avoids my eyes.
“Just drop it.”
“Why?”
“Drop it.”
“Matty?” I try.
“Look, he wanted to move in together, okay?” he shouts causing the booth across from us to look over. “He was pushing me too hard and things were moving too fast,” he adds, lowering his voice.
“Oh, sweetie,” I say because there’s nothing else to say. Matty has so much love to give and he lights up every room he enters but when things get serious with a guy he runs to the hills. I’m sure it has something to do with his fear of being abandoned and I’m hardly one to preach about letting people in so instead I place my hand on top of his and duck my head so I can meet his eyes. We lock gazes and a silent communication passes between us before I pick my fork up and start digging into my eggs. Like I said, damaged goods, but at least there are two of us to carry the weight of all this baggage around.
After brunch I hug Matty goodbye in the parking lot since he followed me to El Guapos with his car. I climb into my hatchback and wave as I drive off in the direction of the gym. I’m stuffed full of refried beans, eggs and guacamole and in desperate need of a treadmill to counteract the bloat.
I arrive at the gym and swipe my card, then head into the locker room to change into my hot pink bra top and gray workout tights. I don’t love wearing such little clothing at the gym but the air conditioning barely works so the place always feels like a sauna. And while the bra top may be small it is firm support, which is a good thing because I don’t want one of these puppies getting loose and catching someone in the eye. Some people really have no idea how hard running and jumping can be with a substantial chest which is probably one of the reasons, other than money, that I shied away from organized sports. Thinking about sports makes me think about soccer which makes me think of Shane and thinking about Shane makes me just plain mad - and tingly - and mad that I’m tingly. I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy quite as cocky as him and while my head is telling me that I should hate him my body doesn’t seem to want to comply.
I stuff my bag into a locker and head for the co-ed area where the best cardio equipment is. I slip my earbuds in a pick an up-tempo techno song before cranking up the treadmill for a nice mind clearing run. I’m so lost in the song that I only half-notice out of the corner of my eye when someone takes the machine next to mine. It’s not until a hand waves in front of my face and I almost lose my balance that I see who’s standing there.
“Christ,” I shout, hitting the emergency button and jumping off to the side of the belt. I pluck out my headphones and the deep, throaty chuckle he releases hits me right below the belly button. Shane Mitchell, in all of his shirtless glory, is on the treadmill beside me.
“What are you doing here?” I say accusingly as he runs effortlessly at full speed.
“Working out.”
He’s words come out even and it irks me that he’s not even a little bit out of breath.
“Doesn’t the team have a gym?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“It does.”
“Your building has one too. I saw it on Saturday when I was walking through the lobby.”
“Yep.”
“Then why are you here?” I press and he gives me a wink.
“I like the scenery.”
A laugh escapes my throat and I shake my head as I start my treadmill back up. “I cannot believe you just said that. Worst. Pickup line. Ever.” I snort before slipping my earbuds back in. I try my best to ignore him as I run but I can feel his eyes on me. My patience only lasts about a mile before I’m slowing the machine down to a walking pace so I can unleash on him.
“Go home, Shane.”
“You coming with?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then no,” he says, keeping up a steady pace on his treadmill. My eyes travel down his body over his flawless chest and loose-fitting gym shorts, to his thick, powerful thighs and tanned calves.
“I can play this game as long as you can,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I highly doubt that, babe.”
“Stop calling me that!” I shout.
“You prefer beautiful?” he says and I throw up my hands in response.
“You are so cheesy!” I huff.
He smiles, making his dimples cave in, then punches the button on the machine to slow it down. “I’ll admit I’ve never been accused of that before.”
“How is that possible?” I snort.
“Well I usually don’t have to work this hard for it,” he shrugs.
“Screw you, Shane,” I say, hitting the emergency button once again and jumping off.
“That came out wrong,” he says, grabbing my elbow to stop me.
“Which part exactly? The part where you are trying to manipulate me into having sex with you?” I shout and a guy over by the free weights must overhear because he gives Shane a sympathetic look.
“It’s not like that,” he sighs. “I just want to take you out.”
“Out where?” I challenge. “To a Motel 6?”
“No out. Like to dinner or a movie or whatever normal shit men and women usually do.”
“That might be the most romantic proposition I’ve ever heard,” I say sarcastically and he smiles.
“Great, I’ll pick you up tonight at eight.” He sounds totally unfazed as he takes a step toward me. He runs one of his big calloused hands across my bare stomach making me shiver involuntarily.
“I never said yes.”
“But you will,” he grins, looking down at me.
“I have to work tonight.”
“At the paper?” He says, cocking an eyebrow.
“No, I have another job.”
“So I’ll come to you. Where do you work?”
“At a bar,” I say, averting my eyes.
“What bar?”
“Just a bar.” I push past him to make my way over to the free weights but he only follows and I know that my workout for the day is shot.
“You’re really not going to tell me.” His brows fold in.
“Nope.”
“I’ll find out,” he says and I can hear the challenge in his voice. I give him a shrug, knowing that he won’t. Even Leigh doesn’t know where I work - only Matty does and that’s just because he bartends there.
“Tomorrow night then,” he presses.
“Tomorrow is Monday.”
“So?”
“So no,” I sigh and walk over to pick up a set of twelve pound weights then head over to the incline bench. There’s a guy one bench over lifting weights and he stops when he sees me.
“Oh sorry, are you using this?” I ask him, looking down at the bench and wondering if that’s why he’s gawking at me but he only smiles. The guy is huge with biceps that look like they barely fit through doorways.
“Nah, you can have it, sweetheart,” he says like he’s doing me some huge favor. “If you want to try the barbell out I can spot you,” he adds as his eyes travel down my face and lock on to my breasts. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring.
“If you want to keep on breathing, you sack of meat, you’ll walk away and never look at her again,” Shane interrupts from behind me as his voice takes on a scary tone.
“What are you going to do?” the big guy asks getting up from his bench and getting into Shane’s face. When he stands I notice that he’s a lot shorter than Shane which only accentuates just how wide he is.
“Probably follow you to your car and beat the ever-loving piss out of you,” Shane responds and the look on his face is pretty terrifying. The big guy’s head whips around to look at me.
“Any woman wearing an outfit like yours is just begging to be stared at,” he says accusingly and I plaster on a fake smile in return.