Survival (Twisted Book 1) (6 page)

I couldn’t respond. I just stared at the floor.

“You will be okay, Skye,” he rested his hands on my knees. “If you want me to help you, I will. I’ll show you a few things, but promise me something?”

“What?”

“You’ll never get in that ring…this one or any one.”

“Why?”

“Just promise me.”

“I promise,” I nodded. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. I grabbed his wrists before he pulled away and closed my eyes as he kissed the bridge of my nose, then the tip.
One eye, then the other. One cheek, then the next, and finally his lips gently touched the corner of my mouth. He moved over my lips to the other corner and I released a sigh. He sat back and I opened my eyes.

“Come on,” he stood up and helped me to my feet. “It’s getting late.”

My steps slowed as I walked behind him, watching the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt. He walked with purpose, like he was on a mission, like he was fighting something…or fighting
for
something. He was going to help me and I was going to let him. One large hand reached back for me and I set my hand in his, watching as his fingers cocooned mine and I hoped I would find my fight, too.

The attraction hit me like a right hook…and it stung like a hive of bees.

February 15
th
, 2003.

“Okay, first lesson. Stance,” Curtis said. We were in Geoff’s gym and I was standing in front of a punchbag. “Don’t stand like a girl.”

He had arranged some sports clothes for me, a pair of black shorts, a white t-shirt and thin-soled lace-up boots.

He shoved a pair of boxing gloves on my hands, black ones. They were lighter than I thought they would be and I flexed my fingers.

I thought I looked the part, but obviously I didn’t. I was standing like a girl. What did that even mean?

“What does a girl stand like?”

“That,” he nodded at me with a hint of a smile.
“Weight on one leg, hands on hips. Balance your weight evenly.”

I dropped my arms and stood up straight. Curtis bent down and pulled one foot forward. He stood up and pushed down on my shoulders so my knees bent.

“Bounce.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “You have to be light on your feet. You don’t bounce while you fight, it burns energy, but do it now. Feel how light you need to be.”

I bounced from one foot to the other, “Like this?”

“Just like that,”

I was impressed he kept his eyes on mine, although secretly, I wouldn’t have minded if he lowered his gaze slightly.

“Keep going. Right or left handed?” He grabbed my gloved hands and lifted them up. I nodded to my right hand and he pushed it back. “Dominant hand goes back.”

He pushed the creases of my elbows so my hands came up in front of my face. I liked having his hands on me, but it was hard to focus and take in what he was telling me, and keep bouncing, with him so close.

Curtis took a step back to look at me. His eyes darkened; it was a dangerous look that almost made me stop and kneel before him. What was wrong with him? His eyes had turned to a chocolate storm and his arms came up, folding over his chest. I didn’t know if he was angry; I thought maybe I wasn’t bouncing properly. I concentrated on being light but I felt weighed down by the tension that had consumed him. I saw it, as his eyes moved over every inch of my body, leaving a burning trail that made me feel like marked territory: it was the gloves, the fight. His eyes kept returning to the ominous black leather that my hands were encased in; whatever he was thinking was torturing him. My instincts were telling me to go to him, to comfort him, to clear his mind in whatever way he needed, but as I prepared to go with my instincts, he spoke.

“Once you start, you can't stop,” he said, his eyes glassed over. “You have to battle on forever. From this moment on, there’s no excuse to give up. You have to believe you can do this before I can teach you how.”

“I’m ready, Curtis,” I breathed as his eyes fell on mine. I held my ground. “I’m ready to fight.”

A shiver rippled through him and I watched his eyes change; they lightened. He had returned from wherever his mind had taken him.

“Stop bouncing. Dip your chin, look over your gloves,” he watched me intensely as I did, and smiled softly. “You look cute.”

I gasped, “Uh…”

“The most important lesson is to relax. And breathe,” he patted my back and I let out the breath I was holding.

“Got it,” I sighed. “Breathe.”

“Good. Now, jab.”

“What?”

“Jab.”

“What the hell is jab?”

He squeezed the bridge of his nose but smiled, “I’ve got my work cut out. It’s a simple punch with your left hand. The most important punch in boxing.”

He moved my left hand slowly as he explained it to me.

“Keep your body still, just straighten your left arm. Turn your fist so your hand is palm down and exhale.”

He let go and I tried on my own. I noted his smile as my fist connected with the
punchbag. It felt good.

“Again,” I did. “Good.
Again, but with power. Exhale sharply, focus on your breathing. Stay relaxed, just tighten your fist as you punch.”

He watched as I continued to punch the bag, keeping his eyes on my hands and adjusting my posture when I let it slack. I was enjoying it; I wasn’t doing much, but I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I might.

“You’re doing good. Another?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, the right straight. Your strongest punch,” he stepped round to the other side of me and extended my right arm like he did with my left. “With this one, you need to pivot.”

“How?”

“Like this,” I jumped as he placed one hand on my hip, the other on my shoulder, and turned the top half of my body. I had the sudden urge to close my eyes and savour his touch. I did, just for a second but the coolness in his voice made me rethink and open them again. “Same as before, but move your body into it. Keep going.”

I was soon doing it by myself, but Curtis set his hands on my hips and that’s where they stayed. I let the power I felt from him move through me until I was worn out. I was breathless, shaky and hot from the warmth of his hands cupping my hips and applying gentle, intoxicating pressure. I stopped punching and closed my eyes without thinking, to concentrate on the feel of him so close. I enjoyed it more than I should have; I was heady, floating,
fuzzy.

I held my breath when his lips whispered over my shoulder and a whimper escaped when he kissed the crook of my neck.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he let go of me and stepped back.

“But-”

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Let’s eat.”

I watched him disappear out the front door of the gym as a couple of fighters made their way in.

***

Curtis taught me a few moves and how to put them together over the next couple of weeks. It was nothing like what I saw the other guys doing. Their tricks were fancy yet seemed as natural to them as tying their shoe laces, although I wondered how half of them managed to fold their bodies to tie them without muscle getting in the way. Curtis and I kept to ourselves; we said hello and goodbye but the others left a corner of the gym free for us and we just stayed there until Curtis decided we had done enough for the day. He always said it after he touched me. Things were fine while he was standing next to me, checking my posture and telling me what to do. But something always changed when he put his hands on me. I loved it, craved it, but the light switched off as soon as he did it and it was a matter of minutes before the lesson was over. I knew it was because he felt my body change for him. It reacted in a way that was almost entirely new for me and I knew he sensed it. He didn’t want me to want him, when he didn’t want me back. It was too late; I did want him. Badly. Madly. I was borderline crazy while I waited for every little electric touch.

I felt stronger. I don’t know if it was my improved fitness making me physically stronger, or if having something to focus on besides the pain made me a mental warrior.
Almost. I was clever enough not to delude myself into thinking Curtis wanted me like I did him. I was fearful enough that he would leave me like everyone else, if I told him the truth. How much I ached for him. How every second of a day spent with him would be my only source of light. I was his dead friend’s sister; he wouldn’t forget that, so neither would I.

“Do you want to train?” He asked one night as we arrived back at the gym after dinner.

“Can we spar?”

“You want to spar?
With me?”

“Sure,” I hesitated, waiting for the rejection. I knew he didn’t want to touch me. “I mean, the
punchbag doesn’t duck. And…it could be…fun.”

“I don’t train anymore, Skye.”

“Why not?”

“Sure,” he deferred. “Let’s spar.”

“You’re dropping your guard,” he pointed out as he tapped my forehead with his gloved hand.
“Hands up.”

I raised my hands, dropped my elbows and gave him a jab, which he blocked, and then tapped my cheek. He was going easy on me and I still sucked.

“Keep your guard up,” he barked, but I saw the enjoyment in his eyes as he got another gentle hit in. “I could go to town on you and take the round with you standing like that.”

“This is supposed to be fun,” I punched his arm, but I didn’t think he felt it.

“It is fun. I can laugh at you,” he said. I pouted and stood up straight. “Bend your knees.”

“Come on then, Muhammad,” I bent my knees. “Show me where I’m open.”

“Muhammad?”

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

“Ah,” his laughter made my toes curl and my knees weak. “Come on then, tough girl, in position. I’ll show you how you’d get your ass kicked.”

The excitement buzzed in my belly with the anticipation. I raised my hands, relaxed my shoulders and breathed out as I looked over the gloves.

“Your defence is off. I can see that without touching you,” he tapped one side of my head, then the other, too quickly for me to block.

We stared at each other intensely over our gloves.

“Watch for the body shot.”

“What?”

He tapped my head and as I moved to block, he got my stomach. It knocked the wind out of me and as I bent over, he caught me in a headlock.

“See?” He laughed and jabbed me in the ribs. “The ref would pull me back now, but you’re done. Exhausted and dazed.
Ready to give up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

I swung my right hand across my body and punched his back by his kidney. He let out a guttural hiss and loosened his grip, so I pulled back and punched his stomach. He bent over and grunted a laugh but as I swung to get his head, he grabbed my waist and reared me back towards the ring and my back hit the canvas. I grinned and stretched out my arms, curling my fingers around the bottom rope as Curtis stepped back. My smiled dropped, replaced by the sudden intense urge to kiss him. His chest was rising and falling with precise, controlled breaths. His gaze matched mine; his eyes glistened and he pulled his gloves off, tossing them carelessly to the floor before holding out his hands for mine. I let him take them off; the only sound in the gym was our erratic breathing and the thud as the gloves hit the floor. I resumed my position on the ropes and sat on the edge of the canvas. My eyes never left Curtis as I watched his eyes flash with barely-contained control, lust and temptation. I wasn’t backing down.

He stepped closer and I opened my legs to let him stand between them. He wrapped his hands over mine and leaned closer.

“You want to play dirty?” He whispered in my ear, sending wild heat spreading through my body until it settled as a searing ache between my legs. “I’m the one with the strength.”

“Prove it.”

He groaned, low at the back of his throat and pulled me off the side. His superhuman legs carried us with ease up to his flat so quickly, there was no time to change my mind, even if I wanted to.

Men are confusing creatures. And they think we’re the crazy ones…I bought my ticket to Crazy Town…economy, because I was broke.

March 1
st
, 2003.

Curtis dropped me to my feet as we fell through the final door and separated ourselves from the outside world.

He stopped, just for a second, before his lips crashed to mine and his hands fisted the sides of my t-shirt. He tasted good; like peppermint from the pack of mints he kept in the gym office. The faint smell of sweat from his exertions gave him a virile edge that made me grip the bottom of his shirt and pull frantically. He raised his arms and our lips parted just long enough to get it off. My hands found the smooth planes of his abdomen and as I traced the contours of his body, his mouth moved to my neck and his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh.