Fight or Fall (12 page)

It took decades of lessons in restraint, combined with the need to find out the truth, that allowed my hands to stay where they were and not wander all over her like I wanted them to.

I tilted her head, whispering harshly against her ear, “Why didn’t you call me?” She had just ran off, left my house, and it was dead air for more than three weeks until tonight. I wasn’t hoping for anything, but a simple text would have been fair. I was worried she didn’t get home safely. I didn’t know where she lived. I could’ve asked my sister, but first, I wasn’t talking to Bee yet, and second, my sister would probably say, “What the hell would you want Ava’s house address for?”

She returned my stare, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I was, umm, embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? For kissing me?” I knew it. She was delirious when she kissed me.

“No.” She huffed, her hand started caressing the front of my suit-covered chest. “Why would I be embarrassed of kissing you? First I screamed and screamed at you, then I groped you like no other, and to top it all off I fell asleep. Now tell me, Swimmer Boy, how is that not embarrassing?”

When she called me Swimmer Boy it always made me grow hackles of incomparable irritation – it was just in the way she says it. I was a swimmer, but hell no, I ain’t no boy. Now her calling me a swimmer was a flat-out lie. I was no longer a swimmer. Her saying it just brought the reality of why I was here, fighting, having my body battered, in the first place. I slowly pulled my hand off of her ass and tried to straighten her dress.

“I’m sorry.” Sensing the sudden change in my mood, she stated, her hands reaching up to my face, “It just came out.” Swimmer Boy. I was once. I no longer was. I didn’t know when FINA or the IOC would lift the ban. Maybe in a year, maybe in five, maybe in a decade.

“Not your fault.” No one else’s but mine.

“I, ahh, didn’t call you, but not because I didn’t want to. I’ve been traveling for the past few weeks and I’ve thought about texting or calling you, but I didn’t even know where to start. It’s not like we’re close friends, Milo. I go there to your old house once in a while to unwind, since it’s the only place I can go to where I feel like I haven’t lost myself completely. It reminds me of happy times, me, your sister, your mom bringing us cookies…” A faraway, longing look grazed her eyes. “I thought no one was there. I knew Brynn wouldn’t be there, so I didn’t expect anyone, least of all you. And when things happened between us all of a sudden, I felt like I was living a dream.”

“A dream?” I repeated.

What? Since when did she dream about me?

“What are you talking about?” Her revelation stunned me. Ava was dreaming of me?

“Ms. Troudeau, you there?” The voice preceded a tall, bulky guy who now stood by the side entrance where I had come from. “It’s time to return to the party.” He sounded like he was giving us a forewarning. I recognized the dude – he was always by Maxwell’s side or close to his vicinity.

She stepped away from me, finding balance on her feet. Straightening her dress on the sides, her hands sifting through her hair, and her gaze unflinchingly steady, she responded, “You’ve always been my dream.”

She turned her back, the clanging of her heels loud against the marbled floors matching the thundering pulse reverberating inside my chest. I stood there like a statue, unable to move from where I was standing. Ava, Prissy Princess extraordinaire, daughter to one of the richest men in the country, best friend to my sister, just confessed to me I was her dream.

How in the motherfucking pits of hell did a man like me deserve that?

“Thank goodness you’re here! I thought you were gonna stand me up!” Dia exclaimed, her green eyes flashing in relief. Her breasts were spilling over the ridiculously small white top with the words printed in bright pink, “Wanna lick them?” Been there. Done that. Never ever going back.

“I said I was gonna be here,” I muttered under my breath. “Traffic was just ridiculous. They here yet?”

Dia’s eyes furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

“Well I just wanna make sure that they’re here,” I answered, walking towards the counter where a pimply kid was flirting with a young woman.

“I already have my shoes,” Dia mentioned, pointing to her white bowling shoes while casually hanging on to my arm, which I had promptly removed from her grasp.

“Dia, this isn’t a date.” I shook my head. “I only agreed to this because you already said yes for me, in front of Maxwell and other people, and I didn’t want you walking in shame. But next time you say yes for me, think twice, because I won’t be doing this shit again.”

The other night, after I came back into the party, Dia was mingling with Maxwell, the blonde guy who was always hanging around Ava, Senator Powers, and Ava. I found out that the blonde dude was the senator’s son. It was the most stilted, awkward conversation I’ve ever had. My ex-girlfriend pretending to everyone that we were still together, Ava avoiding my eyes the whole time Dia was talking, and Emmett talking about his and Ava’s childhood. I wanted to rip the goofy smile off of Emmett’s face every time his eyes fell on Ava’s. Thank fuck Ava didn’t let his hands touch any part of her body, or I would have dragged his blonde head and slammed it on the table. When Emmett suggested that we should hang out, apparently he and Dia had gotten chummy when Ava and I were outside the balcony, I was about to say no until the Senator mentioned that Ava and Emmett were going on another date.

She’s not going on a date with a fucking tool.

Dia said yes for me, and I didn’t even bother taking it back. Sure, I was making it sound like I was irritated that she agreed to go on a group date for me, but inside I was actually going, “Hell yeah!” My left leg was still throbbing in pain when I woke up, but nothing would keep me away. So after punching bags with Emmett’s face as the target this morning, I was actually feeling slightly better. The thought of Emmett holding and touching Ava was enough to kill the pain, desensitize the reminder of that Brazilian bastard’s punishing kicks.

There was no way I was missing this lame-ass bowling date.

“Okay, I’m teaming up with you. I have no idea how to do this bowling thingy,” Dia said, her red lips in a pout. What the hell possessed me to date her? I was a blind fool. Her red hair tricked me into believing that she’d be great girlfriend material. She was leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

“Go ahead. Wait up there for me there.” I pointed with my right hand towards the lanes.

Strike Zone was a popular bowling chain. Ava had requested for us to meet her there, fifteen minutes away from downtown Las Vegas. There were other closer locations, but they were all inside her old man’s hotels. When Emmett asked why she didn’t want to play at her father’s hotels, she wittingly answered, “Because all the machines will be rigged for me then I’d win all of them even if I didn’t know how to bowl.” She had thrown me a short look in passing, but I’d figured she wanted to be out of her father’s sight. There was an underlying animosity that hung in the air between Ava and her father. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was as if she was scared of him.

The teeny bopper flirting with the teenage guy cashier eyed me and winked at me. Jeez, did they start flirting this young? I made sure that when my sister was this young lady’s age,
fifteen or sixteen
, the guys in her school knew who I was. That’s right, the guy who would beat their asses if they went anywhere near my sister or looked at her the wrong way. But Bee’s a good girl. She wasn’t wild or anything. She liked to stay home, bake, and gossip with Ava. Bee’s time in the hospital didn’t diminish her friendship with Ava. It might have actually gotten stronger, and I sure as hell was surprised when Ava and Bee entered nursing school together. Ava could have gone to college before Bee, but Bee told me that Ava waited for her so they could go to college together.

“How much for size twelve?” I asked, grabbing my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, putting the car keys on the counter.

“Eight bucks,” he replied, tapping on the cash register machine.

I pulled out a ten and handed it to him. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks, man.” Nodding his head at me then turning to the flirty girl, he asked, “Camille, can you grab him a size twelve please?”

She gave me a once-over and skipped behind a closed door to the right of the entrance.

“You with them?” he asked, his head bobbing towards the direction where I could see Dia’s red hair. I couldn’t see all of them because of the wooden railing that acted as a divider.

“Yeah.”

“That girl there…she looks like a model. Dang, she’s hot.” He let out a low whistle. “No disrespect to the redhead, but the lady with those gray eyes, I think I recognize her…”

“You know,” I started, “If you wanna score with your girl over there,” my head tilting to the Camille girl who’s now walking towards us with my bowling shoes on her hands, “don’t tell her you find another girl hot. But yeah, I agree with you.”

I hadn’t even seen Ava, but I saw what the teenage kid saw. I’d seen it through the years. Her flawless beauty, in-your-face presence, and her innate gracefulness, it’s all there. How come I never made a move on her? Because she never gave me the time of day.

Walking towards Dia who was sitting on a small bench, chatting with Emmett, I caught sight of Ava’s legs wrapped in tight-ass dark jeans, a green sleeveless top, and cute-ass gold bowling shoes. Her back was facing me; she had a bowling ball in hand, as if testing the weight.

“Ava, make sure you have a grip on the ball,” Emmett called out before his gaze returned to Dia’s.

Ava sure had a grip on my balls, because right now they were tightening up as she bent to fake throw the ball. I hurriedly laced my shoes up, leaving my Merrell’s on a chair and moved closer to where she was standing.

“You have to put your legs slightly apart and you’re gonna bend your knees a little,” I instructed, her face leaning to the side and up, eyes surprised to see me.

She giggled lightly, her face flaming in heat.“That sounds so dirty coming from you.”

“You haven’t seen dirty,” I stated. I wore loose-fitting jeans so it would hide any evidence, but if she leaned back and moved a little closer she’d feel my erection nudging her ass.

“Your girlfriend’s here,” she said, turning her face towards the lanes so I wasn’t able to see her expression.

“Ex.”

“She sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“Why? Does it bug you, duchess?” I asked, grabbing a heavier ball, gripping it with my right hand and letting it hang straight down by my side.

“Duchess?”

“You don’t like princess so I’m calling you duchess.”

“If she’s your ex, why is she here? Why is she always hanging around you?” Her small voice sounded irritated as she raised the ball in the air again.

I stood behind her, holding on the heavier ball with my right hand, teaching her how to throw it. “Trust me, she doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

I felt her neck tense.

“How about you? Why is blonde dickwad always hanging around you?”

“He’s a friend.”

“A friend?” I asked, setting the ball I was holding down on the ball return. I grabbed another one from the ball return on another lane, this one was the lightest.

“A childhood friend.”

“You into him?” Gesturing her to put the ball she was holding back in the rack, which she did, I placed the lightest ball in her right hand.

“No,” she replied, her voice clear. Tendrils of hair hung loosely from the ponytail she was wearing. Good thing I was still holding the ball or I’d have lifted those fallen strands and tucked them back in. She was turning my mind and my dick into her own little toys to command.

“I’ll take it from here,” Emmett said, appearing on Ava’s left side. His eyebrows were raised, hands in his jeans, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Ava, I thought I taught you earlier how to throw it.”

“You did.” Her eyes drifting to Emmett’s then facing back the lanes, and she said, “I just can’t seem to make the balls not go to the side thingy.”

“You mean the gutter?” Dia now joining us, she rolled her eyes at Ava’s comment. “Surely you can remember that’s what it’s called.”

I was just about to say something when Ava straightened her back, still holding the ball on her right hand, she turned towards Dia, her gray eyes turning darker, her right brow lifting. “Surely you can remember you’re not someone’s girlfriend anymore.”

Shit.

Dia’s green eyes flared, displeasure cemented on her face as her mouth compressed in a tight grin.

Emmett broke the surmounting hostility. “Let’s just play. Ava and I against you and Dia. Is that cool with you, man?”

I bobbed my head in the affirmative. Ava’s claws were out. She wasn’t a fan of Dia. Her face always held a sour note whenever I mentioned Dia to either Bee or Leif when the four of us hung out before. I didn’t understand why she’d have any opinion about Dia when Dia and Ava never really spent any time with each other. Maybe she’d gotten her information from Bee. Bee had tried to hide it from me, but I had a feeling she wasn’t Dia’s biggest fan either.

By the time we were on the sixth frame, I was ready to pick Emmett up, body slam him on one of the lanes, or fucking throw his ass out on the pin deck while aiming all the balls at him for a couple of strikes. The way he lifted Ava up in his arms each time he threw a strike, the measly excuses he had for touching her waist or her arms while he pretended to show her how to aim the ball, and when he accidentally bumped Ava’s ass with his hip when she bent her knees and released the ball, it had me clenching my fists so tightly that I must have cut off the circulation from my hands to the rest of my body.