My insides relaxed.
“You been on and off for two years, Jake,” Mickey remarked.
My insides seized again.
“We’ve been off for five months, Mick,” Jake returned, his voice still quiet, but now tight and also terse.
“Right,” Mick murmured but it was the odd mixture of both taunting and disbelieving.
I wasn’t entirely certain what was happening. I just knew it was dangerous and I also knew I was the only one there who could do anything about it.
Therefore, I did and I did this by turning to Jake and noting, “I think I’m warmed up, Jake. Can I punch a punching bag now?”
Jake looked down at me and I saw his face was also tight, most specifically his strong, square jaw.
Oh dear.
It relaxed but only slightly when he replied, “Yeah, babe. I’ll show you how to work the bag then we’ll finish you up on the speed bag.”
I had no idea what was what but I still said, “Excellent.”
He jerked up his chin and stated, “Let’s move.” But he was the one who moved me, doing this by putting a hand in the small of my back and giving me a gentle shove.
I got moving.
Jake said over his shoulder, “Later, Mick.”
“Later, Jake,” Mickey replied and then, clearly to me, “If you come to the match, I’ll have a ticket waiting for you, Josephine.”
Jake made an annoyed noise low in his throat that was, like all things Jake, attractive. Intensely so.
Even thinking this, I called noncommittally, “Thank you, Mickey, and nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” I heard him say as Jake stopped me at a long, cylindrical bag.
I decided my best course of action was to leave my discourse with Mickey at that and turn my full attention to Jake.
He still looked annoyed. Vastly so. He was also looking at the punching bag like he wanted to rip it from its chains and throw it out the window.
To stop him from doing this, I said, “All right. What do I do now?”
Jake looked down at me and it took a moment for his expression to clear, but finally it did and he gave me a small grin.
“You ready to kick the shit outta that bag?”
“Kicking is involved?” I inquired, somewhat surprised.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know that bags such as that were used in that manner. It was just other types of fighters, not boxers, used it thus.
“It will be the way you’re gonna use it.”
I looked at the bag thinking this might be fun.
So I looked back up at Jake, smiled and said, “Splendid.”
Finally, Jake’s face totally cleared and he smiled back.
Then he said, “Right, Slick. I’ll show you how it’s done and then it’s your turn.”
At that point, Jake pushed me slightly back and commenced “showing me how it’s done.”
And thus, at that point, watching Jake, I knew without any doubts why I’d allowed myself to be pulled from my bed and dragged to a boxer’s gym at an ungodly hour of the morning.
I also knew I would allow the same to happen tomorrow.
And the next day.
And the next.
Just as long as I got to watch Jake “showing me how it’s done.”
* * * * *
Although it was unnecessary, after our workout, when Jake took me home, he walked me to the front door of Lavender House as well as through it.
I felt quite strange seeing as I was sweaty and I was never sweaty. My body also felt fatigued and my body never felt fatigued unless the day was a rather long one or the evening included dancing. And I was not in my usual attire which put me off-balance. Amber’s choices were lovely but they weren’t me.
So when Jake closed the door against the chill of the morning and turned to me, feeling off-balance and having a morning that started with Jake waking me up by tickling my nose with a lock of my hair and ended with him and I both getting sweaty (alas, not in a way I would chose but it was far from bad, especially watching Jake do it), I had a near overwhelming desire to move into him. To curl my arms around his neck. To press my damp body to his then press my lips to his.
Fortunately, before I gave into this urge, Jake spoke.
“Amber’s done bein’ grounded today. You still good to look after Eath this afternoon?”
I stared at him a moment in surprise.
Had a week passed since we discussed this?
It had.
“Of course,” I replied.
“He gets off school at two forty-five,” he told me. “I’ll text Amber and let her know she’s off-duty.”
I nodded.
“Got shit to do at the gym, got shit to do at the club,” Jake carried on. “And the kid’s league is startin’ up again so I got shit to do for that. You good to keep him for dinner?” he asked.
Sharing dinner with Ethan.
I would very much enjoy that.
“Certainly,” I answered.
“It’ll help a lot, Slick,” he shared.
“Ethan’s very good company therefore this is hardly a bother, Jake,” I assured him with complete honesty.
He grinned then said, “I’ll pick him up around seven thirty.”
Hmm.
Another early dinner.
Oh well.
“All right,” I replied.
“Tomorrow night, we’re goin’ to the football game.”
I blinked before I asked, “Pardon?”
“Friday night high school football. You, me and Ethan are goin’.”
My heart made a flutter and not at the prospect of going to a high school football game. “That sounds fun,” I partly lied because football would likely bore me silly.
Being with Jake was another story.
And knowing I’d be spending even more time with him was yet another story.
He grinned again and moved closer.
My heart fluttered again.
“You pick up Eath after school. I’ll pick you both up later. We’ll grab some food and go.”
I forced myself to speak normally when I asked, “Amber and Conner aren’t going with us?”
“Amber’s goin’ with her friends. Conner is either goin’ with one of his girls or he’s goin’ with his buds. They’re in high school. They don’t hang with their old man. But their old man goes to games to keep an eye on them, specifically Amber, who’d probably be under the bleachers doin’ shit that even thinkin’ about it for a nanosecond makes my gut twist and my mouth taste like acid so I try not to think about it. I also fail.”
“Is she…well,” I started carefully and finished with, “promiscuous?”