The announcer continues: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, may we have a round of applause to welcome, Eddy ‘Bikini’ Bottoms.” He too almost trots down the aisle. I look into the ring and see that Casper seems to be circling it—waiting for his prey. His opponent takes his place with ease, and both fighters flex their fingers at their sides, their hands taped so their bare knuckles are exposed. I have a feeling this is going to be a good fight. Each of them slides his gloves on and the crowd explodes in cheers around us when the two opponents meet in the middle and the bell rings. Casper’s opponent swings first. Casper ducks and jabs Bottoms’s side with a right, then a left. A few more rounds pass, and then out of nowhere Casper lands one straight punch to the jaw that knocks his opponent down just like that.
Ivy gasps in disbelief when Bottoms tries to lift himself up on his arms as the counting begins. With each number, she pushes herself farther back into me. Does she know what she’s doing to me? I couldn’t even tell you what’s going on in the ring. I feel like that eighteen-year-old boy that got hard with every move she made. The counting stops and Bottoms’s trainer is by his side, as he lies flat on the mat. I think the ref has already called the fight. But I’m not sure until Bottoms fails to rise and the ref approaches Casper and yanks his arm up in victory while the announcer boasts, “The victor, ladies and gentlemen! I give you, your one, your only, Casper the Friendly Ghost!”
Ivy twists her head back and looks up at me with those feline eyes. “Is it over?” she asks.
With her warm breath on my neck and her lips so close to mine, I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but her. When I lean forward so she can hear me, I accidentally press myself into her and I swear I hear a small whimper escape her throat. I murmur in her ear, “I’ll take you back to the bus if you’re ready to go.”
She looks over at the other guys, who have their eyes glued to the ring, and then turns backs around, now dangerously close. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
I chuckle and nod. “I’m sure.”
Just as we move to leave, Leif notices and cups his hands around his mouth. “Pssst . . . Ivy, where are you going?”
Ivy turns. “Back to the bus.”
“You sure? I promised Casper I’d introduce him to you and we planned to go out later,” Leif responds.
“Next time?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll set something up.”
She smiles and waves goodbye.
We make our way back to the bus quickly and when we hit the front lounge she turns toward me. “Thank you for bringing me back. I’m really tired and just want to sit around and do nothing for a few hours.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. I’m feeling the same way.”
“Want to watch a movie or you going to go to bed?”
“Watching a movie sounds great.”
“Terrific. There’s a new movie with that actress Jules Atwood on demand I’ve been dying to catch.”
“Jules Atwood?”
“Yes, she’s the actress cast in No Led Zeppelin.”
“Right,” I reply with a smirk. “My cousin’s movie.”
She nods. “Just give me a minute to change and I’ll meet you in the back lounge.”
I make a skeptical noise over her choice of movie and she flashes me a grin before leaving the room.
“Okay, Mr. Push-ups, let’s hear your story,” she mock demands as she enters the dimly lit lounge I’m already sitting in watching the all-time classic movie Stripes.
I swivel around in my chair and glance up. “Chicks dig me, because I rarely wear underwear and when I do it’s usually something unusual.” I grin, quoting John Winger’s most awesome line from the movie.
She giggles and flops into the chair next to mine. “God, I haven’t watched this movie in years.”
“Me either.” I almost say Not since the last time I watched it with you, but I don’t.
“Can we watch this instead?”
I give her a charming smile. “Sure, if you insist.” Like she has to ask me twice about skipping what I can only imagine to be a chick flick.
She has no makeup on, but she doesn’t need it. And when her face is a blank canvas, her eyes seem to always sparkle. Her hair is piled loosely on top of her head, and as she swivels to hoist her feet up on the table, the oversized neckline of her sweatshirt exposes a hint of lace. Fuck, we haven’t been alone like this until now, and I want nothing more than to pull her off that chair and onto my lap.
We sit next to each other for the rest of the movie and even talk over it at times. But the closest our bodies come to touching is when I kick my boots up on the coffee table next to her bare feet.
“Don’t put your shoes on the furniture,” she comments and taps her toes against my boots, shoving my feet down.
I make an amused face. “Yes, ma’am. We don’t want to mark up the fine furnishings.”
She giggles and I toe my boots off, then kick my sock-clad feet back up, where her toes remain very close to mine. Friends, I keep reminding myself. I can do this—establish what we had through friendship first. But no matter how many times I say it in my head, that doesn’t stop me from feeling the way I feel toward her.
The credits roll. Her feet graze mine for a few long moments—on purpose or by accident, I don’t know, but my body reacts instantly to her touch. She looks at me, biting her lip, and the sight sets me on fire. I rise from my chair, ready to pounce, but she stands at the same time and yawns. “It’s late. I’m going to call it a night. Thank you for watching that with me.”
“Good night, Ivy. I really enjoyed the movie and the company.”
She scurries out of the room without turning back, and for a minute I consider chasing after her, but I head to bed instead.