Take Me On

She kicks my shin underneath the table and I laugh as I shake off the sting. “You’re hot and I like looking.”


Haley turns an adorable shade of red and she traces a make-believe line in her corn. Thinking of how Rachel hates to be embarrassed, I offer Haley an out. “What type of tournament am I facing? Knife throwing? Quilt making? Dueling pistols at sunrise?”

“Mixed martial arts.”

I scratch my chin. Now I understand why Haley didn’t want to discuss this in front of anyone else. If I had been thinking straight, I would have forced her to eat lunch at a separate table days ago, but my head’s been jacked up as I contemplated my own problem: the forecasted temperature plummet tonight.

I had hoped for boxing, but I had doubts it would be that easy. Not that boxing is easy, but MMA is a whole other animal. It’s the best of the best. The ultimate badass contest. It’s not just discovering who is the better man in boxing, but who’s the better man in boxing, jujitsu, Muay Thai, grappling and whatever the hell else combat fighting thrown in for good measure.

“Cage and all?” I ask.

“Cage and all,” she echoes. After a second, she peers at me from under those long dark eyelashes. Does she curl them or do they naturally have that sexy wave? “You don’t have to do this. You could transfer to another school.”

“How?” I snap. “My dad threw me out. I doubt he’d sign the transfer papers.”

Haley’s face falls and she drops her fork onto her plate. “That was awful of me to say—”

“Stop. I didn’t mean it that way.” I didn’t mean to upset her.

“If being stuck at this school is the reason why you’re taking this on, then I’ll figure out another way to fix this. Give me the weekend, I’ll think of something—”

“Haley, I’m in this and it’s not because I’m stuck at Eastwick.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I’m in this.”

“You never listen to reason, do you?”

“I listen to any reasoning that makes sense and yours doesn’t.”

“Impossible,” she mutters. After several beats she continues, “My grandfather owns a small gym in the industrial park. He’s given me permission to train you there. I get off at eight tonight, so I thought we could meet up at nine.”

Wow. Lots of things going on in that statement. I fork my own patty, then cut it up into pieces. “Where do you work?”

“I’m a waitress at Romeo’s Pizza. Sorry. I should have asked about your work schedule.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t have one until Tuesday.” Benefit of being a trust fund baby—work was optional. Funny, I thought of college, but I had never thought of supporting myself.

“Oh.” She lowers her gaze. Regret heats my neck. I bet every guy she knows has had a job since they were sixteen. In her eyes, that makes me the unemployed loser who lives in his mom’s basement and bums rides off friends. Worse, she’s aware I don’t have a basement to live in. And here I thought Dad was the only one I unimpressed.

“My hours are after school and flexible.” At least that’s what Denny said. “How do you get around?” That’s called changing the subject.

“City bus.” Haley’s voice becomes muffled as she talks into her cup before she drinks.

City bus. Something clicks and I edge my tray away. I’ve got half a tank left in my car and the remaining cash I have, I need for food. I get paid next week, but I won’t be breaking bank. Now Haley’s supposed to be training me and I don’t have money for the gym or the equipment. My fist clenches and this overwhelming urge to hit something—someone, anything—rages through my veins.

A hand folds over mine and my eyes jerk to Haley’s.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I suck in a breath. “No. I’m fucked.”

“Are you running out of places to stay?”

I nod, unable to admit I lied to her earlier in the week about where I’ve been sleeping.

“There are shelters.” Her voice cracks. “But they’re downtown. The bus routes to there are a little...dangerous. If you drove, your car would be jacked in minutes.”

I figured. “How are they? The shelters?” Hell. She’s never told me she’s stayed in them. I’m tipping information from Jessica.

We stare at each other for seconds, longer. Her face is blank, but her eyes are moving. She’s thinking. Haley is always thinking and, like I did before, I offer the out. “If you let me pick you up, then we could reach the gym by eight-thirty.”

It’d be worth the last bit of gas I have to end a conversation I never should have started.

She memorizes her plate as she eats and contemplates my last statement. Who knows—maybe she’s still pondering the shelters. I’ve noticed this about Haley over the past couple of days—someone asks her a question and instead of immediately answering, she mulls it over. Possibly two minutes pass and I have a hunch she’s an overanalyzer.

“It’s a car ride, Haley. Not an invitation to stay over after we have sex.”