Down and Out

The next day at work is torture. Every time I see Savannah, I’m reminded of how she smelled, how she tasted, how she sounded when she came. . .
But the real kick in the pants is how unaffected she seems. I thought things might be a little awkward, but she’s acting like nothing happened. Granted, she’s not going out of her way to talk to me and I haven’t caught her staring at me once today, but the few times I’ve talked to her, she seemed fine.
“Christ, stop starin’ at her, dude. It’s creepy.”
The chair across my desk squeaks as Marcus sits down. I tear my gaze off Savannah’s profile as I watch her through the open blinds of my office. He better be glad she’s so far away, because he wasn’t exactly quiet.
“I’m not staring,” I mutter, looking back down to the paperwork on my desk that I’m pretending to do. I just wanted to make sure she’s eating the granola bar I gave her, because she looked kinda pissy when I told her to take a break and eat something. Thankfully, she is.
“Then what the hell do you call it? ’Cause it sure looks like staring to me.”
His smirk has me glaring at him. “I’m . . . observing.” My mouth snaps shut as I realize how stupid that sounds.
“Observing, stalking. . . Same thing, bro.” He folds his hands behind his head and props his nasty-ass feet on my desk. “At this point I almost think you should bag her just to get it out of your system. Then maybe you can get rid of that dopey look on your face.”
Yeah, I don’t think that would help. I’ve already been inside her. All it’s done is stoke the fire, not put it out.
I glance back down at the papers spread out before me when Marcus opens his big, fat mouth. “Wait—have you already hit that? Is that why you’ve had this stupid look on your face all day?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Scowling at him, I get up and close the door, trying to keep it from drifting out into the gym.
“You did, didn’t you?” He shakes his head. “I don’t get you, man. I don’t know why you even hired her in the first place. Seeing a pretty thing like that every day and not being able to touch her. . .” Biting his lip, he shakes his head again. “It’s just asking for trouble.”
Well, I’m a masochist, obviously. “I didn’t sleep with her,” I say, sinking back into my chair as I look out the window at Savannah again. “We had dinner and things . . . kinda got outta hand.”
His eyes widen. “What the hell are you doing having dinner with her? She’s your employee, Declan. You shouldn’t see her outside of work at all.”
It’s not like I asked her out on a date or anything, but I can’t really tell him that. Because then I’d have to explain that it’s not a date when the girl is essentially your roommate, and I haven’t told Marcus that Savannah’s staying with me. I’m not going to either, because he’d want to know why. That’s Savannah’s business and I’m not about to spread it around without her permission.
Continuing with his tirade, he says, “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to shit where you eat? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. I mean, Jesus, man, how well do you think this is gonna end?”
End? The thought never crossed my mind until now.
My eyes wander back to Savannah and linger on her mouth. I can still feel her lips on my cheek and her breath in my ear, wordlessly asking for more of what I’d willingly give again and again if she’d let me.
Frowning, I force my eyes away from the only face that filled my dreams last night and back to Marcus. “Who says it has to end?”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
Scoffing, he says, “What, are you gonna marry this girl and live happily ever after?” His face hardens with bitterness. “That’s not how shit works, Declan.”
Damn. Stacy really messed him up.
I shrug, feeling my mouth turn down in contemplation. “Sometimes that’s how it works. They say half of all marriages end in divorce, but what about the other half?” Somebody’s gotta be doing it right or the divorce rate would be higher.
“The other half ends in death, dumbass. That’s not any better in my book.”
“Yeah, but maybe they died happy.” I know my grandparents did.
Marcus stands and motions for me to follow him. “Let’s get in the ring for a bit before you start your workout. I clearly need to knock some sense into you.”
I push myself up from my chair, thinking that might not be such a bad idea.

Running the towel through my damp hair one last time, I toss it into the laundry bin on my way out of the locker room and hang a right to the utility room. Savannah’s pulling a fresh load of towels from the dryer and dumping them on the adjacent folding table.
“Hey.” She glances at me when I walk in, but quickly averts her eyes. “You heading up?”
It’s the end of the day, and we’re the only people left. I tried to wait for her by stalling and taking my post-workout shower here, but she still hasn’t finished.
“Yeah, I think so,” I say, leaning against the still-warm machine. “Unless you want me to wait?”
“Nah, it’s okay.” She nods her head toward the giant pile of clean towels. “This is gonna take me another twenty minutes, so. . .”
I shake my head and cross my arms, giving her a mock frown. “That boss of yours must be a real a*shole to make you stay late, huh?”
She laughs and bends forward, her ass curving in a truly beautiful way as the top half of her disappears into the large barrel of the dryer. Her voice echoes in the metal drum as she says, “Yeah, he’s riding me really hard.”
Holy mother of—
My eyes squeeze shut as I bite my knuckle, thankful that she can’t see me. Is she trying to kill me?
I quickly compose myself as she pops her head around the door with a lopsided grin on her face. “What, no witty retort? That was a perfect setup and you give me nothing?”
“Damn it.” I laugh and say, “I was this close,” while holding my thumb and forefinger up.
She shakes her head, smiling ruefully. “You’re not gettin’ soft on me, are you?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” My teeth bite my lip as I grin. I’ve missed her sass today.
Rolling her eyes, she shuts the dryer door. “I’ll be up in a bit.”
“Hey. . .” My smile fades as I wonder how to broach the subject of last night. She seems okay with what happened, but she could be faking it for all I know.
I really hope she’s not, though, because I definitely want to do that again. Like tonight, and every other night after it.
I don’t think I could ever get tired of making her come.
She pauses and turns back to face me. “Yeah?”
“Should we talk about what happened last night?”
Her eyes drop as she sticks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
My eyes hit the floor and I nod slowly. “Okay. If that’s how you want it.”
I make my way to the back exit, feeling a heavy weight settle on my chest. I shouldn’t be surprised that this is how she wants to play it. She said herself that she doesn’t do relationships. Neither do I, really.
Then why am I so bummed?
The thought distracts me as I step outside into the slightly cool evening. It distracts me from the footsteps on the pavement behind me and the whispered voices. It distracts me until someone shouts my name.
I turn and see three guys, one of whom has a baseball bat. I barely have time to register the situation before he’s swinging the bat and it’s hitting my stomach.
Pain erupts at the point of impact, gushing hot and fast as my breath is ripped from my lungs. Unprepared for such a blow, my body crumples to the ground. Punches and kicks rain on me. I curl up into the fetal position on the pavement, trying to protect my face and head as much as possible.
The bat connects with my hip and I cry out, breaking my position as my back arches. Flailing kicks land along my side, then one wrenches my head in the opposite direction and that’s when things get fuzzy.
I hear the guys talking above me, saying things like, “That’s enough, man, we’re not supposed to kill him,” and “Wait, we’re supposed to make it look like a mugging—get his wallet,” but they sound so far away. If I wasn’t lying on my side and looking at their blurry feet, I’d think I imagined the whole conversation in my pain-induced delirium.
A siren wails not too far off and one of them says, “F*ck the wallet, let’s get out of here. We did our job.” The sounds of their running feet and slamming car doors are drowned out by the approaching siren.
I grimace, pressing my palm into the gravel as I lie on my side. Sweat and blood coat my skin as coppery liquid fills my mouth. I spit it out, half-expecting a tooth or two to come with it, but there aren’t any.
Everything hurts, and I have no choice but to lie here and feel every agonizing second. Endorphins usually stave off the pain during a fight, but this wasn’t a fight, this was a message. I’m just thankful I was the only recipient and that Savannah’s still safely inside.