He glowers around the 500 square feet. “It’s . . . cute.”
I’d be embarrassed if I thought his distaste was due to my poverty, but it’s clear in the way he checks out the street lights and the locks on my door that he’s concerned for my safety. My heart beats a little faster.
“Make yourself at home. I’m going to change and grab a few things.”
Thankful that I hit the laundromat a couple days ago, I pull a black lace bra and panty set, my favorite jeans, and a black tank top into my arms. I step into the bathroom and slide the curtain closed. Changing quickly so that Jonah doesn’t have to wait, I brush on some mascara and swipe on lip gloss. I grab my toiletries and walk back out into my room.
On the way to my backpack, I freeze and bite back my smile. Seeing a UFL Heavyweight on my tiny twin bed makes it look like a Twinkie. I lose the battle and a laugh shoots from my throat. He looks at me like he knows what I’m laughing about and totally agrees.
“Can you imagine both of us in this bed? Or hell, just me?” He looks perplexed while he studies the bed from top to bottom, which sends me into full-fledged hilarity.
“If we stay here, you’ll have to sleep on the floor.” I manage to say through my giggles.
His hazel eyes darken, his amusement replaced by something tangible and consuming. “Not sleepin’ on the floor, babe. I’m starting to think of a few different ways we could fit.”
I suck in a breath and try not to fidget as electricity vibrates between us.
Breaking the moment before we set something on fire, I shove things into my backpack. Jonah gets up from the bed and goes to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. I do a quick mental inventory of what’s there, hoping he doesn’t find anything embarrassing. Thank God, I got rid of the Kama Sutra book Eve gave me on my last birthday as a gag. Other than a Bible, some romance novels, and a few pictures, there’s nothing much to see.
“That’s insane,” he says with wonder in his voice.
He picks up a small framed picture that I know is of my mom. It’s the only picture I have of her. I took it before I moved out, wanting to keep something of her, even if she wanted nothing to do with me. I remember catching her on the couch after she worked late. She had taken a long, hot shower, as she always did after work. She had on a pink, cotton, floor-length nightgown. She was listening to The Temptations, staring out the window at the distant lights of Las Vegas Boulevard with a lost look on her face. I’ll never forget how her beauty clashed dramatically with the ugliness she held in her eyes. I grabbed my throw away camera and snapped the shot. She was in such a daze she didn’t even flinch. That was two years ago. I haven’t seen her since.
“Raven, you look just like her. She’s gorgeous.”
“Yeah, she is.”
My chest burns with heartbreak like it does every time I think about my mom. I absently rub my chest in an attempt to push back the pain. I can’t do this right now, going from the extreme high of the last twelve hours with Jonah to this extreme low.
Anyone up for a ride on the bi-polar coaster?
He puts the picture back and turns toward me. There is a kindness in his eyes that makes me feel vulnerable. I look away.
Grabbing my stuff, I remember the can of cat food and head for the door. “Ready?”
He’s standing in the same place, his hands shoved into his pockets. I watch as something works behind his eyes, like he wants to say something but he can’t sort it out.
With a long breath, he nods and smiles. “Yeah.”
***
Walking up to the UFL Training Center doors, my stomach flutters with nerves. The idea of being inside a room filled with guys just like Jonah is daunting and intimidating as heck. He holds my hand as we push through the entrance and I grip him tighter.
Air conditioning and heavy metal hum through the lobby. Bright red couches and sleek side tables line the dark gray walls. At the far wall sits a desk with a striking strawberry blond woman sitting behind it.
Jonah tosses the lovely lady a quick chin lift. Her perky smile fades as her eyes hit me. I give her a small wave of my fingers and suppress the urge to throw her my middle one. I chalk up my aggressive attitude to all the testosterone that drips down the walls like honey.