And this is all I have to offer a girl like Mac.
That’s where I was going today. Today, I was thinking about having another date with her. I considered what it would be like to have her on the back of my bike or, hell, have her riding her bike next to me. My head allowed me to have even the scariest of thoughts and considered something exclusive. A relationship. And it didn’t scare the piss out of me.
I grab the soap and go to work on my arms first, digging the bar into my skin and scrubbing until it burns. “Filthy fuck.” I drag my nails along my arm. Not good enough.
Reaching over for the scrub brush I keep in the shower for this purpose, I bury the stiff bristles into the tender underside of my arm. “Fuck yeah.” Harder, faster, deeper. I scrub every inch of my body until it’s bright red and aching.
Sick of looking at my own naked body and tired of the losing battle to get it clean, I shut the water off and grab a towel. Even the soft cotton feels like sandpaper as I dry off, but fuck if the pain isn’t what I deserve.
I move into my room and pull on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. I drop to the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, and hold my head into my hands. When will this stop? What the fuck is wrong with me that I can’t even jack-off to the thoughts of a pretty girl like every other red-blooded male alive?
My head’s a mess of bullshit I can’t control. I grab my iPad and pull up my schedule for the week, sent over by my publicist. I concentrate on that and hope the monotony of it all will kill my self-hatred, even if only for the night.
Fourteen
Love’s an illusion.
We long for the truth.
I won’t believe it’s real
Until I see proof.
--Ataxia
Rex
Pouring a protein shake from the blender into a to-go cup, I check the clock for the tenth time this morning. It’s almost eight a.m. I swing my gaze to the window. The sun is turning the sky into a brilliant blue, and it looks as if it’s going to be one of those perfect Vegas days.
Not as perfect as yesterday.
I bury a small smile into my cup and take a gulp of the thick sludge. I’ve been itching to call my therapist since I woke up. Now that I’ve overcome the first few hurdles with Mac, I’m ready to push myself to accomplish more. My heart jumps at the thought of more with Mac.
She’s nothing like any of the girls I’ve met before. Her ability to throw herself into a dangerous situation, whether it be breaking up a fight or riding without a helmet, reminds me of myself. The way she embraced the rides at the Stratosphere, so carefree and open for anything, was refreshing She’s not one to shy away from pain or danger because she knows the payoff is worth it. Amazing.
I hit the door, lock up, and pull out my phone while walking to my car. Scrolling through my contacts, I find Darren and hit—
“Mornin’, Rex.”
I’m a few feet from Emma’s door when she walks out, backpack on and a coffee mug in hand.
“Hey, Em. Off to class?” I wait for her to lock up.
“Yeah, biology test today.” She holds up her coffee and smiles. “Extra caffeine.” Her eyes roam from my baseball hat to my toes. “You headed to work?”
“Yep. Day before fight night.” I hold up my protein shake and smile. “Power breakfast.”
She laughs and we move toward the parking. I can’t help but notice how different she is from Mac. Both girls are beautiful and easy to talk to yet completely different.
I wonder if Emma had been in Mac’s shoes yesterday how would she have responded to my asking her to take off her shoes. Would she be open to diving off the Stratosphere? My guess is she wouldn’t have enjoyed my pinning her face first to the door and feeling her up.
No, Emma’s a good girl.
Mac is not. She’s my own personal brand of crazy, and fuck me, but I dig it. A lot.
We say goodbye at the lot, and I hop into the truck to head to the training center. I call Darren on the way to get his advice before I fuck everything up with Mac.
He doesn’t have much to say beyond telling me he’s proud of me and that I need to listen to my gut—whatever that means.
By the time I stroll up to the training center doors, my mind is already overthinking things. She seemed to enjoy what we did yesterday, especially what I did to her before she left, but could I have read things wrong? What-ifs eat away at me, and the whisper of insecurity infiltrates my confidence.
I’m just through the lobby and at the mouth of the training center when I see a group of guys who don’t usually train here. They must be our competitors. Great.
Moving past them, I keep my eyes to the floor to avoid the uncomfortable welcome-to-town-I’ll-be-the-dude-beating-the-snot-out-of-you-tomorrow conversation.
“Woof, woof.”
They burst into hysterical laughter at their unoriginal taunt.