Chapter 35: The Fake Zone: Chapter 35

“This is terrifying,” Hannah says, admiring the raspberry pink toenail polish as the nail tech adds a second coat. Katie is on her left and Hadley on her right. It’s Saturday, and the first chance the five of us have had to get together since the Julian incident. I just finished recapping everything again, though they heard the story from the other guys. Hudson brought up a solid point that the others need to know so they can watch out for him and remain safe.

“Have you seen him since?” Hadley asks from her chair across from me, her toes shining purple.

I shake my head. “Not a sighting or a word.”

“So, is he the worst stalker in the world, or did he already move on?” Hannah asks.

“It’s only been a few days,” Evelyn says.

“Hopefully, it’s done, and having the police called scared some sense into him, but I’m sorry that you’re all getting the security detail craziness.”

“I don’t hate it,” Hannah says. “The guys always carry my bag, and I’ve been asked out on two dates, simply because of association. Guys I never knew suddenly want me because they see me with football players.”

“What does that say about them?” Hadley asks, blinking through her train of thoughts.

“That they’re disgustingly shallow, and the guys you want to avoid,” I say.

Hannah nods, looking bereft. “But the real question is, what’s it like living with Grey?”

Hadley spears her with a look. “That the priority of this afternoon.”

“But we curious,” Katie adds.

Evelyn flashes a smile that eases something in my chest. She’s been so worried. The two of us exchange a dozen texts a day, accounting for our whereabouts.

It’s only been a few days, and already I’ve learned sleep habits and cleaning habits of his along with a dozen more details I’d never thought about like his favorite flavor of toothpaste is peppermint, he drinks herbal tea every night before bed, and he makes his bed every morning. He’s neat, but not obsessively, and all of his underwear are black. “He doesn’t like to watch TV,” I share.

Hannah sits forward in her seat. “Tell us this a prelude to something dirty. That he doesn’t watch because he’s busy doing something else that involves nakedness. Primal nakedness.”

“He studies a lot.”

Hannah leans back in her seat and sighs with visible disappointment. I almost feel guilty for not admitting that Grey and I slept together, but since nothing has happened since and I’m not certain where things stand between us, mum’s the word.

At least, for now.

My nails and toenails are a happy, bright shade of teal as we head to lunch, asking for a table in the back of the restaurant where we can see if anyone approaches us.

Lunch is filled with stories and laughter, discussions of books, classes, boys, and clothes—normal things that don’t include Julian Holloway or the gym until I announce I have to get going.

“Are you going to show us these moves you’re learning?” Hannah asks.

“No. I look uncoordinated and awkward, but I actually kind of like it. It’s hard, but in a good way. You guys could come with me. We could train together.”

“I’m considering it,” Evelyn says. “Ever since seeing Julian, I can’t help but wonder how many times another creep has managed to get that close to me without my even realizing it.”

“It would be fun to do it together. The gym needs more estrogen, and maybe we can gang up and take Abe down.”

Hadley cackles. “No way. That guy has vindictive tattooed across his forehead.”

I slip my purse over my shoulder and grin. “But with five of us, he can hardly do a damn thing about it.”

“One battle at a time,” Evelyn says. “Be safe. We’ll see you tonight for book club. Text me when you get to the gym.”

I hug each of them and head for Mackey’s.

I expected the gym to be empty, people spending their Saturday anywhere but working out, but it’s busier than I’ve ever seen it. It’s even busier an hour later as Cole and I finish shadowboxing. The majority of people are men, some familiar, going to their stations while others look uncomfortable and new, like me.

Cole slaps a long piece of red tape to my chest and a second to my back before I can protest.

“I’m not going to get in the ring with anyone,” I say.

“We’ve seen the way you rise to a challenge,” Cole says. “It stays.”

I frown. “What did I do?”

He merely raises his brows.

“If you’re referring to Abe, I diffused that situation.”

Mackey scoffs from beside Cole, his expression condescending. “Cole needs to work on his jabs. Go get on a bag before they’re filled and work on your right kicks. Focus on your extension. I want to see at least two of these pretty nails broken by the time you’re done.”

Every day, I understand a little more why they all mouth off to Mackey. He’s ruthless, persistent, and gives Grey a run for his money when it comes to being bossy. But my determination to be a good student has me walking toward the bags.

“Atwool, get your ass in gear, or you’ll owe me fifty pushups,” Mackey yells.

I scowl, but my pace increases. I go to the far end, hoping to gain space and not draw the attention and critique of Mackey or Cole. I stand in front of the heavy bag, imagining a line on the floor as I square my shoulders as Dustin has taught me. Grey was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. His absence has me on edge.

I concentrate on my stance and form as I punch the bag with my left fist, and then kick it with my right foot. Grey wasn’t exaggerating when telling me balance and stamina are crucial for fighting. I likely needed several more weeks of cardio and balance before moving on to these steps, but I’m managing. Mostly.

I continue moving around the bag, counting the steps in my head, focusing on my extension as Mackey had instructed.

“Nice,” a guy with dark hair and deep dimples says, resting a hand against the bag beside me. “You have great technique.”

He’s lying. I look as new and uncoordinated as I feel—Mackey and the others will attest to the fact.

“Thanks.” I use the back of my forearm to wipe the sweat from my brow. I think I’ve sweated more in the past month than I have in my entire life combined.

His smile grows as his eyes drop to my tight tank and leggings.

I ignore him and hit the bag again, resuming my counts as a second guy joins him. This one has a series of tattoos along his forearm and dark auburn hair he has pulled back in a ponytail.

My focus falls to the bag as my muscles tire and my lungs plea for a breath, making it harder to maintain my balance and form.

Both men chuckle, and in the reflection of the mirror beside me, I see one of them make a lewd gesture with his hand and tongue.

I wonder how Mackey would react if I knocked them over with the heavy bag like a couple of bowling pins.

“What’s your name?” the guy with dark hair asks as the bag moves, forcing me to turn. Mackey would be correcting me, telling me my hit was too low.

“I’m just here to work out,” I say, punching the bag.

“So are we. Does that mean we can’t be friends?” He looks at his friend, who moves closer.

“We could help you work out, ,” the guy with auburn hair says, taking another step closer to me. “We could help you on your technique. You need to get lower. I could show you.” His gaze drops to the red tape on my chest. “What’s that for?”

“It means you leave her alone because she’s property of the gym,” Abe says, appearing behind me, arms crossed over his chest.

“She doesn’t seem to mind our attention,” the one with dark hair says.

“Don’t make me kick your asses,” Abe says.

The guy with auburn hair laughs outright.

Abe’s eyes go scary dark, and then he rotates, landing a series of punches and kicks against my bag with flawless precision.

The guy with dark hair nods and takes a step back. “Message received. Red tape means off-limits.”

The two drift down to another unoccupied bag without another word.

I turn to Abe, still impressed by his moves, and shocked he came to stand up for me. I’d bet a hundred bucks Mackey asked him to, but the fact he came still surprises me a little. This week, I’ve gotten the impression Abe would rather push me in front of a moving car than train with me. He never offers tips, critiques, or encouragement. Rather, he treats me as though I’m a virus and avoids me. “Thanks,” I say, my voice soft but genuine.

“Work on hooks,” Abe says and walks away.

At five, the bells on the door catch my attention and I turn to see Hudson with Grey. Panic nests in my thoughts, painful in my chest.

“You’re not done,” Abe says from where he’s perched a dozen feet behind me. Just as quickly as that narrow olive branch was extended, he snaps it in half.

I want to object and make sure everything is fine, but instead, I deepen my squat and work on hooks as instructed. I run through the drill for a solid ten minutes before standing, my muscles strained and burning.

“You could have gone longer,” is all that Abe says, following me over to where Grey is introducing Hudson to Cole and Mackey. Grey’s attention flits to me, eyebrows drawn with question.

I give a smile through shallow breaths and nod with assurance.

“Good to meet you,” Cole says, shaking Hudson’s hand.

Hudson nods, his gaze finding me for a second before noting Abe behind me. “You, too. I appreciate you guys helping us out.”

“It’s not for your benefit,” Abe says.

Hudson arches a brow.

“This is Abe,” Cole says. “Ignore him. We all do.” He looks at Hudson, a silent dismissal to Abe that makes Abe silently seethe.

Guilt pinches in my chest. Abe’s rude and unrefined, but the way the others talk to him bothers me on a fundamental level. I know I can’t stand up for him, know my pity would only make him loathe me. After all, we’re two sides of the same coin. Every day, I’m more sure of the fact.

Cole gestures to the gym. “If you want a tour, we’re happy to give one. This place is open seven days a week, just pop in.” I don’t know if he’s trying to sell him on the overpriced workouts I’ve learned they package to those who come down from Oleander Springs because of their earned reputation and Cole’s fighting record or if the offer is earnest.

“Sounds like the facility,” Hudson says.

“Pretty damn close,” Grey says.

“If they can teach me how to punch someone, they could probably teach you to be lethal,” I say to lighten the mood and cement his invitation here.

Hudson grins. “I never thought I’d see the day that I’d be driving to a gym to pick you up. A bookstore, yes. Coffeeshop, for sure. Jail, potentially—but a gym…” He shakes his head, humor bright in his eyes.

I scoff.

Mackey grins. A real grin.

I roll my eyes at him and head to the large pole where the rolls of tape and gauze hang along with multiple pairs of scissors. I grab one of the pairs to cut off my tape. Grey follows, taking the scissors and flipping my hands to face upward. “How was today?”

“Good. How was your day?”

The ghost of a smile crosses his features as he nods and cuts the tape off my right hand and wrist, tossing the sweaty and dirtied pieces into the nearby trash. He slips the scissors into the tape of my left side, high on my wrist, and cuts down to my palm before pausing, his gaze taking in my scar for a beat and then continuing.

As he turns to throw it away, I note the way Dustin stares at Grey, a silent confirmation passing between the two that assures me Dustin told him or asked about the scars. Old habits to pull back have my thoughts spinning to staying with Hudson and Evelyn or my own apartment, relying on the multiple safety precautions.

“See you tomorrow, Mila,” Cole says, snapping my thoughts back to the present.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” I say.

“We only take breaks the day after a fight,” he says.

Which would theoretically mean I’d never get a day off. His eyes gleam. He may not be as overtly obnoxious as his brother, but he’s just as adept at provocation.

I don’t bother with a response.

Mackey’s lips tip higher.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Grey says.

“Where’s Evelyn?” I ask as we step outside, the air so cold it steals my breath.

“Class. She gets out in ninety minutes. Your book club got moved to my dorm, so we’re supposed to go pick up snacks and drinks.” We stop at Grey’s truck, and I climb into the backseat, sitting behind Grey.

This week has been busy. Between training and classes, the only free time I’ve had was spent doing video chess with Griffin and homework. At night, when I would normally read a few chapters, I lie in bed physically exhausted and so sexually frustrated I can’t focus on reading. Now that I’ve experienced Grey, I want more and I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for me to talk through things before we sleep together again.

It’s forced me to think a lot about what I want—both to give and receive.

We pull up to a grocery store on the outskirts of town, the store and parking lot both bigger. Most students drive here because the prices are a lot less than those near campus.

“I’ll get drinks,” Hudson says.

“We’ll meet you in the frozen food aisle,” I say.

Hudson disappears with a cart as Grey trails me to the frozen snacks. “Are you okay with Hudson meeting everyone?” I ask, realizing when I shoved myself into this part of his life, taking Hudson and Evelyn was an inevitability I hadn’t considered until today.

Grey looks at me with those depthless blue eyes that always take in more than I intend. “Sometimes a belief or an idea is wrong. You were right about this. Cole and those guys are like brothers to me, but the team has become a second family to me. They need to know each other, especially now when I need to call on both to help.”

“What if things get … prickly?”

Grey smooths strands of my hair that fell from my ponytail behind my ear, humor glinting in his gaze. “It’s not an if. It’s a when.”

“Exactly.” I think of Abe’s quick judgment and reaction to Hudson.

Grey grins. “It’s not my problem to solve. The only way Abe is ever going to improve as a fighter is if he stops underestimating his opponents and popping off, and we both know Nolan’s ego sometimes needs checked.”

I shake my head, laughter sticking in my throat because he’s making this all sound so simple—too simple. I decide not to point this out or question him, realizing that today was a first step toward bridging these parts of his life. He may change his mind, and he has that right.

“Did you get distracted?” Hudson asks, pulling up beside us.

I take a step away from Grey, feeling as though I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I peer at his cart, filled with juices, coffees, bottles of wine, cookies, crackers, and bags of fruit. “Damn, I trained you to be a good boyfriend. You know the five of us can’t eat all this though, right?”

Hudson pulls out his phone to check the time. “The guys are coming, too.”

“To book club?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do you know what we read last month? The details that we’ll be discussing?”

“We’re going to play poker.”

I think about last month’s book club, and how we discussed the plotlines and characters before giggling over the idea of having twenty orgasms in an hour. We indulged in cookies, and it was the first time in a year I found myself wanting to open the lines of friendship, allowing more people into my small circle because the night was so fun. The interaction will be completely different with the guys there. A wave of resentfulness hits me, dark and ruthless, that a stranger has and continues impeding my life.

I grab a dozen different appetizers, each one sounding better than the last because I’m starving and bitter.

“You want me to help you guys carry this up?” Hudson asks twenty minutes later as we pull into the dorm parking lot. He checks his phone again, his nerves contagious.

“No. We’ve got it,” I tell him. “I’ve been working out.” I flex, though my sweatshirt is too baggy to show the outline of muscles that are slight but visible.

Hudson grins. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Grey and I wrangle the bags into the elevator and upstairs to his dorm. “We’re going to have to rearrange the freezer to fit this stuff,” he says.

“I could eat it all right now,” I say, opening his freezer. I pull up my sleeves and am about to reach for a bag of mixed berries when Grey’s thumb slides over my exposed wrist, tracing that damn scar that’s caught too much attention. His fingers gently fold around my arm. “This is the scar my mom saw.” His touch has chills dancing across my skin, followed by a rush of warmth. “Why have I never seen it?”

“My watch covers most of it.”

His jaw is shaven, but the shadow of stubble along his chin and jaw emphasizes his masculinity as the clean and fresh scent of cedar and sandalwood hit me with each of our breaths. “You got them when you were seven?” His blue eyes hold mine, filled with a plea and note of desperation that puts me on edge. “How? What kind of accident?” His tone is gentle but firm as he takes my other hand, holding my wrists up to reveal the series of scars that I refuse to look at. I don’t fight him. I don’t want to. I’m beginning to like showing Grey my ugly sides a little too much.

But this isn’t one of them. “There are some stories you can’t unhear,” I remind him.

“Did someone do this to you?” His voice is haunted.

I shake my head.

Relief doesn’t slip into his gaze. Instead, his brow furrows further. “What makes scars like this?”

I smirk. “A pet mountain lion would make a good story.”

Rejection has his gaze shifting over my shoulder.

“Trust me, Grey. It will change things. It will change everything.” A tear rolls down my cheek.

“Maybe I want everything to change.”

I’m torn between definitions of what he’s saying—could be saying—when a heavy knock on the door echoes through the room.