Blindsided (The Fighter Series Book 1) (17 page)

Levi: So you were watching huh?

I smile like a goofball at the bright screen.

Me: Congrats!

Levi: Thanks. Come to my next fight.

I release a breath I swear I’ve held for weeks sinking into my pillows and covering my mouth. I don’t know if I want to cry, laugh, or cuss him.

Me: I can’t.

Levi: I’d like to see you.

Ever read a text and heard the person’s voice as if they were standing beside you? Although impossible, I heard his. It was soft and sweet begging for me. See…I’m imagining things. The screen times out and dims as I stare at it, contemplating what I should say. I want to tell him I need him, scream I can’t stand him, and inform him I’m petrified of him.

Me: Good night Levi. Congrats on your win.

It’s all I’m capable of. I’m scared to tell him that as I tried resisting him, I fell for him. The arrogant, self-centered, asshole somehow consumed me and he’s all I can think of. I know I’m stupid for doing so. He’s made his case—he doesn’t do relationships regardless of what I try convincing myself. I’m no different than anyone else. I have nothing to offer him except me…and my heart. Unfortunately, he isn’t interested.

Chapter 19

I’ve come to a conclusion…it’s time for me to unwrap myself. The last time I spoke to her was through text the night of my fight with Justin Lyndon and since then I’ve forced myself not to break and text her. All these feelings and tugs in my chest are only causing hurt. That’s right—I said hurt. It’s like I’ve stuck my head in a door and allowed Paige to slam it repetitively. For months I’ve chased her. Months I’ve tried. Months I’ve dreamt of her in my arms. It started as being roused by a new piece of ass, changed to the thrill of the chase, altered to a friendship, and modified to the way I feel about her now. It’s the subtle tugs, the faint pricks of emotion slamming my heart into gear. These feelings plus the hurt are making me slam on the brakes.

Every time I reach out, I’m shut down. And, women, let me tell you a man can only take so much. I’m not a fucking mind reader. I see what I see in her eyes and how she reacts to certain things. It’s like her body is telling her to run into my arms, but her mind is the arch enemy convinced I’m just like the rest. I’m trying to prove to her I’m not. I’ve been completely truthful with nothing unexpected. Well, maybe that kiss was, but in my defense, the feelings that rushed out of me were too. We both were just as surprised.

Stepping out of the bathroom from a hot shower, the remnant of last night sits on the side of the bed with the covers wrapped around her. She’s a pretty thing. Her long black hair is draped down her chest with a large set of brown eyes locked on me. She’s got a set of lips that her mom should be proud of and her dad should load a gun for.

She licks her lips and bites her purple fingernails. “You should have woken me. I would have joined you.”

There was a reason I didn’t wake her and I needed to get it off my mind. I cock my head to the side. “I needed to clean up.”

She grins dropping the blanket from her small breasts. Every man has a thing that drives him over the edge, that drives him utterly insane. My thing is tits that bounce as you thrust into a girl or slap together as you’re hitting it from behind. Unfortunately for this girl, she doesn’t have much to work with. Pair that with dead hips, I can bet money I won’t be doing that again.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I have to hit the gym,” I say and she frowns. “Told you last night not to get your hopes up, honey. Get dressed.”

I’m such a fucking dick. How do I know? She just hissed while slamming her legs into her skirt she was wearing last night with no panties. Here’s a hint—if you’re dressed like a slut, you’re going to be treated like a slut. I’m not sure why you ladies are confused about that. Sluts aren’t people you want to bring home to Mom. If you want respect, you have to earn it. Act like you’re worth someone’s respect and I can bet you’ll have it coming at you in waves. Don’t land in a man’s lap and start eating away at his ear if you want something more. Putting it on him so badly that he wants to change and settle down is like riding a flying dragon onto the red fucking carpet. Quit lying to yourselves, ladies.

Sweat rolls off me as I focus on the heavy bag in front of me. My next fight is important. I win this, I’m onto the semifinals then to where I want—the championship. Harvey has pushed me with submissions, ground play, and Muay Thai—something like kickboxing for you who are unsure. I have to be fluid with my movements, precise with my strikes, and solid with my focus. I do not want to lose sight of my goal.

“Bassow is gonna have his ass handed to him,” Adam hypes me.

I don’t respond staying fixated on the duct tape over the cracked leather bag.

“Semifinals are in the bag, baby. You’ve got this,” he continues.

Again, I don’t respond. It’s pretty messed up that all I can think of is how I want Paige alongside me on the other side of the cage rooting for me. I can’t get her out of my damn mind. Anger fuels me and I roar heaving a kick into the bag, placing my shin directly where I wanted it. I bounce back on the balls of my feet, pissed at myself for continuing to let her get to me. I slam a left jab then hurl a massive right hook narrowly missing Adam.

He jumps back releasing the bag throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

I square my body up trying to catch my breath.

Pacing a short line, I stop, never raising my gaze from the blue padded floor. “Man, she’s in my head.”

“Paige?” he asks confused.

I nod.

“Dude, it’s been months. What the hell?”

“I can’t explain it and I can’t fucking erase it,” I tell him. “Being preoccupied doesn’t fix the issue and I can’t shake the shit.”

Adam doesn’t say anything.

“Even cheetahs quit after so long,” I say over my shoulder moving toward the locker room. I need to go do something soothing, something that relaxes me and puts me at ease. Gym and pussy don’t release the tension, but I know exactly what will.

It’s been two hours of pure relaxation. A place of solitude. It’s just me and the tattoo artist who realized early to shut the hell up and let me be with my thoughts. He’s been working on my left shoulder with different graphics that mean tranquility for me. I told him exactly what I wanted and he drew it up.

Stepping out, the sun pours itself over my body and I pause for a second allowing my eyes to adjust from the dark hole and turning my phone back on. I shut it off when I walked into the place, not allowing anyone to bother me. I needed to clear my mind, get myself back, and right my priorities. I inhale the fresh air ready to start over, ready to get back to me.

Just as Chris, the tattoo artist, finished my shoulder, I decided to ask for something small, but a perfect reminder. It seems Paige has stolen my heartbeat. Every time the fucker beats, I swear it reminds me of her. Yeah, pathetic isn’t it? So, now on my left pectoral is a heartbeat line there to remind me it’s mine and fuck these ridiculous feelings that have the audacity to think Paige owns it. Again, let’s get this starting over party on the ball. Let’s roll!

Chapter 20

I’m insane, no, completely idiotic. Yep, I’ve lost all my stability. It’s been almost a month since I’ve spoken to Levi, and it has driven me straight to the loony bin. I’ve texted him once without a response and it broke my heart. Right then I realized he had to know. My dad always taught me to never die with regrets, and always tell someone what they mean to you before it’s too late. I might be slow, and it may be too late, but my mind is made up. This may make or break me, but no matter the direction this happens to go, I will come out stronger.

The farthest I’ve ever been away from home was when Levi took me to Tennessee. Blain and I have gone to the beach before, but that isn’t very far. And now, here I am staring at my phone like a halfwit in the middle of baggage claim at the airport in Dallas, Texas. Jim had already scheduled me off this weekend and that means my next day of work is Tuesday. If this goes sour, I have four full days to lick my wounds.

I got in touch with Adam two days ago when I figured out that I wanted this to happen. I could tell he was iffy about my plan, but he promised not to tell Levi so it could be a surprise. He also told me not to get my hopes up. Either way, I have to do this.

I texted him when I landed and he gave me directions to the gym they’re at with a warning that Levi’s “not in a good mood.” Hopefully, I can change that and cheer him up. I’m praying he doesn’t bark at me to leave. That will crush me. My thoughts are on a roller coaster—he’s going to be happy to see me, he’s going to be pissed, he’s going to love the surprise, he’s going to freak the fuck out. Oh God, what am I doing?

Dallas is huge compared to my sleepy little town. Its hustle and bustle, tall buildings and crowded streets remind me I am far, very far away from home, and alone. Not to mention, this damn cabby drives like he’s in a NASCAR race zipping through traffic and turns, jolting me each time. Hell, if I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, I would have eaten the windows several different times. Thirty minutes of riding with him should be considered an hour of cardio. Finally, he pulls up to the gym, and I grab my suitcase bolting out of the car and into a wave of heat that slaps me in the face. I’d rather stand in this mortal hell than ride with that dickhead again.

From the outside, the gym doesn’t look impressive—nothing I would think a man who stays in huge hotel suites would use. I take in a deep breath of hot non-country air and start in. The place smells like sweat and musty man. There isn’t a person at a counter waiting to greet me as I walk in, no “please wait to be seen” sign or anything of that nature. You walk straight into the gym. Adam instructed me to stay on the wooden pathway since I’m way too stubborn to take my shoes off. I can’t imagine all the germs, sweat, blood, spit…no, just no.