Down and Out(67)

She gives me a small smile before she climbs out of the car and heads up the stairs. My phone stops ringing while I watch her unlock the door to my apartment.
I know damn well that when I get up there, it’s not my bed she’ll be in, but hers.





Every time I close my eyes, all I see, taste, and feel is Declan. The cold metal of his lip ring as he kissed me, his fingers digging into my hips as he guided me, the exquisite feeling of him surging within me, pushing me to a plane of pleasure I never even knew existed. . .
My thighs clench and I feel a dull ache in my core—a bittersweet reminder that he came, he saw, he conquered.
I still can’t believe I slept with him. I can’t believe I begged.
Ugh, Declan was right. Nothing will ever be better than that.
I sigh and grab my purse and keys, heading out of his apartment. It’s my day off and I’m going crazy just sitting here and stewing in my memories of last night. I need to get out, preferably to someplace that doesn’t smell like him and have all his things.
Pulling out my phone, I walk down the sidewalk aimlessly, about to text him that I went out for a bit. I’d pop into the gym and tell him myself, since it’s right there and all, but I can’t face him right now. I know the sight of him all sweaty and shirtless will mess with my head even more, and that’s the last thing I need.
I need time to process what happened last night, because I’m still not sure what it was. That wasn’t f*cking, at least not how I know it to be. That was . . . raw. Frenzied. But sweet, and . . . intimate.
For all the sex I’ve had, that was the first time anyone’s ever truly possessed me.
Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Declan wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just supposed to find a job and get my life back on track, not find a six-foot-three tattooed fighter, who’s compassionate and says things that bring my cynical, jaded ass to its knees.
God, the things he says. . . They make me forget even the simplest things, like my name, or how to breathe.
That’s because no one’s ever gotten past your wall before.
My feet halt on the concrete as my stupid subconscious rears her ugly head. Cars whiz past me on the street and I’m vaguely aware that I’m blocking this deli’s entrance, but I don’t care, because what?
Declan hasn’t slipped past my wall. That’s impossible. That bitch is impenetrable, forged by years of mistrust and disappointment. I wouldn’t know how to let someone in even if I wanted to.
I have no idea how long I stand here, lost in thought, but eventually I realize I need to move. When I turn around, it’s smack dab into someone. I stumble back, dropping my phone on the ground as I hear my name being called through what sounds like a tunnel. When I catch myself, I see I’d run into a concerned Macy.
“Are you okay?” she asks, frowning as she looks me over. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I blink and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Bending down, she picks my phone up off the ground and hands it to me. “Thank you. I, uh . . . yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure? I saw you from across the street,” she says, pointing to the spot she’d been in. “But when I called out your name, you . . . didn’t seem to hear me.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, glancing around us. I probably looked like a crazy person standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, not moving.
“You want to get a cup of coffee?” she asks, nodding to a Starbucks up ahead on the corner. “My treat.” She smiles at me so warmly, so genuinely, that I can’t bring myself to say no.
So I don’t.

As we wait in line to place our orders, I realize I never texted Declan. I pull my phone out of my pocket again and type out a quick text, but when I go to send it, I get an error message with “Message Failure: Message Not Sent.”
What the heck?
Damn it, I never paid my phone bill.
Shit.
I slip my phone back in the pocket of my jeans right in time for us to order. I don’t actually drink coffee, so I order a hot chocolate, and Macy orders some vanilla soy latte concoction.
With our drinks in tow, we find a small table near the front window. “I saw you pop Jamie last night,” she says, pulling out her chair to sit. “That was badass, dude. Seriously.” There’s a huge grin on her face, and I realize Macy’s probably the only person I know who’d want to throttle the bitch as much as I do. “Did you know they had to fish one of her hair extensions out of the deep end after she left?”
I choke on the hot chocolate I’m sipping, sending piping hot liquid down the wrong hole. Coughing and laughing, I see Macy’s face blur as tears well. “No, but that’s awesome.”
She smiles and takes a dainty sip of her drink. “So do you go to the fights often?”
I shake my head, glancing out the window. “Last night was my first one.”
Jimmy’s offer runs through my mind again, like it had several times that day, and I bite my lip as I study Macy’s profile. “How much do you know about those fights?”
She shrugs. “Not much. Just that it’s illegal, and there’s a lot of money involved.”
“Did you know Jimmy’s opening a women’s chapter?”
Her eyes grow wide as she pushes her hair back. “Really? That’s kinda cool.”
“You think so? You don’t think it’s . . . weird?”
She frowns in contemplation and shakes her head. “No. I mean, it’s only fair.”
“Would you fight, if given the chance?”