Thirteen #2
Heavy music is vibrating the walls and Oliver is too focused on his footwork to notice me in the corner of the room.
He moves quickly. He has the entire downstairs transformed into a home gym with a garage door lifted and mats that match the ones at the gym placed on the floor.
I watch his snake tattoo move as he dips his shoulder and works a combo that I’ve seen AJ work a hundred times.
It’s not lost on me that he probably taught it to her.
I think the entire gym forgets that Oliver is the starting point for most of the training.
Rory eclipses his talent. But watching Oliver, it is clear that he has a different drive than AJ or Rory.
Rory is nearly perfect, he is steady and quick and calculated.
He knows exactly what he wants to do before he steps foot in the ring.
AJ is studious and resilient. She learns her opponent fast and then attacks hard.
Oliver is methodical and hungry. He gets lost in the adrenaline of the pain and violence.
I saw it when he fought with me in his corner at The Poolhouse.
A new song starts just as he pivots on his back foot, keeping his upper body in form.
He spins and then nearly breaks his neck spinning back around.
His eyes catch on me leaning against the wall and his hands drop.
His hair is curling on the ends from being soaked with sweat and he has scruff covering the bottom half of his face.
He takes full inventory of me before an excruciatingly slow grin graces his face.
“Hi, pretty girl.” He’s not even fazed that I’m in his house right now.
He walks over to grab a towel laying over his weight rack and wipes off his face.
He continues over to me, and I quickly realize I misjudged how sweaty he actually is.
I follow the droplets as they fall down his waist line.
He has a few other tattoos scattered about that I haven’t gotten to see up close like this before long enough to really take them in.
A flock of birds are sprinkled over his ribs.
There’s a traditional rose on his other hip and I know the butterfly on the back of his neck.
And his recent addition of the viper on his back and peeking over his shoulder.
He was adamant about that placement when Devyn was getting our tattoos laid out.
When I reach his eyes, they are staring at my lips.
I cross my arms in a pathetic attempt to put some resemblance of space between us. “You smell.” I wrinkle my nose in fake disgust.
He doesn’t even respond, just smiles and continues to stare at me. His eyes catch on my nose ring. He leans against the wall, mimicking the way I’m leaning and tilts his head to rest on the wall. “You came.”
“Well I can’t resist an opportunity to be better at something than you.” I have no idea if he has ever remodeled anything, he could very well be spectacular at it. “Why are you working out here instead of the gym?” I wouldn’t have thought that any of them would workout anywhere else but the gym.
“I have a fight next Friday. AJ has me working drills three times a day.” His voice is missing the usual grit to it, like he is more at ease being in his home.
“Who are you fighting?”
“Want to come and see?” He offers and I feel my breath hiccup but I don’t think he notices. There is something real about him asking me to come to his fight.
“Are you going to act like a caveman and put me in your corner behind your brother again?” Am I entertaining this offer? Possibly. Watching him fight lit my entire body on fire.
“Are you going to bring a useless date this time?”
“Davey isn’t useless. He was very sweet and he made me laugh.” I lift my eyebrow waiting for him to argue.
“On second thought, he was a fan. You can bring him. It’s always nice having cheerleaders there.
” I shove his shoulder. Which was a mistake because he catches my hand before I’m able to withdraw it.
His hand lightly wraps around my wrist and I can feel his thumb pause over my pulse point.
And I know that my heart is giving away that being close to him is affecting me.
I watch his bare chest rise and fall before he speaks softly, “I’m going to go shower.
There’s cherry coke in the fridge.” He releases my hand and passes by to go upstairs.
There isn’t just cherry coke in the fridge. The entire fridge is stocked. With real groceries. I know he doesn’t get that from his dad because AJ complains about Eddie surviving on girl dinners and how he would probably die without her. I personally think Eddie’s girl dinners are cute.
I keep snooping. It’s only fair for me to know what I’m working with since the kitchen is where we’re starting.
I open the freezer and start laughing when I find three pints of butter pecan ice cream.
I guess Oliver has a sweet tooth. I start checking drawers looking for the catch all drawer.
I feel like that exposes so much about a person.
And I’m desperate for any loose knowledge to unearth about this man.
I open drawer after drawer and only find spices and silverware and Ziploc bags.
“I don’t have one.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Oliver’s voice.
“Don’t have a what?” I rush the words out to try and hide how badly he scared me.
“A drawer with all the random things.” Lies.
“Everyone has one.” I narrow my eyes on him. He’s standing across the island in new sweatpants and a tattered shirt. His hair is in disarray, clearly from where he towel dried it. But he looks refreshed and calm.
He shrugs his shoulders before saying, “I don’t.” He walks out around the island and starts pulling out ingredients from the fridge and lining them up.
“What are you doing?”
“I just had an hour-long workout.” He looks at me like I should understand how that answers my question. “I’m starving.” He turns and reaches behind me for a knife. “I know you live off tacos, but how do you feel about breakfast tacos?”
“I’ve never had a breakfast taco.” I try to look over his shoulder which is pointless because he is so much taller than me.
“You can sit if you want. I just need to eat and then we can get to work.” He motions with the knife to the table.
“I don’t want to sit. I want to watch.”
He picks me up and plops me down on the counter next to him. “I don’t think it’s sanitary for me to sit on the counter while you prepare food.”
“My mouth has been on nearly every inch of your body, Mia.” He looks up at me. “I don’t care that you sit next to my food.” He continues moving freely as if he didn’t just rob me of the ability to speak.
I watch him make protein pancakes and put bacon in the oven.
And move around the kitchen with the type of familiarity that makes me wonder who all he has cooked for in this kitchen.
He mixes up some kind of yogurt mixture and starts chopping up fruit next to me.
He pops a piece of strawberry into his mouth and notices me staring at him.
“What?” He wraps the words around the strawberry he hasn’t chewed yet.
“You’re cooking for me in a house that you own and you're freshly showered and smell amazing.” I take a piece of strawberry and pop a shoulder.
“It’s a hot look for you, Ol.” His cheeks tint pink as he dips his head and starts plating the pancake taco and stuffing it with bacon and egg and sprinkles cheese on top.
“Breakfast is my favorite food.” He hands me a plate.
“Hope you enjoy your first breakfast taco.” He points to the beautiful plate of food now sitting in my lap.
“Eat. And then we get to work.” I shouldn’t be so turned on by a man telling me to eat.
But my body reacts to the simple words and I know that today is going to be a challenge in more ways than one.