20. Calista
TWENTY
CALISTA
T he boxing facility was empty. Lincoln and I were the last two people in the building.
I was sure most students had something better to do on a Thursday night.
The motion-sensor lights around the building had clicked off a while ago.
The only light left was the one directly above us.
It acted like a spotlight, shining down on Lincoln, who was working the bag beside the ring.
Perched on the platform, I watched as Lincoln’s back muscles rippled with each strike. His physique was impressive, but I knew it didn’t come without hard work and dedication. He had made it abundantly clear that boxing meant a lot to him. Seeing him work out solidified that.
“Okay,” I said, snapping away from my intrusive thoughts. “Take a break.”
Lincoln’s chest was heaving as he removed his gloves. He grabbed his water bottle off the side of the boxing ring, and my eyes zoned in on his throat as he drank.
“Are we calling it quits?” he managed to get out through haggard breaths .
Closing up my notes, I placed the books in a neat pile by my bag. “Actually… I wanted to try one more thing.”
Lincoln had moved on to wiping the sweat off his body with a small towel hanging off the ropes. He passed the white cloth over his damp hair. “Something new?”
Nodding, I pulled another notebook from my bag.
“Something that helped me out quite a bit when studying for my anatomy courses was drawing out the areas I was trying to study.” I opened the book, flipping through the sections before landing on a page.
“For example, sketching out the bone structure found within a hand.”
Lincoln squatted in front of me after slipping on a black T-shirt. His dark eyes roamed over the old sketches.
“I can’t draw for shit,” Lincoln admitted once he peered up from the open pages.
I averted my eyes, affected by how close he was. “I’m not going to ask you to draw per se.” My tongue darted across my lower lip. “I was thinking we could use a live model.”
“A live model?”
“Yeah, this way you can outline all the different muscles and visualize how they move.”
Lincoln’s brow furrowed, confused by the concept. “And where are we going to get this live model from?”
“We have two right here.” I hauled a couple of washable markers from my bag. “You can draw on yourself, but that might make it a little tricky, so it probably makes more sense if you draw on me.”
Lincoln took the marker that I held out to him. “You want me to draw on you?”
“Have I ever strayed you wrong with my methods?”
“Not yet,” Lincoln murmured .
With a reassuring smile, I rose to my full height, hands bracing the waistband of my joggers.
“What are you doing?” The tips of Lincoln’s ears began to turn red.
“I have shorts on underneath,” I said with a laugh. “Relax.”
Lincoln’s gaze was trained on me as I slid my joggers down my legs, revealing a pair of biker shorts.
“Alright,” I said as I sank to the floor and grabbed his textbook. “Let’s begin.”
I launched into a briefing, instructing him to outline the muscle groups of my leg as detailed in the textbook.
Then we would work on the labelling. Lincoln hesitated, the open marker stationary in his hand.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gripped my ankle with a gentle hand.
The warmth from his fingers caused a shiver to wrack through me.
The wet marker tip glided over my skin, and I thanked past me for deciding to shave during my morning shower. Lincoln worked on copying the diagram. His brow furrowed in concentration.
“Is that everything?” he asked as he finished labelling the vastus lateralis—one of the muscles that make up the outer thigh.
“That’s everything,” I chirped with a grin as I glanced down at his messy scrawl. “It looks great. We make a great team.”
When Lincoln didn’t respond, I peered up at him.
His eyes were definitively on me. His palm remained planted on my inner thigh.
I was painfully aware of the heat that began to pool in other parts of my body.
I stilled, lashes heavy as his upper body inched towards me. He appeared as hypnotized as I felt .
“Lincoln?”
His fingertips rose off my thigh, the spot where his hand now chilled and prickled with goosebumps. His touch migrated, feathering over my cheek before raking through knotted tresses. His dark eyes swept around my face before landing on my parted lips.
As if not to frighten me, Lincoln kept his distance. He stayed like that for a moment, giving me time to slip away.
I didn’t.
I didn’t want to move. Not when I had him staring at me like I was the only person left in existence. His actions were so steady, so thoughtful, so gentle. There was no hesitation. He was so confident, so sure.
And there I was forgetting how to breathe.
“I’ve never been one for teams,” he murmured. “But I’m glad I have you on mine.”
My heart fluttered in my chest at his words.
I was so small, so tiny in comparison to everything that was Lincoln Pierce.
Being this close to him made me realize a hidden truth within myself that I didn't want to acknowledge.
Every flaw, every scar, every mark from his past was visible from where I sat. And I adored every single one of them.
His other hand dared to raise up the side of my shirt, burning the exposed skin. Everything came so quickly. One second, I was admiring the tufts of hair that found their way down to Lincoln's forehead; the next, his lips connected with mine.
He started off slow, testing the waters, still giving me a chance to run.
But when I latched onto the material of his T-shirt, everything spun out of control.
The soft caressing of his lips intensified.
His arms pulled me closer, encapsulating me in a cage I never wanted to get out of.
The hand that was once in my hair fell to the back of my neck .
He was in complete and total control.
His lips moved seamlessly along mine. Our breath tangled between us, spreading heat throughout my being.
I was dissolving under his touch, and he was greedily taking me in.
Being consumed by Lincoln was like nothing I'd ever experienced before.
I thanked whatever god was out there that I was sitting.
Otherwise, I was sure my legs would have given out. Kissing him was dizzying.
As if sensing what he was doing to me, Lincoln pushed forward until I was lying on the black rubber floor of the boxing gym.
He hovered over me, holding himself up with one arm that he had positioned near my head.
His knee settled in between my thighs. The fervor between the two of us poured out like a storm at the end of a drought.
I couldn’t get enough of him.
The raw desire behind our lips died down, like the smoldering embers left over from a campfire.
The heat remained, simmering. Lincoln slowed the pace, relishing in my taste on his lips.
His thumb brushed over my jaw. A delicate sweep that burned into my memory.
His lips released mine, and I almost pouted at the loss of contact, but the ecstasy in my veins swallowed away the disappointment.
Taking a moment to revel in the art of breathing, I filled my aching lungs.
Lincoln scrambled backwards, thumb tracing over his bottom lip.
“I… uhh.” His voice was still thick despite having cleared it. “Sorry about that.”
Slowly, I managed to place myself in a sitting position, my head still feeling fuzzy from his kisses. I pulled my lips inward, my tongue brushing against my bottom lip. “No need to apologize.”
“Are we… good? ”
“You mean, are we done for today?” I clarified. Lincoln nodded. “Yeah, we’re done.”
Lincoln ran his hand through his hair before pushing to his feet. He gathered a few of his things around the ring before he spoke again.
“I’m going to shower before heading home,” he managed to get out. “Don’t feel like you have to wait for me.”
I was at a loss. Were we not going to talk about the make-out session that just happened?
Questions tumbled around in my head. Maybe he made a mistake?
A lapse of judgement? Maybe he didn’t enjoy it as much as I did?
From the solid mass I’d felt against my thigh, I was sure that wasn’t the case.
But instead of bombarding him with the interrogation that milled around in my head, I smiled.
“Okay,” I said in a casual tone, brushing some stray hair away from my face. The last thing I wanted to do was make things awkward when I still had to see Lincoln a couple of times a week for tutoring. “Yeah, I was going to head back to the dorms now anyway. I have plans with Harper,” I lied.
Lincoln nodded; his face still tinged with a hue of pink. “Alright, I’ll walk you out.”
The two of us continued to pack up in silence. When I had my things, Lincoln did as he promised and escorted me out to the doors of the training facility. The quiet gave me time to settle the overzealous beating of my heart. What was this man doing to me?
“Also,” Lincoln added as we reached the foyer. “Don’t kill me, but I have a big match this Friday. I won’t be able to make it to tutoring the rest of the week.”
I plastered on a teasing grin, hoping it appeared natural. “I guess I can let it slide this one time. We’ll reschedule. ”
Lincoln’s dark eyes bore into mine for a second longer. “Thanks again, California.”
“Don’t mention it.” I smiled before slipping into the chilly night. The metal door shut with a resounding bang, and the composure I was holding together began to crumble.
So much for keeping things professional.