Chapter Eight
“Earth to Megan.”
My head snaps up and I look at Brooke. Her brows are raised, and she’s staring at me like she’s been waiting for me to answer her far longer than is normal. Brooke got used to me spacing out for a long while after the incident, but lately I’ve been much better.
This time, I’m not lost in the waking nightmares of what Michael did to me, or what I did to him.
I’m thinking about Joey Ferguson. About the t-shirt of his that he left for me to sleep in, that I consequently brought home with me.
Every time I think of it, my face flushes. He probably knows I stole it. It’s been three days since I spent the night. He’s texted twice to let me know he is getting better, still not up for training but credits me with helping him.
I still haven’t replied.
“Sorry,” I blink back into the present.
“What is with you? You’ve been somewhere else the whole time we’ve been here.”
“Sorry. ”
“Stop saying sorry,” Brooke reminds me, firmly but gently.
I almost say it again and Brooke smirks, knowing that. “How is Jenna?” I ask.
“She’s fine. Stop changing the subject. And given you are in some other world, I’m going to assume you don’t know what that subject is,” she stares pointedly until I shrug sheepishly. “Seriously, where is your head at? Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine…” I close my eyes.
I’m supposed to be opening up, being more emotionally available to the people I know I can trust. It’s still hard to do. I blow out a breath. Brooke waits me out. It’s one of the things I love about her. She never hurries me, but she pushes me. Gently, but it’s there.
“I think…”
“Therefore, you are?” Brooke suggests with another smirk.
“Hilarious.”
I toss a napkin at her. I understood that reference. Not because I’ve studied philosophy, like Brooke probably has. I think I heard it in a movie once. My brain is going off on a tangent again.
“I have a crush on Joey Ferguson,” I blurt out, then drop my head to stare at the table.
It’s our weekly coffee date at Brooke’s favorite coffee shop near her office. My shift doesn’t start until three today, so I’m in no hurry. Although I picked up a couple of extra shifts to make up for the one I missed while I was nursing Joey.
“Who’s he again?” Brooke asks.
My head whips up. “The MMA fighter.” Her brow quirks up. “I know, a crush on a man who fights for a living. How crazy is that?”
“It’s not crazy in the slightest,” Brooke tells me. “Is he hot?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Yes. He’s very hot.”
“So why wouldn’t you have a crush on him?” she asks. “Wait, is he the guy who’s training you?”
My cheeks flush and she grins. “Oh, that is fucking perfect. ”
“Perfect? What?” My eyes widen. “Are you kidding me? I can barely look at him since the other night-” I slap a hand over my mouth. Shit.
“Okay,” Brooke sets her coffee down and straightens up in her seat. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, Megan Cooper,” she says in that stern voice she reserves for the court room. “This here,” she points between us. “Is a sacred friendship. With Jenna and Elsa, you’re in the circle of girlfriend trust and it’s a sin not to tell the others what is going on when it comes to guys.”
I chuckle, relaxing when I realise she is not about to tick me off. Well, she is, but not in the way I’m used to being reprimanded.
“Spill,” she gets comfortable in her seat again.
After taking a deep breath, I tell her everything. Right down to the fact I stole Joey’s t-shirt. Brooke’s grin only gets wider when she hears that. Before she responds, she takes out her phone. I stare at her for a moment, wondering what she’s doing.
“Oh, damn.” She turns her phone around and shows me a picture of Joey.
It’s a promotional shot he has for fights. He’s only wearing red and black boxing shorts, his hands are taped up and he is mock punching towards the camera, so one of his fists looks bigger than the other. His muscles look more pumped up than normal, and there is a fine sheen over his tanned skin. My heart thuds as I stare at his piercing eyes.
That isn’t the real Joey. I’ve seen a completely different side of him to this fierce, tough looking fighter. But my stomach flutters at the sight of his bare muscled chest and abs.
“Real talk.” She sets the phone down and puts both elbows on the table, folding one forearm over the other. “Do you like him?”
“I think we just established that. And that I made a complete fool of myself.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I stole his t-shirt!” I half shriek, then glance around in case anyone overheard .
“Meg, he will be thrilled about that.”
“How so?”
“Men are idiots when a woman they like wears their clothes.”
“He doesn’t like me like that.”
Her brow lifts again.
“I mean… How do I know if he likes me like that?” I ask anxiously.
Brooke contemplates me for a moment. If it were her, she’d outright ask him. Or flirt with him. Brooke isn’t shy when it comes to men. She doesn’t sleep around or date constantly, but she has flirting game down. She isn’t scared to approach someone she likes, whether it’s something that will work out or not.
So many times I’ve wished I could be like her.
“Okay, let’s think about this. He could train you at the gym, but he chose to do it at his place. He’s told you a lot of information about himself. No guy who is just training someone would do that. He let you spend the night at his apartment, and sleep in his clothes. That isn’t about repaying you for looking after him when he is sick. Maybe he’s a conscientious guy who worried about you getting home so late, but in my experience, men don’t think about shit like that unless they’re interested.”
I bite my lip. Is she right? Could he like me? I’m such an idiot that I can’t even see when someone is just being nice, or if they like me… for other reasons. But he hasn’t ever said or done anything to make me think he likes me too. Has he?
There were times before Michael came back that Joey talked with me, watched me. At first I’d been unnerved by the attention, but as the weeks went on, I’d kind of started hoping he’d look over when I was working out with Jenna. And he did.
All the times he caught me looking at him aren’t because he was going to talk to me. It’s because he was looking at me too. Shit, does he like me, and I’m so dumb I haven’t realized it?
Brooke lets out a breath. “He paid your bail money.”
“That doesn’t mean he likes me,” I whisper, looking towards the window.
“Meg.”
Slowly, I turn back to her.
“You know I love you and that you can trust me. And I will never say anything that I think you won’t be able to handle.”
My stomach flutters for a whole different reason now. Brooke is right though, I trust her and I know she is tough and straightforward, but she isn’t mean. I nod.
“You haven’t been in a relationship with a man for years.”
I protest, but she holds up a hand.
“What you had with him was not a relationship, honey. I’m not about to unpack all of that because I’m not qualified. But the truth of it is, you’ve been alone for a very long time. You may not be ready, and that is fine too. I know it’s only been a few months since everything happened.
“But honey, you deserve to be happy, and that means taking chances. I get it. If it’s still something that terrifies you, then you need to hold off and I will support you one hundred times over. I’ve just sat here and listened to you talk about this guy for the past fifteen minutes and Meg, I think you need to hear this because you’re still struggling to let yourself live, not just exist.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“You like him. It’s written all over your face.”
“I’m scared.”
“Everyone is afraid, Meg. If I had to guess, I’d say Joey is just as afraid. He knows what you’ve been through. He’s a professional fighter. From what you’ve said, it sounds like he is attuned to your situation. The respectful distance, adapting to what makes you comfortable without even having to ask. These are all things you’ve seen, Meg. Your eyes are open to him. Let your mind follow,” she grins wickedly. “And then your legs.”
“Oh my God,” my face flushes bright red and I cover it with my hands .
“I don’t sugarcoat shit,” Brooke says. “This guy,” she points at her phone, even though the screen has gone blank, I haven’t forgotten the image of Joey on the screen. “Looks like he could satisfy you.”
“Stop it,” my head ducks.
“Sex with the right person isn’t something to fear.”
My therapist broached this a week ago, but I brushed over it. One thing Michael never did was force himself on me. It was one of those things that made me hate myself. Whenever we had sex, I enjoyed it. I never stopped him. Was he the best in bed? No. Sometimes he got off without getting me there, but most of the time, I enjoyed it.
The beatings never occurred around those times, which was why I never associated violence with sex. Stupid, really. Everything about Michael was violence.
Everything about Joey is violence too.
I shake my head, trying to clear that thought away. Joey is nothing like Michael. And I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it. Sex with Joey.
“This is moving way too fast for me.”
“Take sex off the table. Try talking to him. Subtle flirting. Do something other than train with him.”
“How?”
“Invite him out for drinks? Dinner. The movies.”
“We’re not teenagers.”
“There are no set rules. Take baby steps if it’s what you need, but first and foremost, let him know you’re interested. Take it from there.”
“What if he says no? How can I face him after that?”
“If it’s that hard, no one says you have to.”
“But I enjoy training with him.”
“Because you want to sex him up.”
I burst out laughing in shock. She’s right.
“Deep inside you,” she squeezes my hand. “Is a bad ass, confident, sexy woman. You’ve been hidden away for too long, Meg. It’s time to come out of that shell. Time to break through the shield you’ve had around yourself for the last five years. Live your life. He doesn’t matter anymore. He can’t hurt you, control you, or stop you from being the woman you’re supposed to be. Damn, don’t cry. I can’t deal with crying.”
She gives me a look, but she doesn’t mean it. Brooke leans across and hugs me against her as I brush at the tears. They’re not tears of sadness, it’s because I can’t believe there are people around me who want to see me succeed, who care about me.
It’s been so long since I’ve had that.
“You’re worth it,” she whispers. “You deserve to be happy.”
After she lets me go and I clean up my face, I wring my hands together. She’s right, I have to take back my life, take back the control.
“I still don’t know how to ask him,” I say.
“Until you’ve worked on your flirting game, you’re best to just socialize. Ask him to do something other than train. Take it from there. You’ll know pretty quickly if there is chemistry, reciprocated interest.”
“How?”
“If it’s there, you will know, Meg. Trust me.”
I can do that. I can trust her. Can I ask Joey out on a date?
Only one way to find out.