Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
After my early morning training, I pack my bag and head to Pine Valley College.
When I first visited, it terrified me. I felt odd and out of place, but there are so many different types of people here, I soon realized nobody cares where you come from or what you do.
They only care about what your goals are.
Pine Valley is a place to make them happen.
Most people have grand dreams to be artists, photographers, or lawyers.
Me? I just want to graduate college to say I did.
I always struggled at school, and I barely managed to graduate high school, but I’m determined not to let my brain hold me back.
I want to be a college graduate. I’m taking Intro to Physical Therapy, but it still involves a lot of studying, and that is the part I struggle with.
Luckily, the college was incredible about it, and I take classes part-time so I can still box.
It is not something I tell a lot of people, and I’m not ashamed, but this is for me.
This piece of my life is mine, and I want to do well at it.
Walking to a bench by the foundation, I smile when I see Ripley.
His nose is in a book, his thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, and his blue hair is messy.
He’s cute in a nerdy way, but he’s not my type.
He’s also an incredible person and my tutor.
His brain is so impressive, it scares me, and when I sit next to him, he shoves my paper back to me marked to hell.
“Shit,” I mutter as I stare at all the red corrections and notes.
“It’s better than the first one.” He grins as he raises his head. “You’re understanding the material better and are able to connect it and make assumptions. You’re doing well, Nikko, so don’t be hard on yourself. It’s just your—”
“Ability to form sentences and words,” I finish. It’s something I’ve heard my whole life. “Putting together a cohesive thought—”
“Which is why I’m here to help you.” He pats my hand awkwardly. “We’ll get you to graduate, Nikko. I promise. You’re putting in the work, and that’s all I ask. You’re improving.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I tell him. “Probably fail.”
He grins and glances at his book as I pull out my own.
Sometimes, I just read in his presence so he can explain things I don’t understand.
He also helps me with papers and quizzes, while I help him learn his body’s limits and improve them.
It’s a good deal, one I didn’t understand at first, but he seems happy with it.
Hiding under his polo shirt and jeans is a killer body thanks to me.
I’ve never asked why it was important to him, but one night, I saw him struggling in a local shop.
When I asked if I could help, he told me his mom and dad owned it and he assists them as much as he can because they are elderly and had him late in life.
That’s Ripley for you, dedicated and kind to a T.
It means he’s always studying or working, and I worry that it leaves him no time for friends or love, so I asked him about it one day, and he explained it isn’t easy to find someone who can fit into his life. I’ve never pried, but I’m curious now as I stare at him.
“Do you want love?” I blurt, and he blinks. “Sorry, I was just thinking. I mean . . . do you think love is important?”
“I do,” he replies slowly as he thinks his answer through. Ripley never says anything he’s unsure of. “I think everybody needs love in some way, whether it’s romantic or familial. I think love is very important for our happiness.”
“Do you want to find love?”
“Do you?” he counters.
“I didn’t think I did,” I say, looking at my book. “I’m not easy to love. I’m . . . different, but I’m starting to think maybe I do.”
“Being different isn’t a bad thing, Nikko,” he assures me. “But I understand what you mean. It’s hard for someone to accept certain sides of us, and it’s even harder for us to show them for fear of their rejection. I’m ace. Do you know what that means?” he asks kindly.
“I don’t.” I wince, feeling like a total ass. “Is it a neurodivergent thing like mine?”
“No, it’s my sexuality.” He chuckles. “Asexual. For me, that means sex isn’t really a thing I’m into.
Lots of people think that means I don’t want a relationship at all, and a lot of potential partners feel that way or think it means I don’t want them.
I do. I want love, I want a partner and a relationship, but sex just isn’t a thing I want. Does that make sense?”
“Does it make you happy?” I ask, wanting to understand.
“It’s who I am, like this is who you are.
I can’t change it, nor would I want to. It took me a little while to understand what I am.
I always thought something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel the urge to have sex like everyone else my age did, and for a while, I thought it meant I didn’t want a partner at all.
I spent time understanding myself, and now I know who I am, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Most people don’t want that kind of relationship,” he admits, and he seems sad.
“I hope you find someone who does. You’re an incredible person, Ripley, and sex isn’t everything.”
“Most people don’t think that way,” he replies.
“Then they are idiots. Connection is more important than our bodies, I think. If you don’t have feelings for someone, then a connection based only on sexual attraction is nothing more than a temporary thing.
One day, you’ll meet someone who understands that, understands you.
” He smiles, and I squeeze his hand. “And if they turn out to be an asshole, I’ll beat them up for you. ”
He laughs, the tears I spied disappearing like I wanted. “What are friends for?”
“Are we . . . friends?” I ask.
“Of course we are.” He frowns. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
I shrug and focus on my book, but when I glance up, he’s watching me knowingly. “I’d like to understand being ace more if you have time,” I tell him. If we’re friends, then I should know this so I can help him and love him for who he is.
The smile he gives me is so wide, it must hurt. “I have time. What do you want to know?”
“How can I support you?” I ask.
“Nikko.” He shakes his head. “You are the kindest person I have ever met.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to make you run laps later.”
“That too.” He chuckles. “Okay, so it’s different for every person—”
I spent hours talking with Ripley. I didn’t get much work done, but I understand him better now, which is good. He’s my friend, and friends should know this about one another and be able to support and protect them if they need it.
I think back on Ripley’s words as I collapse on my bed that night.
Does Zia need love? It’s obvious he’s drawing a line and isn’t ready for a relationship after his ex, but every time I think about him, I get confused.
There’s this warm feeling in my chest, and I can’t seem to stop smiling.
I don’t know what it means, but I don’t want it to stop.
For the first time ever, I’m thinking about more than just boxing.
I’m considering a life beyond that, and I like it.
There’s a knock at my door, and I sit up, looking at the clock. It’s late, one in the morning, since I did some training before bed. The gym is empty, and nobody else knows I live here.
My heart starts to pound as I rush to the door and open it, hope blooming until my gaze land on him.
“Zia,” I murmur, trying to contain my happiness. “What—”
He pushes past me, and I shut the door, turning to see him. His eyes sweep over me. I’m only wearing boxers, and I swallow hard, my dick reacting. “Never had a booty call?”
“No, what is it?”
He smiles wide at my bumbling question and wanders around my apartment as I watch him before I remember my room is a mess. I was in a rush and tired, and I can’t let this perfect man see it like that. I walk away when he’s staring out of a window and hurry to my room.
I start to throw my clothes into the hamper when I hear him chuckle. I glance back to see him at my bedroom door. “I didn’t come here to check out your place again, Nikko. I came here to fuck.”
“But it’s a mess.”
“Then fuck me in the mess,” he demands. “We both know we’d enjoy it.”
Taking my hand, he leads me to the living room and sits on the window seat, right where he sat last time. He peers up at me through his lashes with a look that makes me want to kiss the shit out of him.
“Tell me, when I was here before, sitting right here, did you want to kiss me?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I blurt.
He smiles as he tugs me down so I fall into the seat beside him. “Then show me.” He tilts his head. “Show me what you wanted to do.”
For a moment, the version of him from that night is all I see—lost, alone, and so fucking beautiful it hurts. I thought about that moment for months, but he’s giving me another chance, and I won’t waste it.
“Well? What are you waiting—”
I crush my lips to his in a hard peck before pulling away. “Stop fucking talking, Zia.” I kiss him again. His mouth opens under mine and my tongue sweeps in, tangling with his.
Our kiss becomes hard and fast, both of us desperate for this.