Chapter 5 #2
My answer does not please her. That fact is obvious in the fire in her eyes, which are shooting darts at me. But she controls it impressively.
“All right, Luke. We’ll see where it goes. But just know that until you can say something other than that you ‘want me,’ we’ll remain just friends. And not friends with benefits. We’ll get to know each other as friends first.”
What am I supposed to say to that? I just backed myself into a corner she knows I can’t get out of. I huff loudly, run my fingers through my hair again, and finally agree to her terms.
“Whatever you say, Andi.”
“Do you have any plans for today, Luke?”
“Nope. What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll dry my hair, and we can go get some breakfast. Then we’ll decide what to do from there.”
I nod and watch her walk back to her bathroom.
I brought a change of clothes last night, just in case I didn’t make it home from the club.
I grab them from my truck and shower in the guest bedroom while Andi is still getting dressed.
Thirty minutes later, she’s ready to go, casually dressed in a tank top, shorts, and sandals.
Andi’s wearing light makeup today. She’s pulled her hair back again, and her beauty absolutely takes my breath away.
I didn’t have time to look around last night after getting Andi home and carrying her into her house.
Not that she remembers. She passed out before we even got her out of the club.
Her friends undressed her and put her in bed.
I stayed with her because I was apprehensive about leaving her alone in that state.
Everyone in the group threatened me within an inch of my life if I did anything to her—especially Shane.
After a lot of promises, they finally left, and I slept with one eye open in case she woke up and needed me.
Good thing for Andi, she slept off the worst of it and woke up feeling barely any effects from her binge.
I can’t take my eyes off her as we walk out of her house in an upscale area on the outskirts of northwest Atlanta.
The sun is bright, and she quickly puts on her sunglasses to shield her eyes.
We head to her car when she spots my truck parked in her driveway, and her lips tighten into a thin line.
I know she wants to ask me how she got home and got naked, but she decides against it and unlocks her car.
“I usually park in the garage, but there are boxes in my parking spot. I got home late yesterday and didn’t have time to move them. The other side is open if you want to move your truck inside. I can get the other garage door opener.”
She’s always so considerate. I just can’t get over how she’s the ultimate beauty-and-brains package.
I shake my head no. “It’s fine. I don’t mind leaving it parked outside if you don’t mind.”
She smiles. “Okay, let’s go eat.”
She picks a small sidewalk café about ten minutes from her house.
I grew up in this general area, and my parents still live here, but I’ve never eaten at this place.
She chooses an outdoor table, even though it’s early spring in the South, which typically means it’s hot as hell and 120% humidity.
But it’s a beautiful day, and a slight breeze makes it bearable.
We order our food, and the waitress leaves our drinks.
We’re talking and laughing, just getting to know each other, and it’s great.
I’ve never felt more relaxed with a woman than I do with her.
After I tell her a funny high school story about myself, she wipes away tears of laughter.
I feel someone stop beside us. When I look up, I see my parents standing beside us, eyeing Andi suspiciously.
I already know what they see when they look at her.
The pink horizontal stripes in her hair, the tattoo sleeve on her arm and shoulder, her casual dress, and the fact that we’re having breakfast together.
They think she’s one of my sleazy one-night stands, and I’m instantly defensive.
My father clears his throat lightly to draw our full attention to him.
Andi looks at my parents with a genuine smile, and they both return it with fake smiles that never quite reach their eyes. Andi looks at me and raises her eyebrows as if to ask, “Well?”
“Hi, Mom. Dad. Small world, huh?”
Mom laughs nervously, but neither of them answers. They just look back and forth between Andi and me.
“Mom, Dad, this is Andi Morgan. Andi, these are my parents, Linda and Sam Woods.”
Andi extends her hand to my mom first, then to my dad, and tells them both that she is glad to meet them.
Their reply is simply “Likewise.”
Mom tells me about Gran’s birthday party at my parents’ house at the end of next month. When she pauses and leaves an opening for someone else to speak, Andi offers each of them a seat and asks whether they want to eat with us.
I didn’t think they would accept her invitation.
The way they look at her, as if she is beneath them, their snobbery makes my blood boil.
But when they not only accept her invitation but also thank her, I notice a bit of thawing in their usually icy demeanor.
By the end of breakfast, Andi has them both eating out of her hand.
They are both ready to adopt her and take her home.
Before my mom leaves, she makes Andi promise to come to Gran’s birthday party with me.
I look at Andi without trying to hide my amazement and fascination. She really does not know how wonderful she is, because she simply asks me, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You are amazing, Andi. Seriously. How did you do that?”
“Do what, Luke?”
“They love you! They don’t like anyone, not even me!”
“Are you crazy? They love you! You hung the moon and stars in their eyes. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
I just shake my head at her. I must be blind not to see what she sees.
Then my phone buzzes, vibrating and causing a scene at our table. When I see Mack’s name on the display, my heart skips a beat.
His text message is blunt and direct, exactly like Mack.
We’re talking matchmakers tomorrow. Be ready.
My stomach drops.
“Everything okay?” Andi, perceptive as always, senses the shift in the air as I read and reread the handful of words.
I take a moment to catch my breath and keep my anxiety from creeping into my voice. When I turn the screen so she can read the message, understanding lights up her face.
“Yeah. Just… real now.”
“Prepare yourself mentally. Your training is about to get real, too. We should head to the gym. I know how to interpret Pop’s code.” She signals the waitress so we can pay and get to the gym as quickly as possible.
When we arrive, Mack is already there, so we approach him first. His deadpan expression gives nothing away, but his keen eyes see everything.
“You have six weeks until your bout. Nothing glamorous. I booked you for a small undercard match. Let’s see what you've got.” Mack holds my gaze, gauging my reaction.
“Six weeks?” I repeat, keeping my tone steady.
Mack doesn’t blink. “You asked to be taken seriously.”
I’m concerned everyone can see my heart beating through my shirt, but I rein it in when Andi’s hand brushes my forearm. She’s not offering me pity or comfort. She grounds me. With that simple touch, she says she’ll be beside me.
“Then I’m ready,” I say. I muster enough enthusiasm to appease Mack. But when I turn to Andi, I know she sees the fear beneath the surface… even if she doesn’t fully understand what’s driving it.
“While I get someone for you to spar with, start working on the speed bag. I’ll be right back.”
Andi disappears into the other room as I change clothes and wrap my hands and wrists.
When I square off with the speed bag, I lose myself in thought, and today is no different.
The upcoming fight shouldn’t cause this much angst, but I feel the pressure more than in my other fights.
The street circuit never had cameras. Never had records.
Never had my father’s name attached to the result.
“Okay, that’s long enough on the speed bag. Let’s hit the ring.” Mack’s rough voice cuts through my thoughts.
As I approach the ring, I see the other fighter climb in between the ropes.
Another trainer sets up his corner while Andi readies mine.
I sit in the chair, aware of her presence behind me, and watch the events unfold as if I’m detached from my body.
She double-checks my gloves before signaling that we’re ready.
“He has a heavy right hook, but there’s always a tell before he throws it. Listen for my instructions. You got this.”
A single nod is all I offer as I stand. The bell dings, and we circle each other, using the moment to size each other up before moving in for the kill.
Punches fly, both landing on their intended targets and swiping at the air.
Shouts from both corners fill the gym, but my ears are so attuned to Andi’s voice that the rest becomes background noise.
She offers instructions, praise, and criticism with precision.
Halfway through the round, I hesitate. It’s barely perceptible—long enough for instinct to override training. But that’s all it takes. His right hook clips my jaw, snapping my head sideways. The gym noise sharpens for a second, then dulls.
Andi’s voice cuts through it. “Reset. You’re reaching. Guard first, then counter—now.”
At the end of the fight, I’m declared the winner, and that should make me ecstatic. But the dubious look on Mack’s face hits me in the chest.
“Your reaction time is slow because you’re guessing,” Mack says, voice flat. “You’re throwing before you see it. That only works in street fights, not here.” Mack’s steely glare and cold delivery don’t invite a reply.
He doesn’t want excuses—only results. He’s right, and that scares me more than the fight does.
Andi steps closer. I feel her presence beside me, silently lending me her strength when I need it and holding me accountable when needed. Right now, she’s doing both.
“You heard him.”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I’ll fix it.”
Mack doesn’t nod.
“No,” he says. “You’ll slow down. Then you’ll see it. Then you’ll hit.”