Chapter 11
When I flung the cupboard door open, it hit the wall and came straight back at me, almost smacking me in the face.
I immediately tried climbing out, but since I had zero feeling in my lower extremities, and since Cam’s legs were all twisted up with mine, my attempt to stand failed miserably, and I stumbled.
My instincts kicked in. I managed to flip my body mid-air as I was falling, twist it just enough that I landed on my back rather than my face.
The breath rushed out of me as I hit the floor and I began gasping for air, but just as I’d managed to get some into my lungs, something heavy landed on top of me.
It all happened so fast that for a brief moment I was frozen, until I realised what had happened.
‘What the hell!’ I swatted at Cam and shoved his shoulders in a futile attempt to get him off me. I didn’t know which was worse, being in the cupboard with him, or having him lying on top of me like this . . . No. This was worse. Definitely this. ‘Get off me!’ I hissed.
‘I can’t move my legs,’ he said, lifting himself onto his elbows, which at least gave me some relief.
It also gave me an opportunity to escape, and with all the strength I could muster, I tried to roll. But of course our useless dead-weight legs just tangled together even more, and the momentum of the roll meant that this time I ended up on top of Cam. I glared down at him.
‘Stop smiling! What the hell is wrong with you!’
‘Me? I could say the same for you. You’re on top of me.’
‘Well, I don’t want to be.’
‘Neither do I!’ he shot back, and in one swift, annoyingly practised move, he rolled us over once more. And once more I was pinned to the floor.
‘Stop it!’ I beat my fists against his chest as hard as I possibly could.
Which was hard, considering I was probably as muscular as a strong man.
I wiggled my toes again, and to my relief, they actually moved.
The blood had returned to them and hopefully my legs would follow soon.
Because the second they started working again, Cam was getting a knee in a certain place.
A certain very sensitive place. And I would relish his screams.
He reached down and grabbed both of my wrists in one hand, looking way too pleased with himself. I’d forgotten how big his hands were, inconveniently big . . .
‘What the hell are you doing here, Cam?’
‘Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question.’
‘Let. Go. Of. My. Hands!’ I spat, refusing to break eye contact.
He leaned in, bringing his face all the way to mine. ‘Or what?’ he asked, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction.
‘Or else . . . this!’
It was a miracle. Movement returned to my legs and I immediately mobilised them into action. Unfortunately my knee missed the primary target, but it landed fairly close, close enough to get a reaction out of him.
‘Lizzy! Fuck!’ He winced, but despite that, he was still bloody smiling.
‘Don’t you dare call me that.’ That Lizzy was the final straw.
I raised my leg and hooked it over Cam’s back, then reached up and grabbed my own shin, an easy move for someone as supple as myself.
I’d successfully managed to get him into a triangle choke, and now I was going to hang on for dear life.
Cam’s eyes widened as I tightened my grip.
It was only a matter of time before he’d have to tap out; his face was already turning an impressive shade of purple – not his colour, I might add.
But then, to my utter disbelief, he let out a small breathy chuckle.
‘Not your usual wrestling gear, Lizzy!’
‘Shit!’ In a moment of sheer agonising horror, I realised I was still wearing that stupid dress.
And with my legs splayed and one of them wrapped around him, he could see right up it.
This was exactly why I didn’t wear dresses.
You never knew when you’d need to throw down and wrestle someone who brought out your homicidal tendencies. And Cam did that in abundance.
‘Stop looking, asshole!’ I said, and tried to manoeuvre him into a new submission. But before I could lock it in, he slipped free and in one move had me pinned in an armlock.
I winced at the pain, a pain I knew well. Cam and I had been sparring partners for two years, but that also meant I knew his weaknesses.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Lizzy,’ he said calmly.
‘Well, that sentiment is not mutual, because I would really, really like to hurt you.’
‘How?’ He brought his face all the way to mine again, and for a moment I thought of headbutting him, but I knew how painful that was for the giver as well as the receiver.
‘Face it, Lizzy, I’ve got you.’
‘Never!’
He leaned even closer now, so close I could feel his breath on the side of my face. ‘Just make this easier on both of us and tap out.’
‘Over my dead body!’
Cam let out another laugh, low and rich, and my eyes – traitorous things that they were – drifted down to his lips.
Suddenly the room around us fell eerily silent, and all I could hear was the sound of our breathing.
We were both panting, and my heart was thundering in my ears, I could feel my pulse banging against my temples.
For a second – and I hated my brain for allowing it to happen – I flashed back to the last time Cam was on top of me like this.
Except then we’d been naked and the fast-beating hearts and panting had not been from wrestling.
Something flickered in his eyes, softening them momentarily, and I felt his grip on me loosen ever so slightly.
I seized the opportunity and twisted my hip.
The move sent pain shooting through me, but it worked.
I arched upwards just enough to create a small gap between us, then pulled my arm free and managed to get out from under him, but that still wasn’t enough.
I climbed onto his back, and with all my strength slipped my arm around his neck and trapped his head.
‘What were you saying about me tapping out?’ I asked.
Cam made some loud grunting sounds.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,’ I said gleefully. ‘Maybe speak up, I can’t quite hear you.’
He made another noise, so I pulled harder.
‘Did I hear you say something?’ I knew he had no way out of this.
That was the thing about ju-jitsu: even if a person was stronger than you, if you got them into a certain hold and submission, there was no escape.
I decided to remind him of that, in case he’d forgotten. I squeezed even harder.
‘Only one way to end this. Tap out!’ If he didn’t do it soon, with all the blood circulation cut off to his head, courtesy of my arm, it was only a matter of fifteen seconds or so until he was rendered fully unconscious. I held my breath, waiting. He was going to tap out, wasn’t he?
‘Cam! Tap out!’ I shook him, trying to shake sense into him. He’d better not be calling my bluff.
Not again.
Back in the days when I’d been in love with this man – God, in love – I’d fallen for it every single time.
I’d trap him, have him completely locked in, and then .
. . I’d let him go. Every single time. And every time, he’d spring back up, pin me down and smirk, ‘See? You do love me.’ I’d always told him to fuck off, but what I’d really wanted to say was Fuck me, and then tell me you love me too.
Pathetic!
But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t us then. This was us now, and right now, I hated the man I was squeezing the air out of. And he knew that. He knew I wouldn’t let him go this time.
Or would I?
Of course I wouldn’t. This man had cheated me out of the one thing I’d wanted more than anything.
I would hold on until he passed out and then make a run for it while he was dead to the world.
He’d simply wake up twenty seconds later, feeling a little disorientated but otherwise totally fine.
No harm done really. No harm at all, he would be totally fine . . .
‘Cam!’ I was counting down the seconds in my head. Seven, six . . .
‘Cam, tap out!’ I yelled into his ear. Five, four, three . . .
‘Fuck!’ I released him, but he didn’t move. He just lay there completely still. I prodded him with my finger, once, twice, but nothing.
Panic gripped me. ‘Shit!’ Maybe all the adrenaline flooding my veins had caused me to misinterpret the situation. Maybe he’d already passed out. Maybe I’d underestimated the force I’d used. Maybe he had developed some health problem I didn’t know about. Maybe, maybe . . .
I was straddling his back, trying to catch my breath, but when he still hadn’t moved at all, something cold and heavy dropped into the pit of my stomach.
No!
No!
No!
I was not going to do it. I was not going to care about him.
I refused to care about him. What I actually needed to do right now was to get the hell out of there.
I jumped to my feet and rushed over to my equipment, checking it one last time before running for the door.
But just as I was about to exit, just as my foot was about to cross that threshold, I stopped.
‘Lizzzzzyyyy.’ I scolded myself, but the second I did, I already knew I was going to do it. Dammit! I rushed back to Cam and dropped to my knees. As I leaned over him, the scent hit me. So familiar. That hair wax, that cologne, he still smelt exactly the same—
I screamed as his arms shot out and grabbed me around the knees. Before I could react, he yanked hard, and suddenly my entire body was being lifted off the ground.
‘Cam!’ I yelled, but he didn’t stop. Instead he pulled my knees to his chest and wrapped his arm around them, clasping them tightly.
Then he stood up, and my entire body flopped backwards until I was dangling off him like a rag doll.
I twisted. Squirmed. Grabbed at my ankles frantically in an attempt to break free of his hold, but it was pointless.
And impressive. Not many men would be able to lift my ninety-kilogram frame.
But then I’d forgotten that Cam wasn’t many men.
Something fell over my face, covering my eyes and mouth as if I was wearing a veil on my wedding day.
I tried to blow it away, but it just billowed up momentarily and then fell back down. What the hell was it?
And that was when I realised that my dress was now hanging over my head as I dangled upside down in Cam’s grip, my crotch planted firmly in his face with nothing but a stupid tiny bikini covering it.
This was so undignified, and so not how I ever imagined our reunion going.
And I had no way of getting out of it. He knew that, and now, unfortunately, so did I.
‘I should have let you pass out!’ I said, as the blood began pooling in my face.
I put one of my hands on the floor behind me, engaged a core that I’d spent years working on in the gym and on the rugby field, and smoothly pulled myself up, pushing my dress between my legs.
With the veil lifted, I was finally able to stare into his face.
‘Impressive,’ he said, nodding at me. ‘Not that I would expect anything less from you.’
I did not want his approval.
‘What can I say, I’ve been working out.’
‘I can see that.’ He made no attempt to hide the fact that his eyes were sweeping across my broad shoulders.
I shook my head at him in disdain. ‘I really, really should have let you pass out.’
‘But you didn’t,’ he said.
‘And believe me, I have deep regrets.’
And then a small smile started snaking across those stupid lips of his. ‘See, you do still love me.’
I jerked back in response to those audacious words. It felt like they’d balled themselves into a fist and punched me in the gut. Those words held so much meaning for us, and I hated that he’d just said them out loud.
The air between us stilled. Because we both knew it had been real once, even if it had only been for a moment. Those words might have started out as a joke, but they’d definitely not ended as one.
Shit.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But it was what we used to say to each other . . . well, what I used to say to her whenever she released me from a submission. But now, after everything that had happened between us, those words had a weight to them that couldn’t be lightened by my joking tone.
What do they say about jokes . . . many a true word? Because between the chokeholds, between her rolling her eyes and me pretending not to care, there’d always been something underneath it. The truth.
But now the words felt awkward in my mouth, almost tainted. Like something precious that had been cracked and put back together. And you knew it would never be the same again.