Chapter Eight
Nick
I’ve been tossing and turning, and have watched the clock go from one to two to three. I have yet to fall asleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the way that man pinned Meghan to her car and then practically threw her against it. I can still see the fear in her eyes, even through the darkened night, as she gazed up at me from the cold, dirty concrete.
My gut churns with anxiety and my body hums with a powerful urge to put my fist through a wall. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve felt this reckless, this irritable.
Tossing my blanket off my legs, I run my hand down my weary face and throw my legs over my bed. The hardwood floors are cool as I head to the kitchen for some water. The night is still black, the neighborhood silent. No dogs bark, no horns honk, and no kids play outside. It’s almost peaceful.
If only my mind were in the same state.
Instead, my brain is like the ball in the Pinball game. Roll…bounce off the side…clang into the bumper…roll…get smacked in the face by the flipper. That’s me. The ball slammed into objects by the damn flipper. For fun.
I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. I need to let off a little steam, and there’s only one thing to do. Heading to my bedroom to change into workout clothes, my attention is pulled to my vibrating cell phone. Glancing down and expecting to see the emergency service I use for immediate dental situations, I still when I see her name.
Meghan.
Swiping my finger, I pull up her message.
Meghan: I’m sure you’re asleep, but I wanted to tell you that I’m starting to feel better.
Me: Really?
The bubbles appear right away.
Meghan: No, not really. Actually, I can’t sleep. My head is pounding and every time I close my eyes, I see his face.
Me: I’m the same way. I still feel horrible this happened to you.
Meghan: Please don’t start that “it’s my fault” crap again. *insert winky face*
Me: Fine. I won’t say it.
Meghan: Or think it.
Me: Anyway, you should try to get some sleep.
Meghan: Pot, meet kettle.
Me: I caught a catnap.
Liar.
Meghan: I don’t believe you. What are you doing?
Drinking the last of my water, I take my phone into the living room and have a seat on the couch.
Me: Thinking about going to the gym.
Meghan: That sounds horrible.
Me: It’s not so bad.
Meghan: I’d rather have my ducking fingernails pulled off with tweezers. *insert getting sick emoji*
Me: What’s ducking fingernails? You have some sort of fungus that I need to know about?
Meghan: Autocorrect hates me. No one says ducking. No one. It’s fucking, autocorrect. F.U.C.K.I.N.G. *insert angry emoji*
Suddenly, I’m sweating.
And horny.
And not sure how to respond, because all I can think about is fucking, and not in the adjective sense as she just used. I’m imagining the dirty, sweaty, naked kind, and I’m ashamed to acknowledge who has the starring role in the fantasy. I’m a horrible person.
Meghan: Anyway, I’m going to take more Tylenol and try to rest. I tried to read, but it hurt too much to focus on the words. Maybe if I find one of those boring war history shows you like to watch, maybe I’ll fall asleep. *winky emoji*
Me: I think you were autocorrected again. Those shows are amazing and educational.
Meghan: Nope, no autocorrect. *sticking out tongue emoji*
Me: You’ll be able to tell the difference between an eighteenth century bayonet and a Civil War Bowie knife in no time.
Meghan: I’ll be asleep in no time.
Me: Then I guess my work here is done.
Meghan: I actually do feel a little sleepy. Thank you for the talk.
Yawning, I sag into my couch, realizing just how exhausted I really am.
Me: Me too.
Meghan: Good. G’nigh Nicholas. Balk at you toon.
Me: *smiling emoji* Autocorrect and exhaustion don’t mix. G’night, Meggy Pie.
Meghan: *sleepy emoji*
My eyes start to cross as I set my alarm for six thirty and place my phone on the coffee table. I grab the blanket on the back of the couch and use it for a pillow, as I lie on my side and get comfortable. It doesn’t take much, since my body is just done. My limbs feel like they’re numb and my eyelids are weighted. The magnitude of the last eight hours has finally caught up to me.
I don’t think about the asshole who hurt Meghan. I don’t think about the pleasure I felt when I punched him in the face and knocked him down. I don’t think about the fear in her eyes or the dark purple bruise that developed on her head.
Oh, I think about her, but not the bad. I think about her smile when she greeted me yesterday morning and the way she intentionally kicked my chair when I came in for the final exam on one of the patients she just finished.
It’s that smile and those sparkling green eyes that lull me into a deep sleep.
* * *
“And you didn’t beat the shit out of him?” Rhenn asks, moving from his fighting stance and dropping his gloved hands to his side.
“It took everything I had not to. I wanted to,” I tell him, letting go of the bag he was just pummeling. “I almost did, but then I looked over at her on the ground and knew killing him wasn’t the answer.”
“You should have called me. I would have taken care of that asshole,” Rhenn says right before slamming his fist into the bag once more, sending it flying into my face since I’m not holding it steady.
“Nice, asshole.” His chuckle follows me over to the water cooler as I grab another drink of cold water.
We’ve been working hard as we approach the end of the season. Rhenn always finishes classes by the end of May. It’s too hard to compete with all of the other summer activities and vacations, so we’ll finish out this year at the end of the month and pick it back up again in September.
“I think you’ve been a little pissy since your last date dumped you for another guy,” he says, dropping his gloves on the bench and grabbing a cup of water.
“That’s all you got out of that, isn’t it?” I huff.
“She was a sure thing. If she was anything like her friend, she would have been blowing your mind all fucking night,” he smirks.
“You’re something, man.”
“I know,” he boasts with a big smile as if that were a compliment.
“Anyway, next Wednesday, I’m bringing Meghan by after class to show her a few things. I hope that’s okay.”
Rhenn actually turns serious. “Of course it’s okay. Do you want my help?”
“No, I think I can handle it.”
Again, he smirks. “I’m sure you will, but be careful. You’ve been friend-zoned so long, you’ll probably have to forward all of your mail there.”
I shake my head and refuse to comment. I decided last night when I was teaching my Wednesday night Little Dragons class that Meghan needed to learn a few basic self-defense maneuvers. If it goes well, I’m going to suggest she attend next Friday’s class for women. My thought process is she can learn a few things next Wednesday night, and then hopefully I can convince her to come the following Friday when Rhenn and the rest of the students will be there. It’ll be good practice for her.
“You should bring her Friday,” he says.
“The thought crossed my mind,” I reply casually. “I’m not sure if she has anything going on already. Maybe one of her sisters’ gatherings,” I add with a shrug.
“Sisters! I forgot about them. Bring them too,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Take a cold shower, dude. They’re all either married or in committed relationships. Besides, they’d all have too much class for a loser like you.” I’m able to smile moments before the gloves come flying at me and nail me in the face.
“Take that back,” he says.
“Never. You’re a whore, and you know it.”
“I am,” he grins mischievously.
“One of these days, someone is going to knock you off that self-imposed throne you have yourself perched on. She’ll have you eating out of the palm of her hand and your balls stuffed so far in her purse that you won’t know what to do with yourself.”
He advances quickly, but I know his games. We’ve been friends for too damn long and fought together on the mat for me not to learn a thing or two about Rhenn. He throws his arms around my neck, but I spin and sweep my leg at his. He counters quickly, throwing his right leg at my left, ultimately knocking us both down to the hard floor.
“Damn,” I laugh. “Couldn’t you have done that on a mat?” I ask, rolling over to my stomach.
“Me? You kicked me first, asshole,” he grunts as he lifts himself up onto his elbows. “I’m going to make you pay for that Saturday morning on the treadmill.”
I snort and look over at my friend. I really can’t wait for some woman to knock him down a few branches and make him a one-woman man. It’s happened before. In college. He was completely into Suzanne Jaskula, throwing around the I-love-you’s and making plans for the future, until he caught her in bed with one of our frat brothers. You know, that asshole guy that no one in the fraternity likes, but was old enough to buy beer and had the money none of us working college kids had to keep our fridge stocked? After that, my best friend turned into a manwhore, completely closed off from any sort of relationship outside of the physical. Surprisingly, there are plenty of women out there looking for a little no-strings fun, and Rhenn always has a way of finding them.
Me? I’ve never been into one-night stands. I’m more of a committed relationship kinda guy, and it has always been one of the constant sources of ribbings from my friend. But I don’t care. It’s just not my shot of vodka. Doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened; just that it doesn’t happen often.
“Monday I’m taking the boat out. Be at the dock at ten,” he says, referring to his thirty-eight foot sailboat docked at the Marina. It has way more speed than Rhenn needs, but he has always been about barreling full-steam ahead as often as possible.
“Fine. I’ll bring the food this time,” I reply. Last time we took the boat out, he remembered about every type of alcohol imaginable, yet forgot to bring substance for our stomachs. It made for a long, miserable day at sea.
“Drinks tomorrow night after class?” he asks, getting up off the floor.
“Sure. I’ll drive myself since you have a habit of ditching me for blondes in short skirts,” I answer, getting up off the floor myself.
“Why you gotta be like that?” he asks, fretting hurt. “It’s not just blondes, dude. I like brunettes, too. And redheads. I fucking love redheads. They’re wild as hell.” He barks out a laugh that leaves me shaking my head.
Oh yeah, I’m going to enjoy watching him fall hard.
Hopefully, sooner. You know, before he comes down with an STD.