Southpaw (3 page)

“Try to deepen your
poses and always try to stay centered.” Piper ignores my comment.

I’m about to throw back
a sarcastic reply when
she
walks in with
that
smile on her face.
The smile I remember from last night. The smile that she gave to me.

Olivia.

She walks up to the
front of the room in fitted black pants and a red tank top that makes my blood
hot. She surveys the class, looking toward the back first and then moving up
the rows of yoga mats to me. Her eyes catch mine, and her lips curl up in
recognition. I want to tell her I’m more than a pleasant surprise, but she
ducks her blonde ponytail down, clears her throat and begins talking.

This class is going to
be way
harder
and
better
than I anticipated.

“I want to welcome you
all to class. We are going to work on holding and deepening the poses we
learned last week. If you are new, please start slowly and take as many breaks
as you need.” She looks at me with endless blue eyes, and somehow I’m slightly
bending my own head as if she sees right through me. It feels like an eternity
before she speaks again.

Olivia clears her
throat and then says, “Let’s get started.”

I finally shoot Piper a
questioning look and all she does is smile a torturous grin that tells me that
Piper is insane and also quite possibly the best friend I could ever have.

The next hour is painful
pleasure as I try to focus on replicating the movements of Olivia’s agile and
incredibly flexible body. Each time my body doesn’t obey, Olivia’s hands are on
me, stretching my leg or arm further or attempting to release my back. But her
hands have the opposite effect on me than she intends. Every time she touches
me, I tense up, feeling the warmth of her hands against my skin. They’re strong
and delicate at the same time, and I can’t stop imagining what I want her to do
with those hands. And I can’t help noticing that she’s helping me more than
anyone else in the class. I want to think that it’s because she wants to feel
the same thing I’m feeling with every touch and not because I am completely
inept at yoga. I can hear her breath between the faint flute sounds and bird
chirps.

Damn it, Piper
Sullivan.

She could have done
what any normal person would have done. She could have asked Olivia for her
number and passed it along to me. Or she could have slipped Olivia my number.
Or she could have asked Olivia if she was interested in me. She could have done
a million other things than make me come to the class without telling me that
Olivia is the instructor and will have her hands all over me.

By the time the class
is over, my shirt is drenched in sweat and despite Piper’s claim it would relax
every single tension in my body, I’m wired and all hopped up like one of the
trust-fund frat guys on coke.

“Thanks for a great
class. Namaste,” Olivia says softly with her hands clasped in front of her
chest.

“Namaste,” Piper
replies before she starts to roll up her mat. The rustle behind me indicates
that the rest of the women are doing the same so I follow their lead, watching
Olivia the whole time. She bends down, rolls up her mat, and tucks it
underneath her arm in a few quick movements. As she stands ups, her eyes fall
on me again. She catches me staring.

“Namaste,” I repeat
with my mat tucked underneath my arm. She arches her eyebrow, and I’m about to
rattle off one of my signature lines when Piper beats me to Olivia. Trust me, I
don’t actually practice these lines. They just come out before I can stop them,
but they always work. At least girls don’t complain in the morning.

“It’s a pleasure to see
you again, Kelly. How’s your hand?” she asks with a smile that makes my heart bang.
I’m pretty sure my heart has never banged. Not once. I’m not a banging kind of
guy, well at least in regards to my heart.

Damn it. I don’t know
how this girl is doing this to me. I’m used to being in control with women, but
everything about Olivia makes me feel out of control. It’s that damn smile from
last night.

“Never been better,” I
reply. “How’s Beyer doing?” I really don’t care how he is doing, but I ask
anyway because it’s the right thing to do. If I have any luck, she’ll tell me
that she’s dumped him and moved on to greener pastures: The Kelly Rolling
Hills.

“Oh, he’s fine, except
his ego is hurt a bit. He’s never been knocked out before,” Olivia replies. “It
was about time that jerk got knocked out.”

“Well, there’s a first
for everything,” I reply. Piper makes a sound that I can’t quite make out -
half snort, half laugh maybe - before taking a few steps back. She begins talking
with another woman from class. I run through what Olivia said, and a certain
word catches in my head. “Jerk?”

“Yeah, Jax is a first
rate asshole.”

“Most girls don’t call
their boyfriends assholes,” I say. I can’t take my eyes off the curves of her lush
pink lips. She takes note; otherwise, it’s a cruel coincidence because she
gently bites down on her lower lip before she speaks.

“You think Jax is my
boyfriend?” Her eyes widen and then she lets out a small laugh. “The guy that
you knocked out? You think I’d date someone like that?”

“Oh, I thought I heard
that somewhere.” I want to drag Piper over here and elbow her a dozen times in
her ribs or maybe put her in a sleeper hold. Nighty night, Pipes. Instead, I focus
on Olivia’s eyes. As long as I keep it above the neck, I think I’ll manage to
make it through this conversation.

“Well, you heard wrong.
Mick is my cousin. He called me because he was in a pinch. He agreed to pay me
fifty bucks to walk across the ring since the regular ring girl was a no show.
I figured fifty bucks for two minutes would be worth it, plus I owed him one.”

Yeah, I know Betsy
alright. Or maybe her name’s Bethanny.

“After he ‘accidentally’
poured beer on my shirt, I made him pay me a hundred,” she adds, putting her
hand on her hip. “Family. Believe me, I’m not that easy.”

I sweat her last word.
“Good to know you’re a girl with morals and strong negotiation skills. Are you
going to be a regular on Tuesday nights now?”

“No. It’s easy money,
but I’m not
that
hard up on cash. Plus, I hate watching people beat each
other to a bloody pulp. There’s something about the sound of flesh getting
smacked and the crunch of bones that makes my toes curl. Mick dragged me along.
It was my first and last fight on Tuesday nights. I’m a lover not a fighter,
hence the whole yoga scene.”

“So that’s why you
jumped at helping Jax…”

“Yeah, I can’t help
myself. I’m one of those people who picks up injured animals on the side of the
highway. Once I drove thirty minutes to a vet with a bloody, red-tailed fox on
my lap.”

“A wild fox that could
have been a carrier for rabies? That thing could have scratched your eyes out.
Did you save it?”

“That’s not the point,”
she says.

“Did you save it?” I
ask again, trying not to crack a smile.

“No, they euthanized
it,” she says. At first she has a sad look on her face, then she starts to
laugh. “His poor little face was in so much pain.”

“I bet.” I finally let
go of the smile that I’ve been trying to hide.

“So, how did you like
class?” Olivia asks as she starts walking toward the door. I suddenly realize
the countdown is on to make a move before we hit that door. There’s no way I’m
leaving this studio without Olivia’s number.

“It was my first class,
as I’m sure you noticed,” I say. “Not that I had a problem with it or anything.
The special attention from the instructor was worth every single bead of
sweat.”

“I’m glad.” She laughs
a sweet, contagious laugh that makes my heart falter again.

Damn it.

“It won’t be my last
class with you,” I reply. The door is only a few feet away and for some reason,
I’m getting this panicky feeling like I’ll never see her again and all I want
to do is get her number so I can’t lose this girl who actually makes me feel
something
.

“Oh yeah?” She finally
stops and eyes me carefully.

“Well, I was actually
thinking more of a date instead of a class. Although, I will be a willing
student in whatever you want to teach me.”

Her face falls. “I
don’t date guys like you.”

“Guys like what?”

“Guys like
that
.
Guys who have a line for everything.”

“Forget I said that
last part. Just focus on the date. Would you be interested in a date?” I ask,
rushing as she starts walking again. I want to show her I’m not
that
kind of guy.

“I don’t date fighters,”
she replies without looking at me.

I’m silent for a
second, racking my brain for something intelligent to say to convince her to go
out with me. Damn, I can’t believe I’m even thinking about a date. Then it hits
me.

“How about a non-date?”
I ask, keeping pace with her as she nears the door.

“A non-date?” she asks,
her interest finally piquing.

“Yeah, a non-date. I
promise not to pack a picnic dinner, blanket, or wine. You can tell me all the
things you hate about me, and I can tell you all the things I hate about you.
We can talk politics, religion, pharmaceuticals, healthcare, and underground
fight rings. The quintessential non-date. I’ll even let you pick what we do.” I’ll
let Olivia think she’s in control and then BAM, hit her with ‘The Dude’ when she’s
least expecting it.

“The quintessential
non-date?” She stops again, narrows her eyes, and puts her hand back on her
hip. “You promise? I hate men who are liars.”

“Looks like you already
started our non-date,” I reply with a killer grin.

“Bye ladies, see you
next week,” she says to a pair of brown ponytails walking by. She turns back to
me. “Tomorrow night. Wingra Boats. Six o’clock. ”

“Wingra Boats. Six. You
got it.” I’m about to ask for her number, but she turns to leave.

“Don’t be late,” she
calls over her shoulder as she walks down the hall.

“Where can I pick you
up?” I yell back.

“Nowhere. I’ll meet you
there.”

Her hips knock back and
forth in the tight black pants, showcasing every single curve of her toned
body. I feel an elbow in my ribs and Piper’s presence next to me, but I can’t
take my eyes off Olivia walking away from me.

And then she’s gone. I
don’t have her number, but I don’t care because I have something better. A
non-date.

Chapter 3

I’ve never been stood up by a girl, but
it’s happening right now. I slip my phone out of my pocket one last time: 6:17.
I’ve been standing on this damn dock for more than twenty minutes. I never wait
for anyone, ever, but I’m still standing here waiting for this girl and her
smile and eating the exact words that I said to her yesterday:
There’s a
first for everything
.

Piper was right. I
shouldn’t have been so smug leaving the yoga studio without her number. I
shouldn’t have trusted that things would work out easily. ‘Always get a
number,’ Piper scolded in a condescending voice. She has experience, both with
condescending and making decisions that alter life courses. She didn’t leave
Cash Rowland her number the day her father forced her to move to Madison when
she was seventeen. Piper hasn’t seen him for over four years, even though they
live only two hours away. She claims she’s leaving it up to the universe to see
if they belong together. I think she’s full of shit and too scared to deal with
the past that pulled them apart. Not that I have anything bold to say about
shady pasts.

I turn away from the
parking lot and back to the open waters of Wingra Lake. The water’s still
colder than a witch’s tit this time of year, but we Badgers are foolishly
optimistic about summer and the temperatures of our lakes. Hell, it’s probably
only seventy degrees out right now, and I’m sweating in a pair of shorts and
t-shirt. I start envisioning Olivia in a swimsuit,
again
, and surrender
to staying for one more minute. I think about how she chose this as our first
date, or non-date. Usually, it’s just dinner and drinks and then my place. Or
on a good night, drinks and then my place. Or on an even better night, just my
place.

But the blonde staying
on my couch has thrown a wrench in that operation for the last ten weeks. The
first time I tried to bring a girl home, Piper banged on my door until I
couldn’t bang no more. Hell, I was in a dry spell, and things are getting dryer
each day.

I try to ignore this
fact and take stock of the rainbow of paddleboards lining the dock. A guy half my
size comes toward me and picks up a paddle from a plastic barrel and says,
“You’ve been standing here for a while. Do you need some help or something?”

He’s a freckled ginger
with a pimply face in his late teens. Something about the way he asked if I
needed help hits me the wrong way. He stares at me breathing through his mouth
like the little shit he is. I’m about to break his goddamn paddle in two when a
voice like honey cuts through my ear.

“I’m so glad you could
make it,” she says. I turn to see Olivia in a white, see-through dress that
accentuates a black swimsuit beneath. She’s got a bag slung over her shoulder,
walking casually toward me like she isn’t a minute late. I look back at the
swimsuit beneath the dress and decide the wait was worth every second. After
all, I’m in a dry spell. Dr. Denise says this so-called dry spell is an
opportunity to explore the void in my life. A void, according to her, I attempt
to fill with meaningless relationships. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll go
full-circle and say the only void I’m experiencing is a lack of women.

“Same to you,” I reply.
She studies my face, waiting for me to react that she was late, but I don’t
give her the satisfaction.