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For every good fight I compete in, the next day, whether I won or lost, is almost always fucking painful. Normally I don't do much beyond very light stretching and a short run, and if I am not too sore, a long walk around the lake near my house later in the evening.
This morning isn't what I’m used to. It started with me not being a
ble to fall asleep after I got home from dropping Avery off. I must have thought of a hundred different things to say to keep her from shutting that door and maybe being invited in. I certainly didn't want to leave.
Groaning loudly as I roll out of my king-size bed, I stretch out my arms and wince at my left hand. It still hurts, but not nearly as bad as it did last night. My right thigh though is showing a giant fucking bruise. Ethan’s kicks last night left me a painful reminder. It's 6 am and I can't help but want to go back to sleep and I would, if only I could stop thinking of her.
All I can think of is Avery.
Standing isn't fun either but I know better than to just lie around in bed, vegging out. It may be all I want to do, but I need to get moving. When you get battered around like I did last night, you have to work your body out to help relax the tight muscles.
I wince slightly as I brush my teeth. My jaws is tight and swollen from last night’s punches.
Looking into the mirror, I see a man much closer to thirty than twenty with closely cropped dark brown hair and muddy brown eyes. The thick goatee around my mouth needs to go, I think. And the black eyes also make me look nice and fucked up.
It’s no wonder Avery looked so terrified when I was leaving the ring. I must have been bloody and swollen when I grinned at her.
Walking down the hall then down the stairs, I enter my living room and gaze out the front windows. Dale's car is gone so he must have got it some time after I got home.
Hopefully he asked Doc Miles out. He's been sniffing around her since she came to town and started working at the fights.
I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, chugging it down as I go out the back door. I sit down on the stoop and tie on my shoes. It's time for my run. I may feel like shit but this is going to help.
***
Dammit, I think to myself as I look in the fridge. It’s the third time I’ve done so in the last five minutes. The fridge is full but I don't want anything in it.
I want Avery and donuts I have to admit to myself.
I’m not the biggest health nut of all the fighters I know, but I try to keep a good diet in place. Donuts though... Yeah they are one of those weaknesses I try to ignore.
I get dressed and head out of the house, walking into the garage. I look at my two vehicles. It’s either the Impala or my Jeep. With where I am about to go, I don't want to put my baby in too much danger. I get into the Jeep and pull out, heading for the closest donut place I can get to. They know me all too well there.
I'm surprised when I’m pulling in front of Avery's apartment when I swear I was intending to head straight home. But then again, two coffees, a bag of bagels and a bag of donuts might mean I had no intention of going home.
She has my head pretty wrapped up in those legs of hers. Holy shit, they’re fantastic looking.
I knock quietly a couple of times. Who the hell is Sebastian? I don't hear anyone moving inside her apartment.
A quiet meow echoes on the other side of the door though, and I can't help thinking the cat is calling out for help. I left Avery here in the slums and someone murdered her in the middle of the night. The cat is calling out for me to help his poor dead owner.
I have to shake my head at the absurd visual but that doesn't stop me from knocking a bit harder on the door than I intended. Okay, maybe I knocked hard more than a couple of times. I seriously consider either kicking the door down or walking away as I realize I need to get a grip.
“Seriously! I’m coming, just a second!” I hear her yell through the door.
I start to lower my hand as the door flies open.
There, standing in front of me is one of the sexiest women I have ever seen in my life.
Avery’s jet black hair is all over the place. Her eyes look like raccoon eyes from the makeup she must have slept in. I look down at her magnificent body and see her pale skin in contrast to the black cotton boyshort panties and the lacy black bra. My god, she is sexy. I just wish I was the cause of her waking up in such a state.
“It's you?!” she says before slamming the door back into my face.
I stand there for a moment not exactly sure if she is coming back. I bend down and pick up the coffee and bag of food. Standing up, I wait for a few more seconds and frown. Should I knock again? I hope she’s coming back.
The door swings open.
“Hi,” she pants as if she was just running.
