“I just… I want you to come and see me fight. Cheer me on.” He sounded so defeated. “Just watch one fight, and then let me know what you think. Okay?”
It hurt me to hear him sound that way. He really wanted my approval to keep doing this.
And if he liked it… what was the harm? I just wanted him to be happy. “Okay. One fight. I’ll give it a chance.”
Maybe itwaslike boxing, and the bad things I heard about the club were just rumors. Maybe the fight club wasn’t as bad as I thought— though the proof I was right was smashed all over Charlie’s face.
Oberi gave a couple barks of relief, and Charlie relaxed. He didn’t say another word about it. Instead, he reached out to stroke my arm. “I’ve been looking for you since I got up. Ez said you were having... issues.”
My snitch brother was asking for it. “I’m completely fine,” I said. “I just have a lot to do. I have three papers I’m behind on that I should get done by midnight.”
“All in one day?” His tone was doubtful.
I whooshed out a breath. “Look, you don’t get it. If I don’t get everything done right away, when I crash later,nothingwill get done. I have to do it all now.”
“What you need is a consistent schedule on the weekends,” Charlie said firmly. “Your symptoms get worse if you don’t have one, I noticed. We should make one together.”
“Prison is already so structured!” I complained. “I can’t wipe my ass without someone knowing about it! I want to befree.”
“Don’t whine, pidge. Just do as you're told."
"Make me."
Charlie's mouth twisted humorously. "You're a brat."
"But I'myourbrat," I said innocently, batting my eyelashes.
Charlie wrapped a hand around my hip and squeezed me to his side. "Yep. You're mine."
A funny feeling went through me then, when Charlie called mehis. Oberi spun around our legs, like he wanted to press us closer together.
Charlie bent down to kiss me, and my body instantly melted when he did. I slipped my hands under his shirt and roamed his chest, feeling his abs— and maybe looking for any other injuries he might be hiding from me. He thought he could distract me with a sexy makeout session.
Well, maybe he could. I wasn’t complaining. Charlie’s mouth was warm and soft— his lips were a little swollen, probably from being clocked last night. I was gentle with him, so I didn’t hurt him further, but the way he pressed harder into me told me he didn’t care. He wanted me close, discomfort be damned.
Charlie pulled away all too soon. “We should probably eat something. I need to maintain weight for my next fight.”
Oberi was still full up from cookies. I couldn’t tell if he was walking or rolling. But at the mention of food, he began to drool.
Was everything about fighting, now that I knew? I forced my voice to sound light as I said, “Sure. Let’s get some lunch.”
Charlie couldn’t see me smile, so I didn’t have to plaster one on for him. It felt good.
They were serving chicken parmesan today— loaded with carbohydrates, starch, a ton of cheese, and a bunch of other things that just weren’t healthy. I was feeling massively guilty about the cookies I’d baked earlier and wished I hadn’t eaten any. I had the thought I was a shitty person for even making them— for even having the craving for sweets in the first place.
“I shouldn’t eat that,” I said quietly as we got in line. “It’s bad.”
“What?” Charlie paused.
“It’s not healthy,” I insisted. “And if Idoeat it, it means I’m a bad person, because I’m eating bad food.”
“Food is just food,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t have any power. It’s not good or bad. There’s no morality attached to it.”
“But itis. You don’t understand.” It was so hard to articulate into words what was going on in my head.
His tone grew softer. “Okay. If it upsets you, we’ll go with something else.”
Relieved, I put plain baked chicken and salad on our plate instead. Even so, Charlie’s frown remained in place. He thought my symptoms were getting worse, but what did he know? I’d lived with bipolar for years. I could ride the waves.
