It was huge. But it would have to be because sitting in the center of the all-white room was a full-sized boxing ring.
Charming was in the center of the ring, going through movements that up until now I had only watched on TV.
I stood in the doorway a long time. Watching him move was mesmerizing. His body was so fluid, so strong. It’s like he was exactly sure about every punch and jab he made. His skin glistened with the sheen of sweat and his usually perfect hair was ruffled and damp around his ears and forehead. The gloves on his hands were big. They looked heavy, but somehow strapped onto the ends of his arms, they seemed small.
He was in his element; that much was clear. The breath that whooshed and wheezed out of him as he practically danced around the ring created an odd sort of cadence that was like music as I stared.
I felt like a voyeur, like someone seeing something they weren’t meant to see… Yet the idea of turning away, of leaving him to his privacy, was more than I could bear.
I needed to see him like this. I wanted to.
The changes in him, the changes that started in L.A. and followed us here… I finally knew what exactly I was feeling. He was becoming human. Where he once seemed cold and shutdown, he now looked more alive than half the people I knew.
Butterflies with razorblade wings.
That’s how he made me feel. It was the feeling that plagued me since we had met, the feeling that took me so long to acknowledge and even longer to identify. It’s exactly what he did to me.
Because the way I felt about him…
It hurt, but like a butterfly, it was beautiful. He made me feel like I was walking on the edge of a cliff. Like at any moment the bottom could fall out of my stomach. At any moment, the cliff’s edge could tumble away and I would be left falling… plunging toward the unknown.
The fluttering in my belly was never gentle. It was as if a million wings were in there beating, making me breathless, but then the wings would come into contact with me and slice me open. Being with him hurt. Being without him… I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might be worse.
I noticed he was no longer moving. He was standing in the center of the ring, watching me.
I pushed out of the doorframe, the heavy door swinging shut behind me and banging with an ominous finality.
When I got closer, he grabbed the ropes around the ring and created an opening, holding them while I ducked inside, straightening to face him.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, staring at his chest, following a rivulet of sweat that made a path all the way down his six-pack and disappeared beneath the thick waistband of the silver gym shorts hanging low on his hips.
“Me either.”
It wasn’t lost on me that the only thing separating me from him was the very flimsy fabric that made up those shorts.
“I didn’t know you had a boxing ring,” I said, my voice going hoarse.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
I was beginning to understand that. There were so many layers to him. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever uncover them all.
One of those butterfly wings nipped at my belly, causing a stinging sensation inside me.
I wanted to uncover every single part of him.
My eyes locked on his. Without looking away, I grabbed his arm, pulling the glove up between us. My fingers tugged on the string that kept the laces tight. It unraveled, loosening the hold the glove had on his hand. I brought my other hand up and gently, slowly yanked the glove off and dropped it onto the mat.
He watched me, his eyes heavy, as a thick cloud of desire grew between us.
I repeated the same process with his other hand until both of his hands were free. He reached for me, but I shook my head and laced my fingers through his. We stood there for a long time, hands clasped, staring at each other without saying a single word.
Maybe I was waiting for my conscience. Maybe I was waiting for him to turn me away. Maybe I was drawing out the anticipation until everything inside me was pulled so taut that I was sure I would snap apart.
None of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was the here, the now.
I released his hands and reached out, laying my palm against his stomach. His muscles rippled beneath my touch and my skin instantly became slick with his perspiration.
I stepped forward, done with waiting, and slid both my hands into the waistband of his shorts.
