Page 60 of Sterling Fight

Her smile is gentle, like she might like the nickname. She is the brightest thing in this room, and the brightest thing in my life.

And I watch as she takes that light with her, out of the dining nook, and across the living room until I can’t see her anymore.

Suddenly, the need to expel energy hits me hard.

Quickly, I’m in workout shorts, gloves on, and at the punching bag in my home gym, running through a routine I’ve already practiced this morning.

Right. Right. Left.

Left. Left. Right.

Hooks and jabs. Upper cuts.

Time passes as I dance around the heavy bag.

On and on and on, I go through the rhythm, stretching my muscles, sweat beading on my skin, as I work to numb my mind.

To rid myself of the dangerous dream of love and marriage and children with Genie.

To quell the desire to kiss her and hold her and learn every part of her that’s ticklish or sensitive.

To taste her and breathe her in and hear her sounds when my hands cover her skin.

Having her in my house is too much. Calling her my fiancée is too close to what I want from her. All these things feel like wishes I shouldn’t be making.

Then I hear a scream.

22

[Genie]

In the middle of the night, I leave my room to get a drink of water from the kitchen. Judd’s house feels exceptionally dark, and I hear the slight rhythmic sound of something being tapped somewhere down the hall leading to Judd’s portion of the house.

Tap. Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. Pause.

I consider investigating but I don’t want to intrude on Judd at such a late hour. For the third night in a row, he hasn’t made a move to kiss me, and it’s been all my fault. I blocked him the other day, then sent him into a tailspin of worry, and now we’re flirting in the friendzone when all I want to do is crush over the invisible boundary.

After retrieving a glass from an upper cabinet, I’m just about to set the container beneath the waterspout on his refrigerator when a violent crack of bright lightning illuminates the enter great room and scares the hell out of me.

I drop the glass and scream.

As my heart hammers like it wants out of the cage of my ribs, I flatten my palm against my chest and suck in a deep breath. I’m wearing sleep shorts and a tank top, and my exposed flesh is clammy. I’d giggle at my sudden panic if I didn’t feel struck dumb from the sudden flash or the deep roar of thunder that quickly follows.

I’ve also broken the glass, which shattered as it hit the strip of tile between the kitchen island and the sink slash work area, and in the darkness, I can’t tell where the shards of glass rest. My feet are bare.

“What happened?” The heavy exhale in Judd’s questions suggests he sprang from bed but when I glance up at him, he’s wearing a pair of shiny athletic shorts and tight-fitting shoes on his feet. His chest is bare and heaving from exertion. Tape covers his knuckles and hands.

“I was getting a drink of water, but the lightning struck and startled me.”

Judd makes to move closer, but I hold up a hand which would be difficult to see if it wasn’t for another flash of electric volts lighting up the sky.

I flinch, then anxiously giggle.

Judd takes another step forward, but with my hand still lifted, I warn him, “Stop. I broke a glass.”

He ignores my caution and takes the final steps to close the distance between us. Glass crunches beneath his feet as he sweeps in and scoops me up, setting me on the island countertop.

“Your feet,” I state, concerned that despite his shoes, the glass will puncture them.