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“They probably know me from my fights.”
I snort unattractively. “Yeah, because all women are so into boxing.”
“They could be.”
The woman’s thirsty eyes roam from Lance to me, doing a long sweep, and I know her line of thought, I can read it clearly with her expression. ‘What’s he doing with you?’
The answer today is, I’m not sure. I hate this feeling. I hate that she has me questioning it myself. I hate that a complete stranger has this power over me. I hate that I let her have it. Sending up a prayer, I glance over at Lance, who seems completely unaffected by her and unaware of her reaction to me.
And I’m thankful.
Thankful he never knew just how hard it was to be loved by him. Thankful he doesn’t see me in the same pathetic light. Thankful I didn’t let my past insecurities break me entirely or the looks I got on campus at Grand, much like the one I just received, take their toll.
I want to believe that’s the truth, but my scars begin to burn in afterthought, a reminder of the casualty. The evidence walks next to me, telling me my previous convictions are unjustified, and I don’t have grounds enough to feel any type of pride.
The truth is searing. I didn’t win that fight, and I damn sure didn’t come out of it unscathed, or unbroken. I just came out of it, and I’m not sure what that makes me anymore.
“You have thousands of followers, and I’m willing to bet a good bit of them are women. Stop making excuses. You don’t have to downplay your looks.”
“That’s not me. You know I don’t give a damn about that,” he says, nudging me. “You jealous, Priss?”
I am. Briefly, I wonder how many beds he’s graced since our split. I had to force myself away from that line of thinking soon after our breakup, or I would’ve lost my mind. We make our way toward the subway, and the women’s stares follow like dominoes. He’s drawing the attention of a freaking movie star, and honestly, he looks the part.
“Seriously? You can’t see this?”
He smirks down at his boots as we wait for our train. “All I see is you. And your flaring nostrils.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Penn Station, this is us,” I say as Lance scours our surroundings on the subway. I hide my grin at his discomfort. Though his expression is stoic, I know this man, and I pride myself on recognizing he’s not so comfortable yet in this environment. It’s as if at any second he’s expecting to feel the rumble of Godzilla terrorizing the streets while picking off skyscrapers.
“I see you laughing at me.”
Well, damn, maybe he can still read me as well. I can’t help my giggle.
“Sorry, it’s just funny to see you looking around ill at ease, country boy. I know you’re used to more cows on the pasture than people.”
“I saw a man in a diaper in Times Square on my run.”
“Ah, I would have thought the Naked Cowboy would have brought you some comfort.”
“Still have a mouth on you,” he grumbles, poking his head out of the car, blocking my exit and looking both ways before allowing me off the subway. I laugh as he jerks me close to him by the elbow.
“It’s okay, Lance. We’re safe.”
“That’s subjective,” he mutters as we step out, and he follows my lead up the steps and onto the street until he sees our destination. Once we cross 8th Avenue, he stares up at the building, dumbstruck. “Madison Square Garden?”
“You said you already saw the city. Now it’s time for you to meet the bones, come on.” I take his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate. I can’t help but welcome the swarm of butterflies as he strokes the skin on the back of my hand with his thumb. Our eyes connect, and so do we, it’s effortless. Lips parting, pulse thrumming, I pull my phone from my jacket using my free hand to send off a text. A few moments later, an entrance door pops open, and we’re ushered inside by one of Nana’s oldest friends.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Charlie says before pulling me into a hug. “How’ve you been?”
“Great, Charlie. Thanks so much for this. We were hoping to take a look around if that’s okay?”
“It’s fine. I was happy when I got your call. How is Amelia?”
“Nana’s doing well. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here during the holiday.”
“Leaving New York at Christmas? Blasphemy, but I have no big plans. They’re about to start setting up for the show tonight, so I can only give you a few.”
