She's sittin' right in front of me with them gorgeous legs of hers crossed at the ankles. It's hard not to stare. She looks even better than I remember, better than those pictures she sent. Her dark hair is longer now, falling over her shoulder and down her back and curling in at the ends. She's all dressed up for work, still in a dress even though it's damn near freezing outside. She looks pretty in it. The dark blue color makes her skin look real good. I pull my eyes up to her face. She's staring right back at me.
I smile at her and those lips of hers quirk up.
Brendan's living room has got cameras and lights in every corner. I should be used to these interviews by now, but they still make me uncomfortable. Everyone's looking at me: the camera guy, Brendan and Tess and Emily and Rosie. But the only one whose eyes matter is Nicole.
I know I'm still on thin ice with her, but being hurt has won me some sympathy points.
I didn't know what to expect when I saw her first. She looked nervous, but hell, I was too. I was trying to think of something slick to say and then she just blurted out a question 'bout what happened to me. I was kinda relieved, it gave me something to say, gave her an excuse to touch me. She's got tiny hands, so small that I can cover it up with my own. But those little fingers of hers weren't playing around when she was trying to see what happened to me.
She looked so worried. I know I should've been sweeter, should've said something slick.
I kissed her instead. I was planning on going slow, kissing her all soft the way girls like. Except the second my lips touched hers, I couldn't help myself. She tasted like mint and chocolate. Don't know how she always manages to taste so sweet, but it's better than candy.
I wanted to hold her, push her against the wall, lock the damn door and show her just how much I missed her. But she stopped me. She says I gotta talk to her, tell her everything privately. I ain't one for conversation, but if that's the price of her forgiving me, I'm willing to pay it. But right now I have to not fuck up an interview.
The camera is fired up and ready to go. "So Tommy," Nicole is sitting up straight, talking to me in her reporter voice. It's different than her voice was a few minutes ago, when she sounded all panicked and worried. She made me show her my injury. She looked like she was gonna cry. Broke my heart, seeing her worried like that, but it was kinda nice. She still cares about me, enough to worry. And tonight, I'm gonna get her back.
"It is great to see you back," she tells me. It sounds real platonic now, but 15 minutes ago, she almost sobbed the words out.
"It's nice to be back," I'm getting sick of saying it, but it's true.
"The whole country wants to know, what is next for Tommy Conlon?" She tilts her head to the side and looks at me hard. I know she wants to know the answer too.
I buy some time by clearing my throat and stretching my legs out. "I'm gonna get in the gym, start training again to fight."
I see something spark in her eyes, like she wants to say something, but she swallows it.
"I think fans will be excited about that," she says.
I shrug my shoulders, "Maybe. Guess we'll have to see." I wanna ask her how she feels about it, but I'll do that later.
"What does it feel like, becoming an overnight celebrity?" she asks me.
"Don't feel too much different. I still do the same stuff I always was doing. People just pay attention to it now."
She smiles a little bit at this. "People certainly are paying attention. And I am sure they would join me in welcoming you back, thanking you and wishing you luck."
I nod at this. She keeps on talking, asking me questions about training. She wants to know if Pop is going to keep training me, if Brendan will train too. She asks if I'm going to find a sponsor, and what I think about the culture behind MMA, all the show boasting and trash talking. Her questions have got me thinking, trying to answer in smart ways. I tell her I've always trained with Pop, and that's how it's gonna be. I tell her I don't know if Brendan still wants to fight, but if he does, I'm always ready for him. And I say I ain't never had time for all that posturing and struttin' around, but I get why the other guys do it.
It's hard, knowing the right thing to say. It ain't like I'm stupid, but Nicole is that kinda girl who's real educated, a college girl, a working girl. I ain't used to keeping up with women like her. The women I used to run with didn't challenge me at all. Seems like that's all Nicole does.
A half hour later and we're done. They pack it up, and Nicole makes some excuse to stay.
Her cameraman don't look like he gives two shits what she does. I wonder if this is the guy Gavin that she was talking about, but it doesn't seem like they're friends. This guy is graying and a little rough around the edges; I always got the feeling that Gavin was a young guy. Whoever this is, the cameraman ain't a threat to me. He's out the door quickly, leaving me alone with her.
I'm dying to get out of here, to go somewhere where I get Nicole all to myself. But Tess swoops in, talking to her like they're old pals.
I sit on the couch with my brother and watch them gab. My patience is starting to wear thin.
Brendan stands up off the couch, "let's go to bed, huh?" He takes his wife by the arm.
She looks like she ain't ready to stop talking, but looks over at me. I stare at her, trying to tell her without words to get out. She finally seems to get it.
"Good night you two," she waves at the both of us, "be good."
She starts giggling as she walks up the stairs. Her last little comment embarrasses me. But I don't have any plans on being good tonight.
"Wanna go for a walk?" I ask Nicole. "Sure," she smiles.
Ten minutes later, she's bundled up in a pair of my old sweatpants and a hoodie. It ain't the most attractive ensemble, but she still manages to look adorable. I tell her so. She seems surprised.
"Thank you," she says. She stares up at my face for a second before she slips her hand into mine, slowly, like she ain't sure it's ok. I pull her under my good arm cozily and steer her through the streets. She starts talking, telling me about work and football, filling the silence. I listen.
It's real good to hear her voice.
"Where do you wanna go?" I ask her. "This is your town," she smiles, "you pick."
I still want to take her out somewhere fancy, but now ain't the time. So I walk us into the first little restaurant I see. It's the middle of the week, so the place is pretty empty. We pick a table in the back. I wish it was a booth so I could slide in right next to her, but I pull her chair out with a wink and we sit down. We get back into our easy raillery until after the food arrives, when Nicole gets that serious look on her gorgeous face.
"So why didn't you write?" She looks me in the eyes. She hasn't touched her food.
"I couldn't. I was under orders."
"Is that normal, to get orders like that?" I'm starting to think that answering a lot of questions might be the downside to dating a journalist.
I shrug. "Depends."
"On what?"
"On if they want the folks back home to know what happened. Most of the time they don't."
She doesn't look surprised by this, but she's quiet for a long time. She picks at her food and keeps looking around, like she's nervous. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
"Want to get out of here?" she asks suddenly. "I just really want it to be just the two of us."
It's like she's reading my mind. We get our food all packed up in boxes and head out again. She hails a cab, gives an address. I don't ask where we're going, just reach for her hand. She leads me outta the car a few minutes later and into a hotel. I follow her up the stairs and into a room.
I'm glad to see her camera guy didn't sleep with her. She walks around the room for a little bit, pulling off layers and turning on lights. She grabs a lamp and brings it over to me.
"All right, Tommy. Let me see."
There ain't no point in arguing. I lift my shirt off again and start rolling the bandage down. She's starting to look green around the gills but she doesn't flinch or look away. She stares at it, every bloody, bruised inch. I tell her what happened, skirting around the grosser details. She just nods and stares at me, like she's trying to take it all in. "What are you going to do now?" she asks.
"Get back in shape." I thought we already covered that, but she looks like it's bothering her.
It ain't a minute later when she asks me if I think it's a good idea.
She thinks I should go to a shrink, put fighting on hold. It gets me fired up.
She don't get it, what fighting means to me.
It's what I've been doing my whole damn life, the one thing I'm good at. I was gonna go to the Olympics, but life got in the way. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let it get in the way again.
She must see the rage in my eyes, 'cause she jumps back like I hit her. The fight slips out of me in a second. I hate that look on her face, that fear. I don't want a woman to look at me that way, especially not Nicole. Makes me feel like shit, like I'm turning into the worst parts of Pop.
I try to say I'm sorry, but she runs off to the bathroom. I know she's crying in there.
I go in after her, try to talk her down. Maybe it's that heartbroken look on her face, the tears or the fact that deep down I know she's right, but she's got me agreeing to go see a therapist.
It means a lot to her; the look on her face when I say I'll go is like the sun suddenly came out.
She's got me agreeing to a lot tonight, including being her boyfriend.
It ain't like it was a hard choice to make. It's what I've wanted all along.
But still, it's a big moment for me. I ain't never been nobody's boyfriend before. There was never anyone who mattered enough and there wasn't space for a woman in my life. Until now.
I think I should've been the one to ask her. It's how I was raised, that the man takes the lead.
But maybe that's not how we work. She's always been the initiator, ever since Sparta last year.
I gotta think of something nice to do for her, something special. But right now it's hard to think about anything except the way she feels in my arms.
Nicole's sitting in my lap, tracing the tattoos on my chest. My skin tingles when she touches me.
It makes me warm all over. It's taking a lot of self-control not to just roll her over, but I let her set the pace. "When did you get your tattoos?" She traces the two masks on my right pec.
"Different times," I tell her. She looks up at me, silently begging me to explain.
"I got the masks with Manny. 'Smile now, cry later' was what he used to say when shit got bad."
Just thinking about Manny makes me want to smile and cry at the same time. I push him to the back of my mind. "I added Manny's Marine Corps ID number above it when he died."
She nods, then drops a soft kiss over them. I resist the urge to kiss her back.
"The one of the woman on my left shoulder is my Ma." I point to it. "Got it right when she started getting sick. She didn't like it. Hated my tattoos." I run my hand through my buzz cut.
Nicole silently nods for me to continue, running a finger over my Fighting Irish tattoo on my right arm. "That was my first one. Got it when I was 16. When I showed it to Ma, she cried. That one was probably a mistake. I tried to cover it up with the tribal one after I got in the Corps. Reminded me too much of home."
She kisses each tattoo as I tell her about it, silently listening while I talk. Each spot of ink means something to me. It's a story, written all over me. No one has ever asked what they meant before and I'm happy to tell Nicole.
"Do you have any tattoos?" I ask her.
"No," she tells me, her face splitting into a devilish grin, "you would have seen them already."
"Yeah?" I ask. "I think I better check again. Just in case."
She sighs dramatically, "If you must. Where do you want to check first?"
"Where do you want me to check?" I cock an eyebrow at her.
She licks her lips and starts pulling her dress down. I think I stop breathing. She's got on this see-through black lace bra. That ain't the sort of thing a woman just wears to work. It means she was expecting something, or maybe just hoping for it. Either way, it makes me damn happy.
"See anything?" Her voice is real soft and flirty. I ain't ever seen this side of her.
"Maybe," I tell her. "I need a closer look though." I lean forward and pull the straps down, kissing down her smooth shoulders and across her collarbone.
She sighs a little and leans into me. "How about now?" she asks. She starts pulling that little scrap of lace down so slow that it's gonna kill me. I let her take her time and just enjoy the show.
"You gotta show me the rest, sweetheart," it feels nice to call her that.
She leans in really close to my ear and whispers, "You are going to have to find it yourself, Tommy." The way she says my name, all husky, is the last straw.
I flip us over and press her into the mattress. Her hands start fumbling with my belt.
I would help her, but I'm too busy working her blue dress over her hips. Her panties match her bra, but it looks better off. In half a minute, our clothes end up in a pile somewhere.
I wanna go slow and make this last, but I need her. Besides, we've got all night.
She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down on her. I kiss her hard, tasting her and ignoring the burning in my chest. The pain ain't nothing compared to how she's making me feel.
"Please Tommy," she's panting now. "I need you."
That's all she had to say. I roll us both over again until we're sitting and pull her into my lap.
I slide into her with no problem, like my body remembers exactly where it's supposed to go.
She fits over me like a glove, wrapping her legs around my waist and squeezing. I grab her hips, holding her still on top of me. I need a moment to pull myself together.
Nothing feels as fantastic as being inside of Nicole. It's like I was made to fit her.
I start moving against her. She arches her back and leans into me. Her hair is falling all over the place. I grab a handful of it. She reaches for me, latching herself around my neck.
She's making some serious noise, but I gotta feeling I am too.
Every time I hit a good spot she gasps my name. Doesn't take me too long before I am thrusting full force and she's practically screaming. I love her like this. She's too buttoned up at work, too professional. There ain't nothing professional about how she's acting now.
I know that the neighbors have got to hear us, but I don't give a flying fuck. I waited months for this.
"Tommmmy!" She yells my name a second before she leans forward and kisses me. I bring my hand up to the back of her neck and hold her against her mouth. Her whole body tightens up, forcing us both over the edge.
It's over way too damn soon for me, but she looks worn out.
I feel better than I have in a long time. I lay us both down and she snuggles right up into my good side. If anyone ever asks, I'll never admit it, but I like the way she cuddles up to me in her sleep. It's like she trusts me.
"I just need a second," she pants, her eyes closed. Her hair is damp and slicked to her head.
It's starting to curl up the way I like it. I run my fingers through it and drop kisses on her temple. She sighs but then purrs, "If you want, we can go for round two..."
I think that as far as girlfriends go, I hit the damn jackpot. I whisper this in her ear.
It ain't I love you, but her eyes pop back open and she smiles real slow.
"You keep talking like that, Tommy Conlon, and I am never going to get any sleep."
"Guess you're gonna be tired tomorrow, sweetheart," I roll back on top of her.
It doesn't seem like she's complaining.
I sure ain't.
So I'm going to go a little bit further with this story than I originally anticipated. Thank you all for your reviews and support. Please continue to let me know what you think!
