9
Kit
What Was I Thinking?
It’s Monday again. Two days since we signed up to Bobby’s gym, which makes tonight my first scheduled class, and I’m not even being discreet about my freak out.
What the hell was I thinking? Temporary insanity? Sexually frustrated stupidity?
Logically, it’s probably the comfort I feel when around Bobby. His smile soothes me. His lame jokes, a balm on burned skin. He never judges me. He doesn’t balk at my newfound responsibilities with Jack. He takes everything I say in stride, and when shit gets too awkward, he lays out another lame joke at his own expense just to make me smile.
Jack has been bopping around the house for days. He loved his first class, and he’s psyched for a million more. He thinks he’s hot shit because now he knowstheBobby Kincaid, meanwhile, I’m over here feeling green while I pull out every pair of gym clothes I own.
With barely more than an hour until class, I try on and discard item after item. Pants are too long, too short, too tight, too sloppy. He asked for teeny tiny booty shorts… He’s insane if he thinks I’m walking into that place showing off my ass.
And then there’s the fact I haven’t eaten in hours, which leaves me in a pickle; I don’t want to pass out from starvation at the gym, nor do I want to eat now and toss it all over his feet while working out.
With a frustrated grunt, I decide on a pair of purple shorts and a black tank top. It’s tight, but not indecent. Pulling my suffocating hair into a high ponytail, I stand in front of my full-length mirror and declare myself good enough.
‘Good enough’is probably not what Bobby is used to, but it’s all I have to offer. I’m not going to change who I am just to impress the guy.
Exhaling a noisy breath, I turn away and leave my room. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself, then louder, I thump on Jack’s bedroom door. “Let’s go, we’re leaving now.”
I stomp downstairs, and Jack comes skipping out of the kitchen with two bottles of water and a megawatt smile. “I was ready ages ago. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Yeah, thanks, alright.” We walk outside and climb into my car, and when I think he’s not paying attention, I make a wrong turn and make us take the scenic route.
“Kit!” he laughs. “You missed the turn. Quit stalling.”
“Shut up, I didn’t miss it, I just wanted to check something out, up here, at the…” I trail off with the hope of sounding convincing. I don’t, because he continues to laugh.
“Kit! Stop fucking around. Unlike you, I actually want to go.”
I fling my fist across the gap between us and smack his chest. “Can you stop swearing? Jesus. You make me look like a shit authority figure.”
“You just swore then! When you got on me for swearing, you said shit.”
I sigh.Shit. “Okay, sorry. I’ll try to stop, but I’m not kidding, you have to stop. You’re fifteen and not allowed.”
He rolls his eyes, but it quickly transforms to excitement when we roll into the gym parking lot. As soon as I park the car, he’s out and rushing toward the front entrance with his bag over his shoulder and a wide smile on his face. That’s okay, he can go in. Maybe I can have a nap and wait for him to finish.
“Don’t even think about it! Get inside now!”
I groan.
Resigned to my fate, I grab my water and follow him in, and as we cross the threshold, my eyes adjust to the glare of fluorescent lights above. Fluorescence – super flattering when a girl is working out.
Kill. Me. Now.
We step past an empty reception and follow the sounds of heavy fists slamming down on wet flesh. We move into the main gym room to find two large men sparring, but it only takes a moment and one hot flush to recognize Bobby as one of the fighters. Jimmy is his opponent, and when Bobby grunts and slams his fist over his little brother’s jaw, I find myself rooted to the spot and staring as two virile, sexy, strong men beat each other up.
Jack stops beside me to watch, though I don’t think he sees what I see. “They’re so cool, right?”
I nod, but before I can answer verbally, Bobby drops his arms, and Jimmy strikes out with a solid right hook that slams into his jaw. Bobby heavily drops to the canvas, and without thinking, I rush forward. “Oh my God, Bobby, are you okay?”
He’s not unconscious. In fact, he’s already attempting to stand, but Jimmy stands over him and wheezes with laughter. “You got distracted, man! Suddenly the pretty girl’s in the house, and you drop your guard. Suck it. I told you she’d come.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He quickly stands and offers his gloved fist. “Let’s go again. I owe you a trip to the canvas.”