"Hey, did you get that guy's name?" I ask Max in a murmur, jerking my chin in the guy’s direction. "I don't think I've heard him say a single word in the two weeks he's been training here."
Max frowns thoughtfully. "I think Jax said his name was Kane. He's the one who signed him up."
"What's his deal? Do we know?"
Max shrugs and starts to stretch again. "Only information he volunteered was that he's new to the area and needs a place to train. I don't know what kind of gym he was at before, though, because dude goeswaytoo hard. Like, I heard Tristan has to keep an eye on him when he teaches and partner him strategically because he's the kind of guy that hurts his partners."
"Yikes," I say with a wince. There are plenty of those fighters in the world—the guys that hear the word fighting and translate it to brawling—but it's been a while since we've had one at our gym. We pride ourselves on taking in and producing athletes—people who love this sport and want to get better while still keeping their training partners safe. MMA is no longer just human cockfighting in a cage. There's still a time and a place to go hard in training, but a regular drilling class isn't it.
"Hopefully he figures his shit out soon," I say. "Tristan and Jax only put up with that shit to a certain extent.”
“Amen,” Max agrees.
“Aiden. Max. Quit gossiping and get started on the bag,” Tristan barks from the other side of the room.
“I will never understand where that man keeps his extra eyes and ears,” I mutter as I begrudgingly pull my boxing gloves on.
Three hours and a torture session later—otherwise known as a Tristan workout when Remy has peed in his cereal that morning—Max and I have showered and are pulling up to the paintball place.
"So are we actually playing today or we're just here to do unpaid work?”
I slam the car door behind me and slide my shades on, feeling Max come up next to me. "No idea, I just know there's going to be an open bar and a Dani."
Max sighs. "So I'll take that to mean unpaid work. Got it." He looks up at the massive facility in front of us. "So she's a photographer… who also bartends kid's birthday parties? What am I missing here?"
I let out a snort at the thought of Dani working a kids’ party, surrounded by screaming, sugared-up eight year olds. "Being a photojournalist is kind of hit or miss at her stage, since she's so new. So she supplements by being a travel bartender. She gets hired to bartend random shifts, sometimes as a fill-in at bars and sometimes at parties like this. There's some private corporate thing going on today."
"Ah, okay. So we're basically walking into a corporate team building event. Wonderful."
I don’t miss the sarcasm in Max’s voice, so I try to reassure him. "They're almost done. We're here to play with the employees, not the customers. Unless youwantto shoot some corporate guys?"
He holds his hands up in surrender. "I don't care what I have to aim at. I just want to paint some people."
It only takes us a few minutes to find the area where the private party is being held, and a grin stretches across my face when I spot Dani behind the bar.
She's her usual gorgeous self, her black hair falling in waves over the black tank top she's wearing with the paintball shop's logo. She's focused on one of the patrons, sliding a beer over to him and laughing at something the guy says. But it isn’t until she spots me that her face truly lights up.
"Hey, boys, glad you could make it. Want a drink before you help me close up here?"
Max nudges me as we take a seat at the bar, giving me a look that saystold you so.I only heave a defeated sigh in response.
Dani watches the exchange and winks at us before whispering, "I just needed my manager to hear me say that. I need you guys to lift two boxes and then the employees get the turf all to themselves." She slides a Heineken over to me and then looks expectantly at Max for his drink order.
"Same is good for me," he responds. "Thanks. And thanks for inviting me."
"Anytime," she purrs, taking in his post-gym attire of grey joggers and a muscle tank with an obvious once-over.
Which makes me chuckle and makes Max's eyes widen.
After Dani walks away, I lean over to my best friend and murmur, "See? Casual. She wouldn't be hitting on you in front of me if we weren't just having sex."
"You two are fucking weird," he mutters, taking a big swig of his beer.
We hang out for the next twenty minutes, chatting between the two of us, but mostly watching Dani give out last call drinks and laughing with the other patrons. If Max notices I'm quiet, he doesn't comment on it, but the fact of the matter is his words from earlier today are still ringing in my head.
On average, he’s not wrong. One person typically does get more emotionally involved than the other during a friends-with-benefits relationship. Personally, I’ve noticed it almost always starts to happen after the third or fourth date. By that point, two people have spent enough time together that they have a decent understanding of the person, and find themselves drifting either toward or away from them. I know I only ever last that amount of time with girls I’ve gotten involved with.
I like Dani. A lot. She’s probably the most fun girl I’ve ever met, and the sex with her is out of this world. And since we just passed the three “date” mark, we’re at that pivotal point.