Fight Like A Girl (Part One) (2 page)

She jumped off the bed. “Wait! I have
something for you to wear!”

I turned, waiting. She pulled a little black
dress out of her bag and held it up. For someone like me, a little
black dress was something to be worn at a funeral, not a night
club.

“No way,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “What else are you
going to wear?” She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

I stepped into the closet and grabbed my
favorite pair of jean shorts and a white t-shirt. I held them up
for her.

She made a face. “Gross. That’s so simple,
Max, so
plain
. Is that really how you want to present
yourself?”

I laughed. “Actually, that’s exactly how I
want to present myself.” I tossed my outfit on a chair in the
corner of my room and went to grab myself some underwear.

“At least wear some sexy panties,” she
pleaded.

I pulled a black thong from my drawer. “Is
this good enough for you?”

“Those things are so cliché. Don’t you have
anything that is more like lingerie?”

I sighed. “I’m not planning on getting laid,
Wynter. I really don’t think
lingerie
is necessary.” But I
went looking through the drawer for something.

“I have to shit,” Wynter announced, leaving
the room.

It wasn’t uncommon for us to be so honest
with each other. We learned a long time ago that it wasn’t worth it
to hide from the basics. I kept searching for a pair of panties and
finally came across a red pair of cheekini’s, which were a mix
between thong and bikini styles. They were lacy and somewhat
see-through, and I was pretty sure I had a bra to match them
somewhere. I wasn’t a girlie girl, but Wynter made me buy the
fucking things months ago. I hadn’t worn them one time.

Almost two full hours later, I’d been primped
and abused and finally looked enough like a girl that Wynter smiled
at me in the mirror as we examined ourselves. She couldn’t change
my mind about the black dress, but she did convince me to wear a
white tank top instead of a t-shirt. My makeup was heavier than
normal, but I kind of liked it. Dark eyeliner and thick black
mascara adorned my eyes. My blue eyes sort of popped, their
brightness shining and drawing attention to themselves.

I was impressed. It was her best work to
date. I didn’t look foolish or like a hooker, which was how I felt
I looked on previous excursions. I put my hands on my hips and
twirled, actually liking what I saw for the first time in a long
time. I slipped on a pair of flip flops and I thought Wynter was
going to lose her mind.

“No flip flops,” she said, her eyes on my
feet.

I glanced down at my toes. “I’m not wearing
heels,” I protested. “I’m already too tall.” At five-foot-ten, I
was taller than most of the men I met at the bar, which made
dancing uncomfortable, since they were eye-level with my boobs.

“Just a short heel,” she suggested, going
into my closet. I sat on the bed, knowing she wasn’t going to pick
a short pair. When I heard her laugh, I knew I was in trouble. She
reappeared, holding a pair of red heels that had to be laced up to
the knee. The heel was at least four inches. “Why do you even have
these?”

I glanced at the shoes and then back to her.
“I don’t even know.” It was a lie, but I wasn’t about to tell her
about those shoes and what I’d purchased them for.

Once upon a time, I had a fantasy about those
heels. I’d meet some incredibly tall, extraordinarily handsome man
and he’d whisk me off my feet. He would strip me down and then we’d
fuck, with me wearing only those heels. It was a dream, but when I
purchased them, I was horny as hell and it had been a while.

“Well, I think you should wear them,” she
suggested.

“Not a chance. I’ll fall.”

She rolled her eyes, holding her hand out.
Reluctantly, I put my foot in her hand. She tossed the flip flop
across the room and then slipped the shoe on. “I’ll lace them nice
and tight.”

“Not too tight. I still want to be able to
walk and be comfortable,” I said. I wasn’t in much of a fighting
mood, letting Wynter get her way, but I figured she deserved a
break. I usually fought her every step of the way for a night
out.

I knew she liked being able to play dress up
with me, even though I was a pain in her ass. She also knew I
usually gave in, eventually. Just like the shoes. I had a sexual
fantasy with them, but it never occurred to me to wear them in
public. Wynter didn’t know about the fantasy, of course, but she
knew me well enough. She knew I would rock those shoes.

I let her lace them up for me and then we
were off, ready for a girl’s night out.

The club was packed, and I thought for sure
we weren’t even going to get in, but the bouncer took one look at
us, me in my laced up hooker heels and Wynter in the little black
dress she tried to convince me to wear and he let us in without a
word. I could tell Wynter wasn’t surprised.

We circled the bar, trying to find an open
spot and decided to just order and go find another place to sit. I
wanted a beer, but Wynter convinced me to get something girlie. It
was pink and fruity, and I didn’t even want to know what was in it.
We went deeper into the club with our drinks, not quite ready to
get on the dance floor.

We found an empty couch in the far corner and
we grabbed it, sitting together. We could see almost the entire
club from our spot and I liked the position. I sipped the drink and
Wynter started in on me.

“When are you going to find a man?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t
need
a man,
Wyn. I have sex every so often but I don’t need or want a
relationship.” It was the truth, but she’d heard enough times, she
should have it memorized.

“I’m not saying you
need
a man, but
relationships are healthy to have. Its how we grow as people,” she
insisted.

I took a long pull from my drink, not wanting
to answer her right away. I swallowed the pink liquid, letting it
settle in my stomach before I replied. “I know that’s what you
think, but it’s just not me. I’ve never relied on a man, you know
that. And I don’t have any intentions of doing so now. I just want
to have fun tonight. Can we save the heavy talk for another day?”
It was a plea, but I also didn’t want to go into details about
exactly why I didn’t trust myself in a relationship. Not again,
anyway.

I scoured the scene in front of us, desperate
to change the subject. “Ooh,” I said, pointing toward a table near
the bar. “Look at them!”

There were two guys near the bar, both of
them hot and definitely in shape. There were at a tall table,
sitting alone, and for a second, I thought they might be gay. But
they definitely weren’t. I watched as the eyes of the blonde one,
whose face I could fully see as he followed the shake of a woman’s
ass as she walked by. Then he grinned at his dark-haired friend,
obviously liking what he’d seen. I smiled in reaction. Men were
pigs, but those were fine specimen.

“Eh,” Wynter commented, her tongue searching
for and finding her straw. She drank, her eyes meeting mine above
her drink.

“You’re kidding, right? Those two are hot,” I
told her.

She gave me a shrug. “Sorry, I’m just not
into them.”

“Well I am,” I said. There had to be more
alcohol in the drink than I thought because I was feeling
adventurous and that wasn’t normal.

I downed the rest of my drink, hoping it gave
me that last ounce of courage I needed and then stood, making my
way over to their table. I left Wynter behind, but I knew she could
take care of herself. Just like she knew I could handle myself.

I approached their table slowly, giving them
plenty of time to see me before I reached them. The blonde raised
his brows at me and then nodded toward me, which led the
dark-haired guy to turn, his eyes clashing with mine. I almost
stopped short when he looked at me. His stare was intense, the
clear gray of his eyes boring into mine without reserve. I felt
vulnerable, as if he could see into the depths of my very soul.

I managed not to stop, but only just barely.
I forced my feet to continue toward them, willing my heart to slow
down. Unlike most men, Mr. Gray Eyes didn’t turn away or even
blink. He kept his penetrating gaze on me.

“Hi, boys,” I greeted them, a smile on my
lips. It felt forced, but it was far too late to back down.

“Hi there,” Blondie said. “I’m Caleb.”

I reached my hand out to shake his. “Hi
Caleb, I’m Max.” I turned to Gray Eyes. “And you are?”

“Not interested,” he mumbled and then left
the table. I almost laughed out loud as I slid into the now empty
seat.

“Your friend has a way with women,” I said to
Caleb.

He shook his head with a smirk. “I didn’t
think he’d be able to resist you, and then he just walks away like
you’re the plainest woman in here. I’m so sorry for his behavior.
Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.” He signaled a waitress
and ordered me another fruity mixture.

I nodded. “So tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell. I’m just your
everyday regular Joe,” he explained.

He was cute, all blonde hair and blue eyes,
but he just didn’t do it for me. He was actually someone I figured
Wynter would be interested in. Maybe I could play wingman for
her.

“You know, my friend thinks you’re cute,” I
said to him.

He laughed. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one
who thought this was a bit awkward. I’m not really into
blondes.”

“Me either,” I said as the waitress brought
my drink. “I’ll tell you what… You can take this to my friend over
there at the table in the back and I’ll just slip out quietly. You
can even tell her I went home so she knows I’m safe.”

He glanced over to where Wynter sat alone.
“Sounds like a plan. It was very nice to meet you, Max,” he gave me
one last smile and then made his way toward Wynter.

I watched him go, thoroughly confused. His
friend was obviously interested but turned me down. I knew I could
be intimidating, but that guy was built like a brick shithouse.
There was no way in hell I intimidated him. I guessed it didn’t
matter. I got up, dropped a few ones on the table and then headed
toward the door. I was over it. I just wanted to get home and get
comfortable.

When I reached the street, there weren’t any
cabs to be found, so I decided to wait for a few minutes. The club
was popular enough that I knew a cab would be around soon
enough.

“Aren’t you cold?” a voice sounded from
behind me.

I turned to find Gray Eyes standing there,
arms crossed over his massive chest like I was invading his
space.

“No, actually. I’m perfect,” I said, throwing
him a sassy smirk.

“Hell, yeah, you are,” he murmured, almost
too low for me to hear. But I did.

“What was that?”

“I said you’re fucking hot,” he drawled out.
He stepped forward, his arm brushing mine. I shivered at the
touch.

“You aren’t exactly ugly,” I returned, not
wanting to blow up his ego.

He chuckled. “I guess lust at first sight is
possible.”

“I guess so. What are you gunna do about it?”
It was a challenge, but I needed to get laid, and he was as good
partner as any, provided he knew what he was doing.

He just grinned and managed to hail a cab. He
opened the door for me and I slid in and over to give him plenty of
room. He took all of it. Wide shoulders filled the back seat and I
felt like he was touching me everywhere. I realized belatedly that
he was. His hands were on my face as he pulled me toward him for a
kiss.

He didn’t waste any time; his tongue thrust
into my mouth and he took control. I was lost. His scent filled my
nostrils; he used one of those colognes that boasted about women
being all over the men who wore it. The company was right. I wanted
to get even closer to him; my hands tugged on the collar of his
shirt, bringing our bodies even closer together.

He pulled away long enough to rattle off an
address to the cab driver and then turned his attention back to me.
No words were spoken, but then, I didn’t need them. We weren’t in
love, we weren’t looking for something more; we both knew tonight
was a one night stand. And if the movement of his tongue was any
indication, I wasn’t going to be disappointed.

Minutes later, with his hands entangled in my
hair and my lips glued to his, the cab stopped. He paid the cabbie
and took my hand, helping me out. We were in a nice neighborhood,
standing in front of a tall brick building. I recognized it as a
high-end condo complex. I raised my brow at him.

“It’s my friends place,” he said with a
grin.

I tilted my head, thoroughly unimpressed.
“And is he home?”

“No. I’m house-sitting for a few weeks,” he
said, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Oh. Good.” I wasn’t into threesomes.

He tugged me along, through the glass doors.
The lobby was gigantic and a security guard stood near the
elevator.

“Good evening, Mr. Lawrence,” he greeted my
soon-to-be lover.

It occurred to me that I didn’t even know the
guy’s name.
Get it together, Max!
We stepped into the
elevator, and when the doors closed, I turned to him.

“Do you have a first name, Mr. Lawrence?”

He winked at me. “I think I like you calling
me Mr. Lawrence.”

“No, seriously.”

“Kingston.”

I lifted a brow. “I said seriously.”

“I am serious,” he said, pulling his wallet
out. He showed me his ID.
Kingston Lawrence
.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I had
no idea where I’d heard it before. Boston was a big city, though,
so it wasn’t entirely unlikely that we’d run into one another
before. Especially since my circle in the MMA world was very
close-knit.