Fight or Fall (13 page)

“You like her, don’t you?” Dia’s words broke through the cloud of inexplicable jealousy and possessiveness that I was feeling towards Ava.

“What?” I flexed my head to the right, rubbing my neck with my hand, trying to tamp down my riot of emotions. We were sitting on the sidelines, a plastic chair between us, waiting for our turns.

Her green eyes flickered. “I know you, Milo.” She slanted her eyes towards Ava and Emmett who were huddled too closely, looking at the scoreboard. “You like her.”

I remained quiet. Talking to my ex-girlfriend about another girl will never be on my Top 100 Things To Do before I’m six feet below the ground.

“She likes you too.” Her green eyes were morose, desolation staining her face.

“Why are you saying this to me?” I thought she wanted me back. She sure sounded like it. It wouldn’t ever happen, but if she was telling me this then she was up to something. I’d been a willing member of her tricks for years, and I’m actually now thanking my lucky stars for finding out how unfaithful she could be.

“Because I’m sorry and because you deserve better.”

She fixed her blouse and waved at Emmett and Ava, signaling that it was now her turn.

I took a deep breath and tracked Ava with my eyes. She was now jumping up and down because she and Emmett were on top of the scoreboard. She wiggled her hips a bit, danced a little jig, and rocked her head from side to side. From the short distance, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled in excitement, and her pearly white teeth showed – my heart might have wobbled a beat when she turned, winked, and shyly smiled at me.

Yeah, I’m starting to see another side of her I’ve never paid attention to before.

“A turkey is three strikes in a row,” Emmett explained, his elbows hitting the table after acting like he was still releasing a bowling ball; Ava and Dia were either his captive audience or pretending to be engrossed in what he was saying.

I will strike you three times in a row with my fists and maybe that will stop you from being a cackling turkey.

You’d think he was the grandson of Earl Anthony by the way he talked about bowling. He couldn’t stop yapping about the strikes, spares, and splits that he had done which largely attributed to his and Ava’s win.

Shortly after three games, the ladies started complaining that they were hungry. I thought they were probably making excuses because they were bored as hell with Emmett. He was really the son of a senator. He could outtalk anyone and lull them to sleep. I could already envision him in Congress being impeached for his unnecessary chatter. But then again, politics was all about endless yammering so he’d fit right in.

I suggested dinner at Antolini’s Pizza – one of the best pizza places in Vegas.

“Wow,” Dia stated with as much enthusiasm as a sleepy drunk. She twirled the straw in her glass of iced tea before checking out her fingernails.

“Excuse me,” Ava said, pulling her cellphone from her purse. “I have to take this call.” She must have had in on vibrate since no one heard it ring. She stood up, her right hand on her phone, and walked away.

“That was urgent,” Emmett observed, his eyes following Ava’s figure as she walked to the small, tucked in corner before the bar area.

“Yeah, it must’ve,” I agreed. She didn’t even wait for any of us to say anything, she just left. Maybe she has an emergency?

The male server dressed in yellow and white stripes and matching pants approached our table. He looked like a referee. All of the servers were dressed like him. They also had matching whistles to complete their outfits. It was cool and weird at the same time.

“Are you all sharing a pizza tonight?” he asked, standing close to the chair that Ava had just vacated. We were in the center table of this packed restaurant. The delicious smells of their one-of-a-kind pizzas were making my stomach rumble. I only had a protein drink before driving to Strike Zone.

“I have no problem with sharing,” Emmett answered beside me. He and I were sitting together. I was facing Ava and Dia sat facing Emmett. “Up to you guys.”

“I’m cool with that,” Dia nonchalantly declared. She was now holding her phone in her hand, scrolling through the screen. She seldom ate, so I was sure she’d have no problem with sharing. Even in college she hardly ate anything. She often talked about her being overweight as a child, so she exercised obsessively and watched her diet like a hawk. When we were together I had reassured her that she was fine the way she was, but I couldn’t do anything to dissuade her logic.

“What would you like to order?” He had his pen and paper out, ready to take our order when Ava slowly sank into her chair. Ava looked up and smiled at the server, and I saw the guy seeing stars for a minute, his eyes blanking out.

Emmett cleared his throat, interrupting the server’s temporary awestruck moment.

When Ava smiled she could make a man lose his train of thought, making him uncaring as to whether he was coming, going, or walking through mud. She’s always had that quality. Even when I was irritated at her, due to reasons that I could now attribute to my repressed horniness, all she had to do was smile and I didn’t care if she threw a football made of concrete at me.

“Sorry.” The server shook his head in apology. “What would you like to order?”

“Supreme – if that’s okay with everyone?” Emmett questioned, his eyes on his phone too. I guessed everyone had their phones out now. What a great way to end the evening.

Dia nodded.

“Cool,” I said, staring at Ava’s creamy white neck, slowly letting my gaze drift down to her cleavage. Fuck, I need to stop this shit or I’d be huffing like a fucking puppy before we got the pizza.

Ava’s phone vibrated in her hand that she had rested on the wooden table, and addressed the server, “Supreme’s fine. Can you please take out the olives?” Thumbing through the keys, she started texting rapidly, the server saying, “Yes, no problem.”

I hated olives.

“Milo doesn’t like olives.”

Dia’s head swiveled in Ava’s direction. “How do you know Milo doesn’t like olives?”

Ava was still on her phone, answering texts, looking like she was attending to an important matter or else she’d have put her phone away. Without looking at Dia, she replied, “He’s always hated olives. He removes them from pizzas, salads, and pasta.”

Finally putting her phone down, she raised her face up, wondering what the sudden silence in our table was for.

“Even I don’t know Milo hates olives,” Dia muttered, her eyes flicking back and forth between Ava and I. “And I’m his ex-girlfriend.”

“Okay, okay, Milo hates olives. Can we move on?” Emmett commented, brushing the subject off, tapping his fingers on the table. “I think that’s it for our order.”

The server nodded his head, and before he turned away Emmett added, “No olives.”

A bubble of laughter started with Dia, followed by the rest of us. I joined them and even managed to indulge Emmett in a high five, but inside I was fucking rejoicing.

Ava knew I hated olives.

It was a simple, plain ole’ fact about me.

Two nights ago she said I was her dream.

Tonight she knew I hated olives.

All my life she’s been there, standing by my sister.

Good times, hard times, extra difficult times.

It never occurred to me, not even once, that she was there for me too.

It was confusing – the way I’m feeling towards her. It’s like she knew me, knows a lot about me. And I had no clue.

“Thank you for dropping me off,” she said, opening the passenger door and stepping out before I could go to her side and open it for her.

All throughout the twenty minute drive she was quiet. From time to time she made comments about the songs on the radio, “Great song,” “Like her music,” and “I listen to that once in a while.”

Emmett had to leave right away and couldn’t drop her off because her condo was out of his way. He felt really bad and offered to call a cab for her. Dia raised her eyebrows when I’d offered to drive Ava, but her opinion didn’t count. She could lose all of her eyebrows and I wouldn’t care. Her flight to San Jose left at nine and she still had somewhere to go before calling it a night. I had a strong feeling that she wouldn’t be pursuing anything between us any longer.

I didn’t hesitate to bring Ava to her condo, but Ava had looked like she didn’t want to be anywhere near me. She had been on her phone more than halfway through dinner and she had been quiet ever since. Dinner at the pizzeria was great. Emmett was an okay dude. Once he stopped being a pro-bowler, he actually made me crack up with his stilted views about the economy, traffic laws, and his comment that redheads looked like a lot of trouble which made Dia’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline, but he took Dia’s insults about blondes in stride. I’d never like the dude, but by the end of the evening I was less inclined to punch his face in and instead just rattle his snotty demeanor once in a while. As long as he kept his hands off of Ava I could actually hang out with him. Maybe once every leap year.

I jumped out of my car, catching her before she entered the building.

“Ava, what’s going on?” I asked. I thought we were cool. She’d been sending me weird vibes throughout the night.

“I have to go.” Her eyes left mine too quickly, her thumbs busily punching in the key code to enter the building.

“Thanks again.” She smiled, the corners of her mouth tight, her left hand holding on her small black purse and the paper bag where she had neatly packed her bowling shoes in.

What was wrong with her? She was putting up a front. She didn’t look back as she continued walking through the glass doors. Before the doors completely closed I stepped in, not caring if she had not invited me.

She walked fast to get inside the elevator. I barely made it before the elevator door completely closed. Her eyes widened in surprise as soon as she saw me inside the closed space.

“I’m not leaving, Ava. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” I spoke determinedly, letting my words sink into her thoughts. “Now press the button.”

She pressed seven and still didn’t say anything. I closed the space, the gap between us, pulling her into a hug, wrapping her arms around my waist.

If silence was what she needed I’d give it to her. But I’d be with her in silence.

I felt the vibration from her purse which was sandwiched between us. She took it out, Emmett’s name flashed on her screen, and she slowly extricated her right hand from my waist. I watched her text him “Home now” and put her phone back in her purse.

The elevator stopped at seven. She stepped out of my hug, but as soon as we got out I held onto her waist, walking side by side with her. She slowly relaxed her head against my chest, walking along the hallway, and stopped in front of number 715.

She punched in a set of codes and the door opened.

So this was her home. Her domain.

There were shoe boxes on the beige-colored couch. An Ipad and a laptop were haphazardly on top of each other on a coffee table. Three opened cookie boxes were scattered on the side tables facing the huge entertainment center.

We walked farther in and I saw the mini-bar area where two soda cans, and magazine clippings lined the huge oak dining table in the dining area and there was at least half a load of dishes on the sink by the kitchen.

“This is a beautiful place.” It was. The walls were painted light yellow, artistic lamps and paintings decorated the walls of the living room and the kitchen area. “But duchess, you are one messy girl.”

She tilted her head up, her gray eyes crinkling, a hint of a smile forming on her lips. “You’re just a neat freak.”

Compared to her, I was.

I felt her body relax against mine. She stepped ahead of me, took her shoes off, and threw them to the side. The sound was loud against the marble floors as she walked towards the couch.

I followed her lead and sat with her. I tapped my hands against my legs, grabbing a small couch pillow, motioning for her to lie against the pillow. I was clueless about what I was doing with her, but I wasn’t going to stand by and ignore her, ignore the changes happening between us. She was bringing me a sense of peace, a thread of calm amid all the raging guilt and anger that I’ve been fighting against for the past few months. I’d be a fool to let go of what she makes me feel, even if her asshole of a father would think otherwise.