Page 38 of Stage Dive: Short Stories & Novellas
The first problem with Sam was that every time I got even close to pondering the possibility of there perhaps being an “us,” he did something to freak me out.The second was how he refused to play by the rules.My rules.
“We agreed I’d be in charge.But I don’t feel like I’m in charge,” I panted, hitting the boxing bag thingy with my carefully wrapped hands.Liz and Ben had taken Gib out to see the latest kid’s movie.Even Adam had taken himself out for the night.We had the house to ourselves and Sam had decided we should spend our time in the gym.“If I chip a nail, I will not be happy.”
Standing behind the bag, Sam held it steady.“Your nails will be fine.Wouldn’t make much sense you being in charge during your self-defense classes though, would it?”
“’spose not.”
“Don’t pout.You can be in charge after.”
“I’m not pouting.”I half-heartedly flung my fists in a one-two type motion at the bag.“Will this be the same as when I was supposedly in charge, yet you dragged me out of my room to come do this?”
“I didn’t drag you out of your room.After all, it’s not like you were in there hiding from me, is it?”
“No,” I lied.“My arms are tired.My shoulders hurt too.”
“You’ve done very well.”He smiled, turning me around so he could massage my back.Something he was exceptionally good at.“What are the three attack points again?”
“Eyes, throat, and groin.”
“And what do you do with the handbag?”
“Let the mugger take it without a fight.”
“Good girl.”
With my back to him, he couldn’t see my scowl.“It wasn’t that I valued the handbag more than my life, you know.It’s just that it was mine.You have to fight to protect what’s yours in this world, or people will walk all over you.”
“Fair point.”Followed with silence.
“But?”
More silence.Then, “You ever read anything by Miyamoto Musashi?”
“Should I have?”
“Seventeenth century warrior poet.Samurai.”
“Oh,thatMiyamoto Musashi.Sure, of course.I have his collected works upstairs in my suitcase.”
He ignored my sarcasm, and continued on with the massage.And, apparently, the history lesson.“There’s some debate about whether Musashi was the greatest swordsman of all time.But what nobody questions was his judgment.He studied his rivals for years, only challenging them when he was good and ready, and never letting his ambition cloud his choice.Because one wrong decision of opponent or timing and he would die.”
“There’s a lesson here, I just know it.”
“If one of the greatest warriors of all time needed to learn to pick his fights, then maybe you can too.”
I sighed.“Okay.Message received.”His thumbs dug into something particularly needy in my neck and I groaned in bliss.“Why couldn’t you have done this last night in the pool house?”
“Because you were drunk and needed to sleep it off.”
“That’s what irritates me the most about Adam opening his big mouth and telling them.It’s not even like anything happened afterwards,” I said.“There’s a reason why they call it a booty call instead of a spooning call, Sam.”
He chuckled, talented fingers moving down one of my arms, working the sore muscles.Of course, this necessitated him fitting his front to my back.Goosebumps raced up and down my spine at his nearness.If only his body against mine didn’t feel so good.Made holding out against him nearly impossible.
“Where’s all this tension coming from?”he asked, rubbing at my wrist before moving onto the palm of my hand, undoing the tape as he went.“Have a rough day, my love?”
“You’re going to insist on calling me that no matter how many times I ask you not to, aren’t you?”
“Sorry.It just slips out.Does it really bother you?”
