Page 85 of Shamed
Afterthat night, my world was fucking rocked to the core for multiple reasons.
Now that same girl, who turned into a fucking beautiful woman, is staying with me.
Muscles straining, I push the dumbbells all the way up with a grunt, then hold for a second before slowly lowering them again. I repeat the process, sweat beading along my brow as I push myself with these heavier than normal weights, over and over.
I fucking need this bit of release.
At the end of the set, I drop the dumbbells to my sides, breathing like I was being suffocated.
I know it’s not smart to push excessively hard, but being in the presence of Jayne for the past two days has pushed me to this point.
She hasn’t even done anything except exist in my space.
Things started changing between us when I told her about my mother. I didn’t even mean to say it, but once that information was spilled, she finally stopped resisting my help, or at least, resisting as much as she was.
For the last two days, she’s actually been agreeable and talks with me, asking questions, and letting me see parts of the woman beneath the multiple guarded layers.
But I knew it was a mistake to have her stay with me when I accidentally ran into her walking back to her bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel, with drops of water sliding down her body.
She bolted to her bedroom, arms pinned to her sides, while I hid myself in my bedroom and ended up hard as a rock for at least an hour afterward while I imagined the body beneath the towel.
Then there were the threads of warmth that had curled around my ribs when I watched her play with the kitten in my living room. I saw her entire being light up with a smile on her face, and even heard her laugh genuinely for the first time.
I’ve also gotten used to being around her. And for someone who has actively made himself live a solitary life, enjoying someone’s company like that poses a problem.
It was easier when she was ignoring my presence and being extra prickly with me, because then I was able to keep it strictly as me just trying to atone and make life a little better for her.
A woman standing closer than needed smiles at me through the mirrored wall as she lifts dumbbells that are far too light for her. I give her a tight-lipped smile, then pick up my weights, getting ready for another set.
Who am I kidding? I knew it was a mistake before I opened my mouth and offered her a place to stay, but I did it, anyway.
At least she’ll be leaving tomorrow, and we’ll have that space between us again.
It really was all about helping Jayne at first. And considering her mood seems to have improved with her being at my apartment, I’m achieving that original goal.
Leaning back on the inclined bench, I thrust the dumbbells up, muscles tightening and burning with each push.
I haven’t asked her about the cuts on her arms or why she thinks she’s worthless. I know it’s best not to pressure anyone in these situations, and just be there for them.
It’s not like I have a right to force her to talk about it, anyway. I have my own demons that I keep hidden, and I’d rather they stay that way as well.
When, and if, she’s willing to talk, I’ll be here.
I can’t say the cuts don’t worry the fuck out of me, though. That, along with her choice of work, given her history.
I have no problem picking her up at two a.m., but I hate that it’s from that shithole.
The woman to my right shifts a little closer. “Hey,” she says, lifting one dumbbell, then the other.
Here we go.
I lift my chin in acknowledgment, taking some deep breaths when I finish the set.
The woman starts to speak again, but my attention is grabbed by the sight of Jayne, who is slowly wandering through the machines in the mirror, causing an uptick in my pulse.
Never thought I’d see the day she’d turn up here without me forcing her.
She’s dressed in workout clothes for a change, the long-sleeved top ending a little above her bellybutton, leaving a band of creamy skin exposed.
