Page 6 of Creatures of Chaos

He frowns, flipping the lock of honey-gold hair that’s fallen on his forehead away. My traitorous eyes track the movement of his hair as it flops back onto his brow rather than focus on my target, and my hand grazes off the worn leather. My momentum takes me forward and I lose my footing, tripping slightly, and Becks reaches out and stabilizes me.

His hands feel like brands on my biceps and cause a jolt of delicious awareness to shoot throughout my body. I quickly right myself and pull out of his grasp, hoping he thinks the reddening of my cheeks is from exertion alone.

“Sorry,” I say with a sigh as I step away from the bag. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s just been a week.”

I don’t look up as I busy myself with removing my hand wraps. When I’m done, I open and close my hands, my fingers stiff from clenching them into fists for so long.

“Did something else happen this week?” Becks asks, his voice taking on a dark note. I glance at him, instantly seeing the tension in his face and shoulders.

I shake my head. “Nothing’s happened,” I answer honestly. “It’s just . . .” I let the sentence drop.

How do I explain that things have changed? With Becks, I want to be so much more than what we are. I don’t want to be just his charity case, his loser friend who needs to be rescued on the regular. No, with Becks I want to be his everything.

Becks’ muscles relax and his eyes soften. “Anything I can do to help?”

I give him a small, hopefully convincing smile. “No. I’m fine.”

He follows me over to my duffle and waits while I change shoes and wipe the sweat from my face with a hand towel.

“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask, finally in a better headspace to talk. The workout seems to have done its job helping me burn off my excess rage and frustration. It didn’t hurt that I pictured Jules’ and her cronies’ faces on the bag as I punched away.

Becks gives me a look. “Where else would you be?”

“I’m not that predictable.”Am I?

A deep laugh rumbles in Becks’ chest, making goose bumps pop out on my arms. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. I’m that predictable.”

Becks chuckles. “Want a ride home?” he asks, knowing I walked here because I don’t have a car.

“Sure.”

Not having a car isn’t usually much of an issue for me. The two places I’m at the most, Nightlark and Peet’s Gym, are within walking distance to my home. And then when I’m out with Becksor Ensley, they just drive. But sometimes it’s nice to not have to hike back after a long workout.

Picking up my bag, we head toward the exit. Becks throws a casual arm over my shoulder as we walk, completely oblivious to how his nearness affects me. I bite my lower lip and force my body to stay loose.

“Locklyn,” someone calls, and I glance back at Peet, the owner of Peet’s Gym. “Gideon can’t make it tomorrow to teach his class. Any chance you can fill in for him?”

Tomorrow’s Friday, and as much as I wish I could say I had a life and couldn’t fill in for Gideon at a moment’s notice, that just isn’t true. My only friends are Becks and Ensley. Friday night, Becks attends dragon council meetings, and Ensley practices with her band. Tomorrow night is pathetically wide open.

“Yeah, I can be here. Level 2’s, right?” I ask and Peet nods. That won’t be so bad. Level 2’s are still young enough that they haven’t developed their magic. It doesn’t matter that I’m one of the most advanced fighters who comes to Peet’s gym and can lay out guys twice my size in a fair fight. Once the students learn that I don’t have magic, I lose their respect and trying to teach them is useless.

A relieved smile breaks out on Peet’s face. “Thanks, Locklyn. You’re a life saver.”

I manage to force a smile and wave before Becks and I shove through the doors into the late afternoon dying sunlight. The early spring air has a bite to it, but I don’t mind because it feels good against my overheated skin.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner before taking you home,” Becks says, leading me away from where his car is parked and down the sidewalk instead. “Food always cheers you up.”

He’s not wrong, but I’m a gross mess after my workout. My compression leggings and white tank are damp in embarrassing places, and my hair atop my head is a knotted mess. No self-respecting creature would be caught publicly looking like I am with the next dragon heir.

I open my mouth to give him some excuse, but at the thought of food my stomach growls loudly.

Becks looks down at my belly where my white tank is plastered against my skin and then back up at my face with an amused grin. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, and because I’m a pushover when it comes to Becks, I mumble, “Sure,” and follow his lead, like a good little puppy.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s how Becks sees me, as a cute little helpless puppy that follows him around and needs his protection. He might enjoy my company, but I know we aren’t on equal footing, and that chafes.

I know I’m selling myself short. I have redeeming qualities. I’m funny, a great listener, sharp-witted, and the most loyal friend you’ll ever find. But I’m on a roll feeling bad for and about myself today and don’t have the energy to pull myself out of my funk, so I think I’ll just chill here for a bit longer.

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