Page 35 of Power Twist

Sarah's footsteps pause. Her body shifts, preparing to attack. In an instant she's on T. Every punch she throws, he defends, but he doesn't take his own shots. It's clear to see he's holding back. He's nearly double her size; even if she's trained by our military’s best, she's no match for the Terminator.

“He won't hurt her,” Trey mumbles behind me.

“This happens a lot, I'm guessing?”

Trey huffs. “Their living room is a gym with sparring pads spread throughout. So yeah, this happens every time I'm over.” Resting my chin on my shoulder, I look back to find his eyes already on me. “I made them stop doing this shit at my place last year after they broke a fucking couch. Animals,” he adds at the end with a smile that only has love behind it.

“You guys are together a lot, then, the three of you?”

A pang of jealousy settles into my stomach before rising up my chest. I glance back to the two still going at it on the mat. What would it be like to have that kind of friendship, have a makeshift family like these three have? Suddenly the feeling of being the outsider slinks through my veins.

Nervously I nibble on my thumbnail. “I'm going to take a shower,” I mumble as I step toward the door.

“Hey,” Trey says, following. “What just happened?”

At the door, I look back to where T now has Sarah pinned beneath him with her arms stretched above her head. I shake my head and continue out the door toward my room.

“Talk to me, Mess.”

“I don't know. I'm just sad.”

“About the bill?”

I shake my head, the tip of my ponytail swiping from one shoulder to the other. “No, that,” I say, hooking a thumb backward toward the workout room. “You, those two, the friendship. I've never really had that, with anyone. I have Tae to talk to, but she's all I have.” I stop suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. Trey's arms shoot out, gripping the banister and wall to keep from running into me. My tennis shoes squeak against the polished hardwood floor as I swivel around to face him. “I'm jealous, I guess, more than sad. Or sad because I've never had a chance to build a friendship like what you have with T. I want that. I want someone I can count on, that I can joke around with, have inside jokes with.”

His head tilts, stray dark locks sliding across his forehead nearly swiping his eyebrows. “Isn't that what you have with me?”

“That doesn't count.” I sigh. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on his chest. “We're, well, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean we're not friends too. Do you have fun when we're together?”

I tilt my face up to meet his searching eyes. “You know I do.”

“Listen, just because we have a physical side to our relationship doesn't mean we don't have a friendship too. Look at Tank and Sarah. They're best friends and married. Ask either of them. I'm the third wheel in their friendship, and I'm okay with that. I'm happy for my friends that they have what they have. Hell, I'm jealous most days. To be married to your best friend, to laugh more than you fight and to have the one person you're committed to for life be the one person you can't wait to see every day. What a life, right?”

Well shit.

Trey Benson, one billion.

Randi Sawyer's heart, zero.

Before I do something stupid like seal my lips against his and wrap my legs around his waist, I sit on the stairs and lean back.

“That would be amazing.” My sweat-damp leggings slide against the wooden stair as I shift on my sore ass. “Never thought it was possible, really. Didn't have a great example growing up, you know.”

Palm against my hip, he slides me across the wide step, pressing me to the wall and making room for him to sit down. “Me either. My parents are miserable and barely say a handful of words to each other, and those are all in public to keep up appearances. It wasn't until I saw Tank and Sarah together that I realized it is possible.”

Silence fills the stairwell as we both sit deep in thought.

“Honestly, I never thought I'd find someone I'd enjoy being around who also put up with my version of crazy,” I admit. Elbows on the step at my back, I relax my neck, allowing my head to dangle between my shoulders. “Or be touchy with.”

“Touchy?” Humor and confusion mix in Trey's voice.

“Yeah, until you—and I'm getting more comfortable with T too—I've always had this… I don't know, a timer that starts the second anyone touches me. After ten seconds or so, it goes off and the person's touch just irks me.”

“I don't understand.”

“I don't either. I've been thinking a lot about it since meeting you though, wondering why you're so different. Even when you were a raging ass, I wasn't revolted by your touch.”

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