Page 24 of Until You're Mine
“Is that right?” He puffed himself up larger, showing off every not-fragile inch of his frame. “And what’s two?”
I dared a glance at his face and immediately knew it was a mistake by the way my heart contracted in my chest. “I don’t trust you to follow the hands-off rule.”
“Kind of hard to grapple if I can’t put my hands on my opponent.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And therein lies the problem. There are too many aspects of sparring that bring our bodies…” I waved a hand through the air, desperately hoping the dimming light of the sun made it harder to see the heat flaring in my cheeks. “You know.”
“You’re saying you have a hard time thinking straight when I have you pin—”
I quickly shifted forward and covered his mouth with my hand. “I think we better stop while we’re ahead.”
“Says the girl who’s currently breaking the hands-off rule,” he said, his voice slightly muffled.
“Just eat your food.”
He made a big show of taking a ridiculously large bite of his enchilada. In the time it took me to eat mine, he’d finished off two, as well as a stack of rolled tacos—all but the last one, which he insisted I eat.
After we were finished, he gathered our trash, and when he went to dump it, I took a couple snapshots of the palm tree-lined street leading to the ocean. The setting sun turned the clouds fiery orange and dark purple, colors I swore you only saw here, and the ocean reflected them back at the sky with an added ripple effect.
Back when I’d first picked up a paintbrush I’d started with landscapes, and still liked to paint them occasionally. Now my art was more abstract, faces and profiles painted on different-from-the-norm mediums. I’d received a lot of positive feedback, but time would tell if people who didn’t live and breathe the art world would like them, and if they’d like them enough to buy one.
That reminds me, the deadline for the Golden City Art Exhibition is today.With only those two spots up for grabs for artists like me, it was nice knowing no one else could submit, although hundreds probably already had.Judging probably won’t start until after the weekend, so it could still be another couple of weeks before I know if I got in.
A dangerous amount of longing flooded me, and I tried to convince myself it wasn’t a big deal if I didn’t land a spot. It was a long shot, and hoping too much would only set me up for a crash. What was important was that someone out there was looking at my work, and in a few months, my gallery internship would provide more opportunities for that to happen, whether or not I made it into the exhibition.
Thinking about painting had my fingers itching for a brush, so I decided to be cautiously optimistic about getting some time in the near future and snapped a few more inspiration shots so I’d have lots of options.
When I tilted my phone’s screen to get more of the sky in the frame, Shane’s dark profile filled half of it, and I hurriedly took a picture. It was a nice shot, after all.
I lowered the screen, and he extended his hand to me. “Let’s go get our feet wet.”
It’d been way too long since I’d felt the ocean instead of merely driving by it and admiring the view from afar, and the water here was usually warmer than the water up north. So, yes to touching the ocean, but since any type of physical connection with Shane made it harder to remain neutral and in control, I ignored his outstretched arm and stood.
He put his hand on the small of my back and moved his lips by my ear. “Stubborn.”
“Just because you can’t imagine a girl not tripping over herself for a chance to touch you doesn’t mean I’m stubborn. It’s called fidelity.” I knew what it was like to be cheated on, so I’d never put anyone through that self-esteem shattering experience. It was also why I knew better than to fall for pompous fighters and their smooth, charming lines in the first place. They talked a good game, but their actions didn’t always match. By the time the charm ran dry and the moods swung out of control, you were already in too deep, and then you ended up in a big messy situation that you didn’t know how to get your way out of. Unscathed wasn’t really an option at that point.
“And what are we called?” Shane asked, pulling me out of the past and dropping me back in the present.
“Friends,” I said, and when he gave me a skeptical look, I added, “Ish.”
“Oh. Now it’s crystal clear.” The pressure of his hand on my back increased as we made our way down the boardwalk and onto the sand. I bent and removed my flip-flops then dug my toes into the warm sand.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the salt-scented air. Memory after memory hit me, of sand castle Sundays with my mom and brothers, lazy beach days as a teenager spent tanning and catching waves, and hours spent with my feet in the sand and a paintbrush in my hand.
“You look happy,” Shane said. “Next time you get all huffy on me and start spouting off rules, I’m going to have to rush you down here.”
I scowled at him. “I’m about to show you huffy.”
He lifted his hands in fighting stance. “I’m happy to throw down in the sand. Oh, wait. We can’t spar anymore.” He stuck his lips out and gave me a sad puppy dog look.
I shook my head but couldn’t help the smile. As we walked to where the water lapped at our feet, the urge to know more about him swelled, and friends-ish people chatted about that kind of stuff, right? “I take it from your interaction with Josefina that you grew up here?”
I wondered which high school he’d gone to, and if our paths ever crossed and we didn’t even know it. Add in the MMA world and that increased the chances quite a bit.
“Nah. I spent most of my childhood in the shitty desert areas, where the heat is high and the money is in low supply. I didn’t get to San Diego until I was fifteen, and I was actually pissed at how pretty it was when I first arrived.” The words held a forced flatness, and I turned and looked at him, trying to read him better.
“Why?”
