Fighting Fate (Fighting #7) - JB Salsbury Page 0,33

through some pull-ups, considering Ryder’s words. I hadn’t really thought through this date with Brynn and all it implies. I thought we’d go out and have a good time, but at the end of the night, we’d go our separate ways, and if anything, I’d gain a friend out of the whole thing.

But this… Shit. I’m not prepared for all this.

I suppose I could take Ryder’s lead and have the talk with her tonight when I call her. Let her know that I’m not looking for a relationship right now. But doesn’t that imply that she is? She could laugh in my face at my presumptuous attitude.

“So I say we find somewhere fairly inexpensive, but fun. Make it less about fine china and fucking champagne and more about having a good time.”

I drop slowly from the pull-up bar, savoring the burn in my lats and biceps. “So we hit dinner and then what?”

He flashes a wicked grin. “Party, what else?”

“Fine by me.” As long as I stay busy enough to keep my mind off Axelle spending her first Valentine’s Day in four years with Cliff the fuckface, I’m all in.

~~~

After the gym, I come straight home to call Brynn. As I stare down at her name on my phone, my finger hovers over the send button.

I remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong. Axelle made plans with Clifford before I did with Brynn, but I can’t help but feel like I’m going behind Ax’s back.

I groan and drop my head into my hand. “Stop being a pussy-whipped little bitch.”

Before I can change my mind, I hit “send” and press the phone to my ear, half hoping I get her voicemail.

“Hello?”

No such luck.

“Hey, Brynn?”

“Yeah, hey, Killian, I was hoping you’d call.”

“Promised I would.”

“I’m glad you did. Ever since we bumped into each other earlier today, I’ve been thinking about you.”

I rub my forehead as panic wreaks havoc on my central nervous system. “Oh…yeah?”

She giggles, but it’s throatier, heavy with…something. “It’s embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but yeah… It’s just… I’ve wanted to get to know you since last year, but I was just too nervous to talk to you.”

For a second, I’m shocked by her confession, but then I remember that although I still feel like the biggest dork in school, I no longer look like one. If she only knew that inside this big body hides a scrawny, terrified nerd.

“We’re getting to know each other now.” God, did that sound flirty? I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.

“And I’m really happy about that. What’re you doing?”

“Oh, what? Like right now?”

“Yeah.” There’s a smile in her voice.

“Just got home from training, gearing up to study for a bio test I have tomorrow. You?”

“I just got out of the shower.”

I blink and stare at the wall of books in front of me. “Oh.” I suck at this. And it feels wrong, so, so wrong, yet the stirring in my blood can’t be ignored.

“I need to get dressed. Can you hang on for a sec?”

And now I’m picturing her naked. “Sure?”

“I mean, unless you can think of a reason why I should stay naked?”

Holy shit. Is she…? Is this…? “Uhh…”

“I’m on my bed. Are you?”

I bite my lip and close my eyes.

“I wish you were here—oh my God, Ashley!” There’s a rustling of some kind and then mumbling. “…knock first!”

This is awkward as hell.

“Killian, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Listen. I just wanted to tell you that we’re going to Kahunaville tomorrow night and then to a party.”

“Oh, okay.”

Why does she sound disappointed?

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Just text me your address.”

“Of course, sounds good.”

“So I, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up and I stare at my phone for a few seconds. Are women usually this aggressive? And if that’s how she is the first time we talk on the phone, what’s she going to be like when we’re together on a date?

On Valentine’s Day.

Shit, maybe we should’ve had the talk Ryder suggested.

I don’t think she realizes she’s about to go out with a twenty-one-year-old virgin who is helplessly in love with someone else.

Eleven

Axelle

I couldn’t look more anti-Valentine’s Day if I tried.

Staring at my reflection, I almost laugh at the glam-goth thing I’ve got going on. If Cupid had an enemy, it would be me.

I slide on my chunkiest black biker-esque heels, complete with buckles and a thick sole, just in case I need to stomp on the pudgy diaper-wearing fairy who’s aiming his

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