Page 14 of Stick Fight

Fuck.

I shift, and suggest, “I could always go get a piñata. Fill it with candy. That way, you get to destroy something and get a sugar rush. It’s a win-win.” She taps her chin in thought. “How about this? Sleep on it, and come morning if you still want to do it, I’m in. I just think decisions like this should be made in the light of day, when things aren’t so emotional.”

“Yeah, okay.” She gives a light, humorless chuckle, the sound warm despite the lingering sadness in the room, then she flops into the chair across from me.

And damn. The way my oversized shirt brushes against her bare thighs nearly wrecks my focus.

Think of something else, dude. Anything else.

“So your parents…how did that call go?” I ask, shifting gears fast.

Her expression falls. “Ugh.” She rests her elbow on the small table, fist against her chin, half-covering her mouth as she turns toward the window. I don’t rush her. I give her the space to sit with her thoughts, even as fresh tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“They… they wanted me to come to their room,” she says finally, voice barely above a whisper. Then, turning toward me, she adds, “I told them I was with you.” She swallows and her words settle deep in my chest.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” I murmur.

She sighs. “I do tomorrow. They want me to go back to California with them.”

Clearly she doesn’t want that, and while I don’t know her full situation, don’t know where she’s been living, I have a pretty solid guess.

I lift my glass. “What do you want, Gabby?”

For a moment, something inside her ignites. Her eyes lock with mine, burning with a new kind of resolve. Her mouth opens and for a brief second, something arcs between us. Something volatile and electric, something that stirs a need inside of me. But then her shoulders sag, that resolve deflating as quickly as it had appeared. Her gaze falters and she goes silent.

“Sorry, no questions.”

She lifts her glass slightly, her fingers curling around the stem. “I… I just want to drink this, watch a movie, and forget everything…just for tonight.”

I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jesus Christ, what the hell just happened?

Oh, you know, dude, you know.

4

Gabby

For the last hour, the romantic comedy we were supposed to be watching has been completely ignored as we reminisce. Cackling like two hyenas hopped up on energy drinks—or in my case, wine. Roman and I sit across from one another in the plush chairs and share stories about the good old days. Which really, weren’t that long ago.

I swear to God, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard or for so long. Both my cheeks and my stomach hurt, but this…us…what he’s doing here for me, is seriously the best medicine.

“What about that time,” Roman starts, but immediately collapses into a fit of laughter so intense he starts flopping around like a fish out of water. I start laughing too, even though I have no idea what I’m laughing about, and let’s face it, that bottle of wine is almost empty, so it could be that.

“What?” I wheeze, sliding lower in my chair, my hands clutching my stomach. “Tell me,” I practically shriek.

Roman leaps from the chair, and flings himself onto the sofa, laughing so hard he’s practically moving it across the floor, but then he gets the hiccups.

“Oh my God, Roman. Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” I push to my feet and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I shove my suitcase to the floor and drop down onto the coffee table next to him. “Drink this before you explode.”

He rolls over to face me, his hands gripping his stomach. “But…but…” He gasps between hiccups, his face bright red from laughter as he desperately tries to get the story out. “That time.” Hiccup. “Those two girls from wrestling club got into a fight in the lunchroom.”

“Ohmigod, the lunch hour Ball Brawl.”

“Ball brawl.” He shrieks with laughter. “I forget we all called it that.”

“Because of Mr. Myers’balls,” I burst out, tears rolling down my face.

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