Page 154 of Forgotten Comeback
My eyes become heavy, and I drift in and out of sleep, dreaming of a spider family who wears spider masks, and it’s really confusing for the other spiders, because why do you need a spider mask if you’re already a spider…
Something shifts the bed, and I know that strong body, that delicious masculine smell. “Hey, baby. You want a sip of your tea?”
“I’m going to paint your brother’s real face, not his spider face,” I tell Gavin with my eyes closed, snuggling closer to him.
“What?”
“I love you. But don’t say it back until I break my curse.”
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
Gavin
A few weeks later…
“Need my good luck kiss.” I tap my lips.
“We’ve got time.” Taylor falls to her knees in my dressing room, looking up at me. “Let me kiss that favorite body part of yours.” Her sultry voice burns through my ears and goes straight to my poor dick.
“That favorite body part ofyours, and nice try.” I pull her up by her shoulders, planting a quick kiss on her pouty lips. Despite Taylor’s work in therapy, she’s still not ready to hear that I love her. So until I can tell her, I’m not going to fuck her. Thought it would be an incentive to get my girl comfortable with hearing it; all it’s done is give me the world’s worst case of blue balls.
Tonight is my do-or-die bout; I win, I make it to the championship. The good news is I’ve got so much pent-up sexual frustration, it’s about to be expended on my opponent’s face.
“Why are you punishing me?” Taylor demands.
“Punishing you?” I laugh at the absurdity, giving her ass a swat before I saunter out.
Taylor
“Told you last week, this getup is covering too much skin.” Steve eyes my long-sleeved bikini top. My wound still looks pretty gnarly, and I don’t want to field questions/hear shit from the peanut gallery.
“Don’t start with me, Steve,” I warn him.
“You’ve been an even bigger pain in the ass than usual.” He eyes me curiously. “What’s your problem?”
My problem? Let’s see, I got shot, and then my boyfriend decided to go celibate. Gavin thinks he’s clever, but I know what he’s doing. “Do you believe in curses?” I ask Steve.
“Yes.” He waves his fingers in a spooky motion, making anOoohsound. “Because I have the curse of the ring girl who, instead of doing what she’s told?—”
“Thinks for herself?” I gasp. “The horror.”
He tries to hide it, but I catch that smile.
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “Do you?”
Steve considers for real. “No.”
“Why?” I wonder.
He lifts a shoulder. “Some people are born with shittier circumstances than others, but if you’re blaming it on a curse, then you’re giving away your power. Difference between a loser’s and a winner’s mentality. A loser always has an excuse. A winnerdoesn’t need an excuse, because they’re willing to put in the work to rise above the bullshit.”
Never one to sugarcoat, his blunt words settle into my psyche. “That might be the most profound thing I’ve ever heard.”
Steve harrumphs. “Ripped it in a fortune cookie. Let’s go,” he says, and I grab my signs and follow him down the hallway, where two burly men are waiting for us. “This is your new security team. They will accompany you to and from the ropes, and be stationed around your seat so spectators can’t interact with you during action.”
“By spectators interacting with me, you mean Mike shoving his tongue down my throat? He should be banned from the arena when he isn’t on the fight card,” I argue.
