Not that knowing more about her would make a difference. Polly was so out of my league that she could be laid out naked on the hood of my car, offering herself to me, and she’d still be off-limits.
Agitated, I picked up my partially unzipped bag causing my current book,Love Bites, to fall out. I grabbed for it, but Sam was faster.
“What’s—aw, hell. Not another one.” Sam grimaced as he picked up the book. He’d laughed his ass off a week ago when he found me in my car reading my last book. “It was kind of funny at first, but now it’s just getting out of hand.” Sam thumbed the pages causing the scrap of paper I’d been using as a bookmark to flutter to the ground.
“Hey, watch it. I’ll lose my place,” I complained, retrieving the paper from the floor. When I stood up, Sam eyed me warily, then slowly extended the book out to me.
Ignoring Sam’s expression, I plucked the book from his grasp and put it in my locker. Sam had no idea Polly existed, and I wasn’t about to tell him. I made it all the way to the locker room door before I realized he wasn’t next to me. Turning, I saw he was still standing in the same place, eyes narrowed.
I held my arms out. “You comin’?”
Finally, Sam sighed and walked toward me. “Yeah, alright. Let’s get out there before your dick shrivels up into your body.”
After warming up on the speed bag, we made our way to the ring. Our trainer, Vick, was on the other side of the gym and gave us a head nod. Sam and I weren’t aiming to be professionals, but it’d been fun learning how to box.
“You give any more thought to moving in with me and Owen?” Sam asked as we started to spar. He liked to talk to distract me. It worked some of the time. He could talk a used car salesman into buying one of his own cars, that’s how silver-tongued Sam was.
“No.” I tried to focus on his movements.
“Come on, our place has three bedrooms, and the clubhouse has a fitness center and a hot tub. We need a roommate. It’s practically a palace. You’d be drowning in puss—” He barely dodged my punch as we continued to dance around each other.
“Keep talking, Sammy. You’ll make this easy.”
He’d told me about the townhouse before. The rent was three times what I was paying my parents in rent and would take a big dent out of my savings.
“You need this, Jace. Just come look at it. I mean, when’s the last time you got laid?”
Eight months ago, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I dodged an attack, his punch missing my shoulder by a few inches.
“Nice try,” I heckled.
“I’m seriously worried about you. Do you know how good the moon pies you gave last week tasted? I would’ve gotten down on my knee and proposed to that woman right then and there. That’s how good those things were. And instead, you gave them to me—not that I’m complaining. But you’re sitting on a golden ticket and not cashing it in. It’s almost immoral.”
“I’ve never been a fan of moon pies,” I lied.
Since I started helping at the school over a year ago, the interest I got from women, particularly single moms, or aunts, or sisters . . . changed. Women would wait outside school for me to slip their phone numbers in my bag or bring me homemade baked goods. I accepted a few numbers at first, but the few women I’d gone out with never seemed to want me, forme. I was never invited over to meet their families, never invited to hang out with their friends. I was a career-less, degree-less young guy in his early twenties. I was “good for a fun time, not a long time”—a direct quote from the last woman I’d taken out whom I’d met at the school. Now when I found their numbers in my bag, I threw them out. And the kids at Young Wills or Sam were always happy to take the homemade food off my hands.
“I mean it,” Sam said as we continued circling each other. “You’re reading romance books, livin’ with your parents, you barely go out. Last time I came over you were keeping score of the Braves’ game with your daddy!”
I smiled through my mouthguard. Sam was still dropping his shoulder when he pivoted on his right foot. I could be patient and bide my time. Patience was one of my best virtues.
“I’m saying this because I’m your best friend. You need to move out.”
I continued to play cagey, watching his every move. Yeah, I lived with my parents. But I had no need for my own place. I was saving most of what I earned, and despite paying rent plus a third of the utilities and groceries, I still had more savings than most folks my age. Plus, my parents needed help. My pop had rheumatoid arthritis and lived in chronic pain, so I did a lot of the outside work, like mowing the lawn and maintaining the cars, because he couldn’t do it anymore. Momma’s nerves were getting worse, and she needed a break from caring for him all the time. And while I didn’t mind doing any of this, my friends didn’t seem to understand. When your parents were the age of most of your friends’ grandparents, it felt different.
There, I thought as he dropped his shoulder—bam!My fist connected with the guard over his cheek.
“You’re still dropping that shoulder, Sam!” Vick called out from across the ring.
Fists up, Sam and I continued to dance around each other, throwing and dodging punches without talking for the next several minutes.
“So, remember that birthday party this weekend? I need a favor,” Sam began. He meantanotherfavor. He’d already asked me for help with a six-year-old’s birthday party this coming weekend when he asked if I could find an affordable traveling petting zoo. Spoiler alert: there were none.
“What’s that?” I threw a punch, which Sam barely missed, ducking out of the way.
“I need a clown.” He feigned an attack then went for an uppercut, which I easily dodged. “And you used to do all that magic stuff, I thought you might be willing to help me out. Please? One last time?”
“I don’t do clowns. And anyway, I can’t. It’s Pop’s birthday. Kent and Sarah are coming into town.” I kept my fists up despite feeling winded.
