Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (best books for students to read .txt) 📗

She had on a pink, cotton, floor-length nightgown. She was listening to The Temptations, staring out the window at the distant lights of Las Vegas Boulevard with a lost look on her face. I’ll never forget how her beauty clashed dramatically with the ugliness she held in her eyes. I grabbed my throw away camera and snapped the shot. She was in such a daze she didn’t even flinch. That was two years ago. I haven’t seen her since.

“Raven, you look just like her. She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, she is.”

My chest burns with heartbreak like it does every time I think about my mom. I absently rub my chest in an attempt to push back the pain. I can’t do this right now, going from the extreme high of the last twelve hours with Jonah to this extreme low.

Anyone up for a ride on the bi-polar coaster?

He puts the picture back and turns toward me. There is a kindness in his eyes that makes me feel vulnerable. I look away.

Grabbing my stuff, I remember the can of cat food and head for the door. “Ready?”

He’s standing in the same place, his hands shoved into his pockets. I watch as something works behind his eyes, like he wants to say something but he can’t sort it out.

With a long breath, he nods and smiles. “Yeah.”

***

Walking up to the UFL Training Center doors, my stomach flutters with nerves. The idea of being inside a room filled with guys just like Jonah is daunting and intimidating as heck. He holds my hand as we push through the entrance and I grip him tighter.

Air conditioning and heavy metal hum through the lobby. Bright red couches and sleek side tables line the dark gray walls. At the far wall sits a desk with a striking strawberry blond woman sitting behind it.

Jonah tosses the lovely lady a quick chin lift. Her perky smile fades as her eyes hit me. I give her a small wave of my fingers and suppress the urge to throw her my middle one. I chalk up my aggressive attitude to all the testosterone that drips down the walls like honey.

We make our way down a hallway lined with doors. As we near the end, I hear the vibration of male voices. They get louder and louder until we emerge from the hallway into a massive room.

Clean sweat and the unmistakable smell of man fill the room along with the called-out directions of trainers and grunts of fighters. I slow my pace until a tug on my hand has me moving. He leads me towards the center of the gym where roughly a dozen men are grouped off in various forms of fighting. Some are fighting on a mat while others are punching and kicking bags. A few are taking a break, soaked in sweat and sucking down water, some are on the floor stretching. There is a large octagon in the middle of the room where two men are boxing. The combinations of voices and metal music bounce off the concrete walls and high ceilings, putting a palpable energy in the air.

“Give me your backpack. I’ll put it in my locker.” I hand it to him without looking away from the activity on the floor.

Slowly, the action stops and the room goes quiet. It’s then that I notice all eyes are on me. Crud. I look for Jonah but catch his back as he passes through the locker room door.

Facing the room, I lift a hand to wave, my expression probably as awkward as I feel.

“Who are you?” a handsome, older man calls out to me.

I clear my throat. “I’m Raven.” I try unsuccessfully to control the shake in my voice.

“That’s Jonah’s girl. She’s cool.”

I exhale in relief at the sound of Blake’s voice.

He makes his way over to me, and the rest of the guys stare for a minute longer before they resume their training.

“Hey, baby girl. Where’s Jonah?”

His shirt is off and his skin glistens with sweat. Yesterday at Jonah’s party, he never took his shirt off. I stand staring at the military tattoo that takes up one whole side of his chest, but avert my eyes to his face before I can make out what it says. He’s smiling at me in his usual charming way.

“He went to put some stuff in his locker.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “Is it okay that I’m here? I wouldn’t want to disrupt or cause any problems.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at the guys over his shoulder and back to me. “You just gave these butt holes a reason to show off. They’ll probably have the best session of their lives with you here to put up for.”

My lips twitch, fighting my smile.

“You laugh even when I’m not trying to be funny. What’d I say?”

I cover my mouth to muffle my giggles. “You said butt holes.”

He shakes his head, looks to the floor then back at me. “You ever cuss, Raven?”

My laughter dies as I contemplate his question. Of course I cuss. What adult doesn’t cuss? Ugh. Who am I kidding? I totally don’t. It’s not as if I haven’t tried. It just always sounds so stupid coming from my mouth.

“Of course I cuss,” I lie.

He glares at me with a playful glint in his eye. “Really?”

“Psht. Yes.” My palms sweat, and I wonder what it is about this guy that makes me so nervous.

“All right, fine. Hit me with one right now. Give me your nastiest curse.”

Rocking back on his heels, he crosses his bulging arms over his muscular chest waiting.

My mouth falls open at the ridiculousness. I snap my mouth shut and square my shoulders.

“Okay, I will.” I race through my mind pulling up some of the least offensive curse words I can think of, all of them sounding lame even in my head. “It’s just I’m not mad right now and I never cuss unless I’m mad.” I hold my head high and pray like crazy that he’ll