I push his mug of coffee closer to him. “Drink up, buttercup. We’ve got shit to do.”
The look on his face is priceless and I decide there will be more of this in our friendship. Fury is way too intense and serious; he needs a friend like me to ruffle him a little and bring some fun into his life.
After breakfast, we clean up the kitchen together. Fury knows his way around a kitchen, which impresses me. But then, his house was spotless, so I’m getting the idea that he’s pretty domesticated.
“How old are you?” I ask as he empties the sink, suddenly realising I don’t know this about him.
“Twenty-five.”
“When’s your birthday?” When he gives me that “are we really doing this?” look, I say, “Seriously, birthdays are the best day in the whole year. I need to know when yours is so I can remember to help make it special for you.”
The look in his eyes turns hard. He’s back to that serious, intense Fury I know so well. “Birthdays have never meant anything to me. I don’t celebrate them.”
My heart hurts for him as I remember what he told me about his parents. When he told me, I was too focussed on myself to really process it, but I’ve since thought about it. Especially with everything else I’ve learned about him and his family.
“Okay,” I say softly, not wanting to push him to talk about stuff that’s hard for him. Then, in an effort to shift the mood back to a lighter one, I say, “FYI, my birthday is on the twenty-fifth of December, and I’m big on people not giving me one fucking present to cover both my birthday and Christmas.” I look at him pointedly. “Just so you’re aware and can act accordingly.”
He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Thanks for the heads up, princess. Now, get your ass outside so we can run through this self-defence stuff.”
I frown. “It’s hot outside.”
“You haven’t been outside yet to know that.”
“Dude, it’s hot in here; I know it’s gonna be unbearable out there.”
He groans. “We can’t do this inside; we need space. You can take another shower after we’re done. Besides”—his eyes drop to my body—“you’re wearing the tiniest fucking shorts I’ve ever seen on a woman; you’re not gonna sweat to death.”
I look down at my shorts. “These are not tiny.”
“They fucking are.”
These shorts cover a lot more of my legs than the ones I used to wear. I have no idea what he’s on about. Meeting his eyes again, I say, “You are clearly blind,” before leading the way out to the backyard.
I was right: it’s fucking hot out here, but I don’t complain. I simply wait for whatever he wants to show me. I might be grumbling about the heat, but I’m grateful for him taking the time to help me.
“Number one thing to do,” he says, moving close to me, “is get loud if someone comes at you. Show him you’re not an easy target and tell him to back off, loud enough so that if there’s anyone around, they’ll hear you.”
I nod and say, “Okay,” while trying to ignore the way my heart has started beating faster.
“You wanna aim at his vulnerable areas,” he says, pointing at each area as he names them. “Eyes, nose, throat, groin.” He stops for a moment, before asking gently, “Are you okay?”
God no, I’m not okay, but I desperately want him to continue because I know this stuff will be helpful. “This is bringing stuff up for me,” I say, a little shakily. “Like, I’m feeling kinda tight in my chest. But I don’t want you to stop.”
He takes a beat, thinking about what I’ve said. Then, nodding, he says, “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“You’re gonna box this shit out. We’ll get to the self-defence stuff later.”
“Huh?”
“Boxing,” he says, like that clears everything up for me. When I continue frowning at him, he says, “Boxing saved me when I was a kid. It gave me an out for my anger and made me feel strong after feeling weak my entire life. It might help you, it might not, but you won’t know until you try.”
“Where are we gonna do this?” I’m not too keen on the idea of doing it in a gym where there’s a million eyes on me.
He must be able to read my hesitation, because his eyes soften and he says, “We’ll do it at my place.
21