Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)

Dax frowns at my one word response. He’s probably sick to death of being forced to hang out with me. I’m so intimidated by him that I can’t ever manage to say more than a few words when he’s around. My hands never feel comfortable, so I’m extra fidgety. Especially when those dark eyes are fixed on me. Like they are right now.

“Did you want another cuppa?” He motions to his empty mug.

“Sure. Decaf—”

“With milk. I know.”

I have no response. Dax Davies knows how I take my tea! I’m such a social idiot. Dax will never want to be near me again if I keep acting like such a prat.

“Where’d Dax go?” Adam asks.

“Oh, so you’ve stopped snogging long enough to notice your best mate is missing?” I snap. Catching the hurt on Ellie’s face, I quickly apologize. “Sorry, Adam. I’m out of sorts today.”

Ellie’s eyes flick over to where Dax is waiting in line at our favorite café, then back to mine. I caution her with a look, praying she doesn’t say anything about Dax to let on that I like him.

When he slides back into the booth next to me, my left thigh and arm ignite where we touch. My body reacts instantly. My heart fluttering as if it’s going to fly out of my chest and my breathing becomes fast and erratic.

It’s so embarrassing to have such little control over my body whenever Dax is around, especially if he’s touching me, which doesn’t happen often. My face is certain to be five shades of red right now, pointing out my ridiculous infatuation with him like a blinking neon sign.

Dax leans in, unknowingly unleashing the overwhelming power of his beautiful yet utterly masculine face. His perfect, curved mouth is only inches away from mine. Those lips, soft looking yet surrounded by a rough late day stubble, are so tempting, I’m about to close the gap and see if they taste as good as they look.

“At least they’ve stopped swapping saliva long enough to have a bit of air, yeah?” he stage whispers conspiratorially.

My breath stutters, then I burst out laughing at his unexpected humor. Dax joins me while Adam and Ellie pretend to be offended.

And just like that I’m irreversibly hooked on my drug of choice, Dax Davies.

Dax

“Dax! Do you need me to tape your hands?”

Shaking my head, I remain seated on the rickety bench in the tiny club locker room, not answering my brother, Shaun, as I methodically wind the hand wrap through my fingers. The sharp scent of sweat and menthol sports rub stings my nostrils.

“If you want to win, then you need to—”

“Shaun,” I snap. “Sod off! If I want you to do them or hear your advice, I’ll bloody ask!”

Anger clouds his face. I know I’m pushing it with Shaun. A quick glance at his fisted hands lets me know that he’s itching for a fight. He’s the hot head of the family. Loves everything about this place—the fighting, the women, the money, and the thrill of doing something illegal.

“You’re bloody lucky you’re fighting tonight, or else I’d fuck you up for speaking to me like that.” His dark eyes are cold, lacking any kindness. His twin, Liam, is completely opposite him in personality even though they look identical. I’m truly shocked they get along so well.

“Whatever Shaun. Just tell me when it’s time.”

My brother grinds his jaw, the muscles twitching under the light stubble on his face. Without another word, he turns and leaves.

“Fuck.” I exhale loudly and drag a wrapped hand down my face. Picking a fight with Shaun is not smart. The man is ruthless, explosive, and doesn’t care if you’re family when he starts swinging.

I know I’m being a whingy prick, but I don’t want to be here. After spending the past week hanging out with Kate via Adam and Ellie, chatting about out mutual love of Arsenal football, I’ve begun to resent my dad and this whole fucking scene. More so than usual. I really want to

shag her, more than any girl before, but if I’m honest with myself, I could see myself dating someone like Kate. Exclusive dating, something I’ve never even considered before.

There’s something about Kate that’s different than the tarts that normally chat me up—something that makes her better than them. She’s much too good for a bloke like me. I’ll end up fucking it all to hell somehow, I’m sure. Yet, she makes me want to take all the rules and toss them out the window.

Fighting was never my choice, yet I always thought it was something to be proud of—being fit, winning matches, getting the attention of loads of girls—my rewards. Now, the fighting is like a noose around my neck, pulling tight and holding me back when I want to be free to be with Kate. I want to be the one who decides.

All my life I’ve been playing by my father’s rules. Now it’s time to do what I want, when I want, who I want.

And I want her.