Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)

“See you later, then.”

“Right. Cheers.” Adam nods and ducks off into the crowd to find Ellie.

As if the gods are determined to help out my poor, neglected cock, Kate walks down the hall towards the doors. I sprint into action, catching up to her with a few long strides.

“Hey.”

Great opening line, you numpty.

“Uh, hello.” Kate is looking at me oddly, her petite, freckled nose scrunched up in confusion.

“What?” Lovely. I must have offended her by forcing myself on her the other night. That means my chance with her today is hovering at right about zero.

Kate giggles. “No. I’m wondering… forget it. Did you need something Dax?” Those green eyes, so hopeful, so trusting, are looking up at me, waiting for me to speak.

Every slick word I had ready to get into Kate’s drawers sticks in the back of my throat. My gaze roams over her face, innocent, yet somehow so provocative at the same time. She pushes all my buttons, turning me into a horny bastard, yet I want to cherish her at the same time.

Damn. I pick now to grow a conscious?

Yes, apparently I do, because I can’t bring myself to feed her a bunch of lines. Even though I know I could have Kate in my bed within the hour, something inside me doesn’t want to taint someone so pure.

“Uh… I was just going to see you home. Since Ellie and Adam left already.”

Kate smiles shyly, and my breath catches. Fuck, she’s bloody gorgeous. My cock twitches, protesting the change of plans. It was really counting on getting some action today.

Crap. I’m a fucking bastard, a heartless one at that—but I can’t be the one to manipulate and take advantage of such a sweet, innocent girl. Kate’s not a slag, not even close. I won’t treat her like one.

Rule 4—Women who act like slags can be treated like slags.

Right. “Ready to go?” I ask, willing my rock hard cock to go down.

Kate stares at me one last time, as if deciding whether or not trusting me is a good idea. She seems to come to the conclusion that I’m safe. With a practiced move, she hikes her bag up on her shoulder.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Oh love, you really shouldn’t trust me. I’m most definitely not safe.

I hold open the door to the school. “Let’s go then.”

“Oi! Dax.”

I let go of the pull-up bar and drop lightly to my feet.

“Shaun.”

Buggar. Of course he’d pop by while I’m in a shitty mood. Everything goes tits up right quick whenever my brother Shaun is around.

“I was about to have a go at the bag, but if you’re here…” He gave me one of his evil smiles, the kind that makes you think he’s deciding where to stash your body once he’s offed you.

Fuck. Shaun and I haven’t been in the cage together in months. We don’t mesh well, me and him. Last time we went at it, both of us ended up in A&E—me for a busted nose and Shaun for a hairline fracture of his thumb. Still hasn’t forgiven me for that one, even though it was his own fault for hitting me without making a proper fist.

I look over at the empty cage. It’s calling to me, begging me to step inside and forget about everything else. To forget about my sexual frustration, self-inflicted by way of a newfound conscious. To forget about how I felt when Kate looked up at me with such trust in her emerald eyes. To forget about the fact that I’m just a poor Cockney bastard with no fucking future outside of this club.

Without another thought, I grab my thin gloves and yank them on. “Fine. Do we need a ref?” Shaun prefers to fight ‘street style’, meaning without rules or referees. He hates being told what he can and can’t do.

Predictably, my brother’s eyes narrow and he steps up into the cage. “No.”

Certain I’ll regret this come morning, I follow him up the stairs, slamming the cage door behind me.