Perfect Addiction (Perfect 2)

“Exactly,” Kayden confirms. But then horror settles onto his face as he fully processes the meaning of my words. He stops abruptly in his tracks. “No. That is not what I mean—”

“That’s all right.” I flip my ponytail off my shoulder, gleaming with confidence. “I know I’m hot.”

An earnest sigh escapes him as he eases into a walking pace. I follow suit. “Haven’t you heard that modesty is the best policy?”

“Honesty is the best policy. And yeah, I’m being honest.

I think I’m fairly attractive.”

Kayden looks away hastily. But that doesn’t stop me catching the slight flush creeping up his cheeks. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Come on. Of course you have.” I goad him. “You just don’t want to admit it because you don’t like me very much.”

Kayden gives me the side-eye. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Lucky. It’s that I’m not sure whether I should.”

He picks up his pace again and I break into a determined run alongside him. There’s no way I’m backing down from him this easily.

“Well, let me tell you that you’re missing out,” I say as I attempt to catch my breath. “Brent told me that I’m his all-time favorite person in his class to hang out with.”

“Funny,” he says dryly. “Because Brent told me that you’re bat-shit crazy. And that I should also watch out for you.”

“That bastard.” I faux shudder with betrayal.

Kayden cracks a faint smile, like he’d rather not reveal it. This is the first time I’ve seen him do that, and I hate to admit that I genuinely love the sight of it. It makes me want to steal every chance I can to make him smile again.

Ten minutes later, we come to a halt in front of the entrance to Fenway Park. Kayden rests his hands on top of his thighs as he catches his breath. Even with the sweat gleaming on his brow and coating the sides of his face, he still looks decent. Gorgeous, even. The morning light catches the dewiness on his face and highlights his rugged features even more. Like the dip of his cupid’s bow. The tip of his slender nose. And that insanely cut jawline. He can probably cut through boxing wraps with that jaw.

But of course, the moment is undercut by the wariness that soon lines his eyes—the same expression he’s worn since he met me.

Now that we’ve stopped, I take the opportunity to address the pink elephant in the room.

“Look, I’m not trying to double cross you, okay?”

I assert. “I know you think you can’t trust me. And to be honest, you’re making it hard for me to trust you too. But I’m willing to set all that aside and focus on what we need to do to get you in top shape to beat Jax. I need that win. It’s the only way I can make sure he pays for what he’s done to me,” I say, mouth tightening. “He can’t just fuck up my life and get away with it. I’m not going to let him.”

Kayden studies me carefully, his grey eyes pinning me down. Assessing if what I’m saying is true. His head dips for a second as he blows out a steady breath and pulls himself back up into a standing position.

“I believe you,” he declares begrudgingly. I’m surprised that he would cave; I assumed he was ready to put up a fight about it. “I won’t ask about Jax again. Not unless you want me to.”

“Awesome,” I say, clasping my hands. “I thought we could have a more extensive talk about our training schedule after this.” I slide my phone from the hidden pocket in my pants and steal a quick glimpse at the time. “I have some time before my first training class. You wanna call it? I can go for another mile, but it’s best if we stop here.”

“Fine. Let’s stop. Where do you want to go?”

“Caffeinated makes the best coffee in the city. It’s only a couple of minutes walk from here,” I explain, then immediately remember I left my wallet at the apartment.

“Shit. I don’t have any money on me, though.”

“That’s fine. Coffee’s on me.” Kayden beckons me to follow him across the street.

We walk together in silence for a while before the familiar coffee shop comes into view. I like to come here after class to fuel up before I have to clock in at the gym.

Kayden is the first through the door, holding it open for me.

“What do you want to order?” He asks.

“I’ll have a dirty matcha latte, please.”

“What’s a dirty matcha latte?”