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“I don’t know about that. It would be pretty awkward if I was at one of her family dinners, right? After what they did?”
“That was all Slade. And he’s a weasel. But that doesn’t mean Demi’s not great. I’ve always liked her. And her mom is really sweet, too.”
“The timing isn’t right anyway. I’ve got to focus on this fight. I don’t need any distractions.”
“Well, you can’t always pick and choose when someone walks into your life and knocks you on your ass.”
“No one has been knocked on their ass.”
But even I didn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.
Because Demi Crawford had definitely knocked me on my ass.
twelve
. . .
Demi
I’d finishedmy workout at the gym, and I’d found it difficult to keep my eyes on Pinky and not keep looking over at Romeo. He looked so damn good when he was training. I mean, he looked good when he wasn’t training, too, but seeing the way his muscles flexed in his biceps every time he hit the bag… The way the sweat dripped down his chiseled abdomen…
My mouth watered at the thought.
I was trying to focus on the positive things, and Romeo was at the top of that list. I’d gotten another cryptic text this afternoon, and I knew it was from Ronny. He asked if we could talk, but he’d sent the messages from yet another unidentified number, so I couldn’t prove it was him or that he’d violated the restraining order.
I’d asked my father what to do, and he’d just said that he would handle it. He said Ronny wasn’t stupid enough to try anything when he wasn’t allowed to come near me. I hoped like hell that he was right.
I’d spent the last hour cooking while Romeo finished his workout. I’d researched the hell out of diets for boxers.
Because when I wasn’t with Romeo, I was thinking about him.
I knew that he didn’t cook, so the shakes could make up for some of his needed caloric intake, and he’d already said that they were making a huge difference. But he needed actual food, as well. A balance of carbs, proteins, and fats if he expected his body to perform efficiently.
He'd texted a half hour ago to say he’d finished his workout and was heading home to take a quick shower, and he’d be right over. I finished up the salad and paced around the apartment.
Why was I nervous?
We’d been spending a lot of time together. Never at one another’s homes, though, so maybe that had me on edge.
Maybe it was the way we were openly flirting now. Talking about dating one another and teasing each other about it every chance we got.
I walked over to the window just as Romeo walked out his front door with some voluptuous blonde stepping out behind him. My mouth fell open, and I squinted when they turned around.
“Ugh,” I groaned once I realized it was Monica Vain.
Her name was very fitting. She was a stuck-up drama queen. She’d made endless fun of me one day when I’d been out at the lake with a group of friends in high school. She’d called me “string bean” as if that was some original, brilliant insult. I couldn’t stand the girl.
If you looked upmean girlin the dictionary, there’d be a photograph of her. She liked to break down other girls and women and thought it elevated her.
I’d never been impressed by her.
And what were they even doing? Sneaking in a quickie before he came over to my house for dinner?
How shady is that?
I was seething. He could go back to eating his lame-ass diet for all I cared.
But of course, I couldn’t look away. He had his arms folded over his chest, and she kept touching his shoulder, which infuriated me even more.
