Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Surprise!” I can feel Tank’s body vibrating with laughter at my reply. I elbow him, but it’s no use because it only hits the top of his leg. This makes him silently laugh harder. I want to facepalm myself but I try and pull it together.
“I mean hello,” I try and recover. “I’m Erika. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I look up and see a woman whom I immediately know is Morry. My cheeks feel warm and are probably the color of a fire hydrant. I put my hand out in greeting, the only other thing I can think to do with it so I don’t facepalm myself at this point.
She looks momentarily shocked before her whole face lights up with a smile. She reaches out, shaking my hand. “Was this who was calling you the other day?” My eyes dart over to Tank as our hands drop away. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his phone ring. Actually, I’ve never even seen him with a phone now that I think on it. My eyes narrow on him. Is he hiding his phone? Who was calling him? I think about my best friend Liv and how her men are crazy about her phone. They use it to track her, and hell, she tracks them, too.
It’s obsessive, borderline crazy, and suddenly I now want that in my life. “She was my good karma for calling back.” Tank pulls me out more in front of him.
“Oh ho, our Theodore has a girlfriend!” Morry exclaims loud enough for the entire gym to notice. I’m so red I’d put a tomato to shame, but I don’t run off and that makes me a tiny bit proud. “Does Patty know about this?”
“Not yet.” Tank shifts uncomfortably from side to side.
“You better or she’ll skin you alive next time you have dinner. Patty is Tank’s foster mom,” Morry confides in me. “The two of us have been taking care of Tank since he was ten, isn’t that right, son?”
“Yeah, so anything you don’t like about me, blame them,” he jokes.
“I like everything about you, Tank, so these two must be perfect.”
“You got a good one here!” Morry cries. She threads an arm around my shoulders. “Come over here and tell me everything. Where did you meet? How long have you known each other?”
I cast a panicked look over her shoulder.
Tank reaches out and drags me back to his side. “Morry, Erika just got here. Maybe let her settle for a minute. Besides, she wants to see me box.” He flexes his biceps and Morry folds over in half, laughing.
I smile, already knowing I’m going to like her. She is trying to make me feel comfortable. It reminds me of something Liv would do. My parents are the opposite. I swear they strive to keep you on edge.
Morry finally gathers herself and gives me a wink. “I’m glad someone finally corralled our boy. I thought he was going to be single for the rest of his life. He didn’t have any interests but boxing and that darned cat.”
“You make me sound dysfunctional,” Tank complains, but their teasing is all good-natured and full of affection, which is light years away from how my parents interact with me.
Tank may have grown up in a foster home and learned to box as a way out of a poor background, but he was happy. I had everything anyone could ever ask for. A big house, an expensive car, designer goods, but my parents made my life miserable. There was no time for laughing and no time for pleasure. It was all about how much I could achieve in how little time. What could I do to make my parents be able to hold their heads up at the country club while the other parents were bragging about their kids’ Ivy League admissions or Rhodes scholarships?
“He’s perfect,” I say, because he is.
Before I know what’s happening I’m up over his shoulder. A small smack lands on my ass. For a moment I’m shocked until I hear Morry laughing. I can’t help but join her as Tank walks off with me over his shoulder. I have no idea where we're headed, but it doesn’t matter as long as I’m with Tank. A few seconds later I’m back on my feet standing by what looks to be a boxing ring. A weird excitement starts to build inside of me—the same kind I get when I’m about to dance. I’m going to get to see Tank in there. I’m going to watch him hone his craft. Thinking about watching his body move about that ring has my mind drifting back to how he was in bed last night. All of those muscles working in unison to give me pleasure. I snap my mind back to reality. He hasn’t even stepped in the ring yet and my body is already getting all worked up. I’m never going to survive this.