Tornado (18+)

5- Paisley

No amount of Google searches, photographic images found, or interviews watched could've prepared me for this face to face encounter. My chest tightens and my world grows smaller as the memory of what I've just witnessed replays in my mind. Of all the scenarios I imagined during the last few days, seeing Tez with his cock in another chick's mouth wasn't one of them.

I push through the doors of Stallone's, out on to the streets and fight off the urge to throw up, taking deep lungful's of air to calm myself. I shouldn't expect Tez to be single after all these years, he owes me nothing, but still the shock of seeing him like that ripples through me.

"Paisley!"

My heart misses a beat at the sound of his voice shouting my name. I have seconds to compose myself before he reaches me and I have to engage in conversation while images of her on her knees in front of him still fill my head. I give my hair a quick tousle, paint a smile on my lips, and turn around.

My breath is taken in an instant. Even with the days-old coating of stubble across his jaw, the bruised cheek, and the dark bags under his eyes, he's still as handsome as I remember.

"Terence Blackwell," I say in a sing-song voice, "it's been a long time."

Tez looks at the ground, a hand rubbing across the back of his neck nervously. "I'm sorry for what you walked into back there. If I'd have known... Fuck. I can't imagine..."

Those entrancing eyes of his finally raise to mine. Unmoving, he holds my gaze causing a warm tingling sensation that starts in my toes and quickly spreads up through my body. And because I feel awkward and unsure what to do or say next, I step forwards and gently sucker punch his arm - it's like punching a brick wall - to break the tension.

"Don't sweat it, Tez. We're both adults here, you don't owe me any explanation."

He gives me a tight smile, nothing more. "She's not my girlfriend."

"I didn't ask."

The fact she isn't his girlfriend makes that little scene worse because it means he really is living up to the playboy lifestyle he's portraying on Instagram. That knowledge nicks at another piece of my heart.

His jaw tightens, his face setting firm. "What are you doing here?"

I guess we're bypassing the pleasantries of asking each other how we've been and what we've been doing and instead we're going straight for the jugular. I clear my throat, mustering up my 'telephone voice'. "I'm here to view Stallone's on my fathers' behalf."

The look of surprise on his face makes me think he wasn't expecting to see me here today. "And what do you know about the daily grind of running a gym?"

Jolts of irritation hit me at the accusatory tone he uses. "More than you think."

"Like what?"

I huff out a breath and get distracted by the decaying exterior of the building. The black and purple paintwork is peeling and has faded over the years. The windows are brown with ground-in dirt and grime. Only four letters in the fluorescent signage are lit. The outside definitely needs some cosmetic work.

"Have you lost your voice? Give me something," Tez demands with a self-righteous smirk.

His voice pulls my attention back to him. "Okay - I know that the types of men who roll up to these gyms want to be the next Anderson Silva slash Anthony Ruiz, but they come with the wrong fucking attitude, zero discipline, and expect to make it big overnight."

He nods his head ever so slightly but I want to throw everything I have at him just to wipe off the smirk he's still showing me. So I continue to elaborate.