Harry Styles is the best underground boxer at Birmingham's yet still struggling to make a living.
Emilia Park is a nurse with her life in perfect order, shaped in every aspect to her personal appeal.
Each carry the wounds and trauma of their parent...
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The morning after with her felt like I was in a different dimension of my life. We fixed her bed with new sheets, I rolled my eyes as she insisted that we fix the bed completely. I let her know I never did, that I found it pointless before jumping in and messing up the neatly made up bed we had just spent twenty minutes arranging. She eventually jumped in too, her laughter mixing with mine as we wrinkled the covers and knocked down some pillows. Her body shifted towards mine, lips brushing mine gently before pressing a kiss onto them.
We went to a small bakery for breakfast that I came to every once in a while, making sure it was in the opposite direction of Birmingham's. She was too nosy when it came to my so-called job there and I wanted to avoid it at all cost. Our breakfast was spent sharing two different pastries as she couldn't make up her mind and cups of coffee each. She surprised me then, insisting I get a key to her apartment so that I could let myself in while she was at work. It was strange to me, knowing her less than a week but feeling like I didn't want to be anywhere else.
We walked to a local hardware store after, quickly making a key before heading back to her place. She was talkative the entire time, almost as if she never had someone to express all her thoughts too. I learned she liked to snack on white cheddar popcorn, always had a bowl ready to quickly reach into. We attempted to play blackjack on her coffee table, but ended up building paper houses out of the cards. Some two stories, others single story homes.
"I always wanted an entire loft like building for myself. I make enough to probably get something like that...but now the space would seem too empty and big for just me," she smiled, starting to add a third story to one carefully.
"I'd follow you there too, we could call it the house of broken hearts," I bit my lip, a soft peach blush on her cheeks.
"What makes you think I have a broken heart?" She said softly, eyes locked on mine.
"It's a hunch, if everything else of you, is as similar to me as the things we've shared, I'd say we share a broken heart too," I shrugged and she nodded, looking down to her paper houses.
I hadn't seen her today since she placed a kiss on my cheek before leaving for work. She had done this the past two mornings before work and each time I wished I could pull her against me; hold her there the rest of the day. I had been sleeping on the couch as well these past two nights, trying to keep some decency in our newly formed friendship. I didn't want her to think she was just a sexual fixture in my life, I wanted her to know I was able to make this more than just that.
Packing up my gym bag with everything I needed for tonight's fight made me jittery. It was both my ego and nerves trying to take over my mind. I needed to win this fight to make bills for the next month, I also needed the win to not feel like the weak bastard my father thought I was.
