A Girl Named Sweetie

16. The Name

Jake's POV

Right hook. Uppercut. Punch to the stomach. Right hook.

Knockout.

I've known how to fight for a long time. I used to teach adult classes at the gym, but I got a little... aggressive. It won't happen with Sweetie, though. I can't imagine anyone getting aggressive with her.

I grip her hand tighter as we walk through the doors of the gym. The smell of sweat almost makes me scrunch my nose.

"Alright. Don't make eye contact with anyone. Stop smiling, look mean. The people here aren't like you, Sweetie," I grumble.

"C'mon, everyone likes a smile," she whines.

"Yeah, and when they see pretty girls, they like it a little too much."

She avoids my eyes as I realize what I said, mentally cursing. I don't want her to think that I only like her for her looks. I don't want her to know that I like her at all, but she's just so bright in every single way, and it's hard to stay away from her.

"Here's the girls' locker room. Lock up your stuff and meet me out here. If you're not out here in three minutes, I'm coming in there to check on you," I say, keeping my eyes trained on her until she disappears through the door.

Good God. I can't stop thinking about her. The way she looks everyone like they light up the whole damn world... it's almost too much. But then when she looks at me, it's different. I don't know why. It just is.

She has me whipped and she doesn't even try.

•••

"That didn't go too well, did it?"

"No, Sweetie. I can't say it did."

She didn't punch a thing. First, I tried to get her to hit me. I thought she was gonna cry. Then, I thought she could try hitting a punching bag, but I could tell it was hurting her despite the tape and gloves. I thought she could just punch the air, but no, her whole body would just move with her whenever she threw her back into a punch. In the end, I just had her slow-motion uppercut for an hour.

The only good thing were those damn leggings she was wearing. I don't just want her for her body, but that ass is certainly a perk.

"We could get ice cream! You know, to cleanse ourselves of the negativity of that gym," she says. At first I think she's kidding, but when I look over at her, she's completely serious.

Who am I to deny Sweetie her ice cream?

I take her hand in mine and start walking towards the downtown area where her favorite ice cream place is.

"You do know it's autumn though, right?" I ask.

"Cold foods are best when it's cold outside," she responds, looking straight ahead.

"Fucking what? Who thinks that?"

"I do."

"I bet you think warm foods are best in the summer, too."

"Have you ever had chicken soup in July? Un-freaking-matched!"

"You're insane. Sweetie, you're legitimately crazy. Do you need to see, like, a doctor or something?"

"Nope. You know what I do need?"

"What?" I ask, ready to give her anything.

"Some darn ice cream."

•••

She chooses strawberry this time. Of course she would. I watch as she pulls a 20 out of her backpack, but the look I give her makes her put it right back in - not without a pout, though.

"I'll need your name for the order," says the girl at the counter.

"It's Sweetie. Like sweet, but with an 'I' and an 'E'. It's a long story," she laughs.

"Funny. Can I get your real name for the order, ma'am?"

"It's Jake," I interject. I do not need this girl insulting Sweetie's name right now.

Sweetie chooses a table and pulls out a chair for me. Of course she'd pull out a chair. Silly girl.

"I'm thinking of going by Margaret," she says suddenly, leaning her cheek on her hand with her elbow on the table supporting her.

"Margaret?" I raise an eyebrow.

I look at the late afternoon sun hitting her eyes just right so they almost seem to glow. Her hair, in two braids on the sides of her head, appears red over its brown color. Her lips are smooth and pink and just so kissable. I don't know how anyone could call her anything that isn't 'Sweetie'.

"It's my middle name. I dunno, I guess I'm tired of explaining my name to people. Maybe I'm tired of carrying on the legacy of some strange parental drama," she shrugs. "I guess I just don't wanna be... one dimensional. I want to be more than just sweet, Jake."

She looks at me with wide eyes, as though anticipating what I might say. When she looks at me like that, how can I say no?

"I love it... Margaret," I say. It feels wrong in my mouth.

Then, she leans over towards me, and whispers in my ear:

"You can still call me Sweetie."