Chapter 14
Monday
Cocooned in a pile of blankets on my couch, glasses on my face, I focused on organizing the wedding on my laptop that I had almost finished. My hair was partially damp still from the forty-five minutes I had spent crying on my shower floor this morning, my mind still occasionally trying to distract me with memories of Matt or Daredevil.
I knew I was going to be in for a long week without either version of Matt until Sunday night, but I also knew we both needed this time apart. We needed to figure out how the other would–or even could–fit into our lives. My mind was still trying to wrap around the fact that sweet, compassionate Matty was the one who'd broken into my apartment and beat Justin bloody before my eyes dressed in Daredevil's suit, snarling and baring his teeth like an enraged animal.
It wasn't an entirely new sight to see The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen like that though. He'd been almost exactly like that the night I'd first met him when he'd saved me from a man who had tried to take advantage of me while I’d been alone and drunk walking home from a bar. And Daredevil hadn't scared me then.
But to picture Matt like that was an entirely new thing. I'd always seen the gentle caring side of him. Saw it in the way he would speak about the clients him and Foggy were helping, especially the ones who couldn't afford to even pay them. Or the way he always offered me advice and comfort, whether it was for my business or my terrible relationship.
Another memory snuck its way to the forefront of my mind and my eyes slid away from my laptop and across the room, staring at nothing as I remembered the night I told Matt about Justin cheating on me for the first time.
"Matt, you really don't need to clear the plates," I complained, pushing my chair out from my table.
Matt's free hand searched along the table for a moment before he found mine, holding his over it when he did. My eyes immediately darted down to where his hand was touching mine, chewing my lip nervously.
"Em," he said gently, "you're often making me dinner here throughout the week. The least I can do is help clean up the mess to show you I appreciate it." His hand slid off of mine as he continued grabbing the dishes. "Besides, I can tell something is bothering you."
My eyes snapped shut, willing the tears not to fall. I didn't want to think about that anymore today. I'd cried enough since last night.
"I'm fine, Matty," I lied.
Rising to my feet, I helped gather the dishes. When Matt realized what I was doing I heard him sigh.
"I'll wash and you can dry," I offered. "That better?"
"Not what I had in mind," he answered, "but I'll take it."
I filled up the sink, adding dish soap and rolling up my sleeves. I handed Matt a clean towel to dry with before focusing my attention on scrubbing the pot and dishes from tonight's meal. I had invited Matt over like I often did throughout the week and very much stress-cooked tonight. Justin never wanted to come over for meals, not unless it meant he'd be getting laid after. The thought of him and what I'd learned he'd done last night was drawing tears to my eyes and I tried to push them back.
"Somethings wrong, Em," Matt pushed gently. "I can just feel it. You're quieter than usual. You haven't made any ridiculous jokes tonight. What's going on?"
"It's nothing," I mumbled out, rubbing a forearm across my eyes.
I rinsed off the pot, handing it out to Matt’s awaiting hands to dry. He was quiet for a minute as I scrubbed at a plate, a slight frown on his face.
"Emily–"
"Justin cheated," I blurted.
Matt's hands stopped what they were doing instantly. Slowly his head turned towards me, a soft look drawing itself over his face. Carefully he set the pot beside him on the counter, accepting the plate I'd just rinsed.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
I scrubbed unnecessarily hard against the second plate, teeth grinding down roughly against each other. "Slept with one of his stupid groupies." I shook my head, teeth grinding harder. "Found out last night when she was all over him after their show." My eyes narrowed, glaring at the plate I was viciously scrubbing. "She looked barely twenty. Wearing literally see-through pants made of lace. Could literally see her thong." A bitter laugh rolled out of me. "He claimed nothing happened, but I heard her whispering to him about Saturday night."
I rinsed the plate and handed it to Matt, tears stinging at my eyes. Matt dried the plate carefully, listening intently as I vented.
"I was working a wedding late Saturday night, like usual," I continued. "So of course I wasn't there. He kept saying he didn't sleep with her but I'm not stupid. I could see how he was flirting." I carefully handed Matt the forks to dry so I didn't stab him with them, rolling my eyes at Justin's lame explanation. "He claims the flirty thing is his 'stage persona'," I told Matt, raising my hands from the soapy water to air quote Justin. "I say it's bullshit."
"It is bullshit," Matt firmly agreed.
"I mean," I began, voice cracking as my hands stopped what they were doing, just resting under the soapy water, "how am I supposed to compete with a twenty year old, Matt? My ass certainly doesn't look like that anymore."
Matt closed the silverware drawer beside him, setting his towel onto the counter. He turned towards me, gently pulling my wet, soapy hands from the water and placing them on his chest. Soap and water seeped onto his blue dress shirt and I frowned.
"Matt, I'm ruining your shirt," I protested, trying to pull my arms back.
"Em, it's soap and water. If you're ruining them then I must destroy them every time I wash them," he teased lightly, a small smile on his mouth when I laughed a little. His smile faded as his face became serious, "Em, look at me."
I glanced up at him, tears still brimming in my eyes as I gazed at his warm, sightless hazel ones.
"You're going to have to tell me if you're looking at me," Matt teased, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. "Because I can't tell."
I snorted a laugh out at him. "I am, Matty," I told him.
"You don't need to compete with anyone, Emily," he told me, his expression softening again. His hands squeezed my damp forearms against himself. "You're a beautiful person. Full of so much love and warmth. He's an asshole for making you feel like you need to be something more. You're already more than he deserves, more than he can appreciate."
"Thanks, Matt," I whispered.
Looking back on that night now, I felt stupid for not realizing how Matt actually felt about me. And then I felt even more stupid that I accepted the apology Justin gave me two days later when I got back together with him.
It should have been Matt.
Tuesday
I spent the morning seated at my kitchen island sipping a latte I made with the last of the beans Matt had brought me from Mad Goat for my housewarming. I was answering the emails I'd neglected the last two days when I had been ignoring human interaction, responding to potential clients inquiring about pricing and packages, scheduling engagement sessions, and tweaking wedding timelines for photos. Occasionally I'd have a sip of coffee, closing my eyes and imagining myself at Mad Goat with Matt beside me. I could hear him practicing one of his opening statements on me if I tried hard enough. The memory of bits and pieces of some of them had me smiling softly.
He was always amazing to watch in lawyer-mode; always so charismatic and well-spoken. But what most people often didn't see was how much he questioned certain parts of his speeches, nervous that he was projecting the right tone or whether phrasing something just a bit differently would sound more persuasive. So he often practiced his opening statements and other long speeches on me, gauging my reaction and opinion, tweaking things just right. And I eagerly listened, enjoying the confident rumble of his voice and the impassioned expressions on his face as he spoke.
I didn't end up leaving my apartment today. I spent my evening crying on my couch drinking a glass of wine alone as I binged Love Is Blind. My mind was constantly oscillating between the grief I was still working through and the fear and anger I felt directed at Justin before it switched back to Matt in Daredevil's suit and the hurt etched on his face before he left my apartment.
Wednesday
I dressed in something besides pajamas this morning after my shower–in which I managed to cry for only fifteen minutes today. I even managed to apply a light layer of makeup afterwards before heading out for the morning. I had a consultation with a couple who were interested in booking me for their wedding next summer and we were meeting over coffee at a nearby cafe in the Upper West Side.
The coffee shop was dark and modern, more upscale than Mad Goat; though I preferred Mad Goat’s refurbished wood tables and small, bright interior. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was relaxing and calming though as I headed to the table with a mug in hand to greet the couple.
We spent a good few minutes getting to know each other better. Immediately I fell in love with the pair; they were sweet, gushing about how they met in college and filling my heart with warmth at the way they spoke about each other. It was easy to see the love in their eyes as they looked at each other or see it in the gentle touches back and forth between them. We talked for a while about the important business side of things after the bride told me all about the vision for their big day. Shortly afterwards they excitedly asked for a contract, filling it out at the shop as I drank down my coffee.
My mind drifted to iced honey lavender oat milk lattes, muscled forearms under rolled up dress sleeves, and bright smiles beneath red-tinted glasses.
My gaze instantly fell on Matt the moment the barista handed me my usual iced coffee. He was hunched over his laptop and braille reader in our usual booth. He looked deep in thought as I walked over, but his head darted up when I was a few tables away, a knowing smile on his lips. I never knew how he always figured out when I showed up–he claimed he could smell my perfume–but it always made my heart swell in my chest whenever he did. Always like he saw me no matter how many others were around.
"Morning, Matty!" I said cheerily, sliding into the booth as he scooted over.
"You're cheerful this morning," he pointed out, still smiling.
"Should I not be?" I asked him as I slid my backpack from my back.
"No, no I like it," he told me. "Just curious. It is Mondaymorningafter all. Most people aren't so…bright."
I set my laptop on the table before me and began to dig around in my bag for my glasses and cordless mouse. "Well, the sun is shining, I had a great wedding this weekend, and," I continued, sliding my glasses on my face and turning towards Matt, grinning, "I get to see you this morning."
The warm smile that lit up his face at my words had me momentarily forgetting that I wasn't supposed to be staring at my best friend like I was. Eventually I snapped out of it, turning back to my laptop and starting it up.
"I take it that's what you're working on this morning?" he asked curiously.
"Yup!" I told him, grabbing my coffee and taking a drink.
He chuckled beside me, shifting a few of his things out of the way. "You might not need the caffeine this morning, Em. Think you're chipper enough."
"Nonsense, Matty," I said, pulling up my program and loading in a memory card. "So what are you working on this morning?"
"Looking for loopholes in an NDA," he answered.
"Sounds tedious," I said.
He pulled his glasses off, rubbing a hand down his face. "It is," he admitted. "But you're a welcome distraction."
I felt myself blush at his words, swallowing hard. I tried to keep my focus on my screen but I'd become very aware of him beside me.
"So what was your favorite part of the wedding?" he asked curiously.
"I have to pick just one favorite?" I whined.
He chuckled, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'm sure you'll tell me about the entire day before I leave here, but what was your favorite moment?"
"The groom's reaction to his bride," I said instinctively without hesitation.
"Wow, was expecting it to take a moment for you to decide at least," he teased. "Why that moment?"
I began culling the photos, focusing on my laptop as I answered. "Because they didn't do a first look like a lot of couples do nowadays. Which I love those, too, don't get me wrong. But when the bride came out from behind the church doors the groom lost it. I mean this guy fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face just straight up ugly crying to the point that the bride straight up lost it halfway down the aisle and then I was straight up trying not to ugly cry because I actually needed to, you know, do my job and photograph everything," I spilled to Matt. "It was a beautiful moment and I have so many great photos of both of their reactions and it literally makes me stupidly weepy when I look back at them, so I can't even imagine how they're going to feel."
I paused, turning towards Matt and about to say more, but the look on his face had my mouth closing. My brows furrowed as he stared sightlessly back at me with such an intense, unreadable expression on his face. I could feel my heart speeding up in my chest.
"What?" I asked him curiously. "Why are you looking at me like that? Too much? I was rambling again, sorry."
"No," he replied gently, shaking his head. "No, I just…it sounds like it was a–a beautiful moment that you witnessed and you uh, you seem very passionate about it."
"Well," I said, focusing back on my work in front of me, "that's one of the things I love about this job."
Looking back on it now, as I sat across from the couple finishing filling out the contract that Matt had written up for me a couple of years ago, I knew now why he looked at me like that–he'd wanted to kiss me like he'd done the other week.
How many times had he looked at me like that and I never realized it?
Thursday
The entire day I spent on my couch editing photos on my laptop trying to catch up with all of my work. I was grateful that after mid-November there would be a lull in my weddings to where I didn't have one every single weekend. Winter weddings generally weren't too popular except around the holidays and Valentine's Day, but now that we were approaching mid-September my work was still going strong. Fall weddings were very popular and I was grateful that I'd wizened up and stopped overbooking myself and stretching myself too thin by now.
By the time evening came, I managed to put my work away for the day. Instead I poured a glass of wine, turned on The Great British Baking Show, and focused on trying to perfect the seasoning on a new dish I'd tried making the other week.
I had missed cooking like this; often I would cook for Ez or Matt once or twice a week. Justin usually complained, but since he was only interested in coming over for sex, usually not interested in a new dish I was trying to make–generally complaining about it being too weird for his tastes–I stopped trying to cook for him. But ever since I’d moved out of Hell’s Kitchen and thrown myself fully into weddings, especially after my breakup with Justin, I hadn’t had much time and motivation to cook like this. My fridge had often been bare and I’d spent most nights ordering takeout if I even ate much at all.
As I sauteed vegetables in the large pot, my mind wandered back to last Saturday night when Daredevil had beaten and threatened Justin before I’d discovered he was Matt all along. The more I’d been thinking about everything these past few days, the more I couldn’t believe how I’d never noticed all of the glaring clues in front of my eyes the entire time. I had gradually found myself coming to terms with this other side of Matt over these last few days, though I still was hopeful that Daredevil wasn’t going to be a part of Matt’s life until it killed him–because I did want more than just a casual relationship with him. I wanted something that hopefully went somewhere, something that actually had a future and not an expiration date. But what Foggy and Karen had told me before about Matt trying to give up Daredevil once before and him eventually going back to it had me nervous if that was even a realistic hope for the future.
And it wasn’t as if I didn’t care greatly for this other side of Matt. There was a part of me, no matter how small, that was admittedly relieved Matt had been Daredevil. Because my feelings and that pull I had toward the charismatic and flirtatious masked vigilante made much more sense now. There was a part of me that was relieved that that particular friendship wouldn’t have to end because of a relationship with Matt. Instead, there was a part of me that was actually curious about maybe being able to do more than just kiss the Devil…
The thoughts swirling in my mind had my cheeks flushing as I cooked, memories of late nights flirting with Daredevil slowly resurfacing in my mind.
I stumbled my way across the street from Josie’s, making my way the few blocks back to my small apartment. I had drank a little excessively before heading home, switching to whiskey shortly after Matt had asked for the time and disappeared with plans for the evening. My stomach had burned with jealousy, aware that Matt’s plans probably meant burying himself in one of the many beautiful women I knew he was always flirting with. The comments Foggy had called after his retreating back had only further increased the jealousy inside of me.
It hadn’t helped that Justin had cheated on me a second time now. It had only been months after the first time he’d done it and he’d sworn up and down that it had never happened. But the idiot had been tagged in an Instagram post by the young woman who was straddling his lap in the image, her mouth on his. Pissed, I’d ended things with him this morning. I had been looking forward to a chance to talk with Matt tonight; he always knew how to make me feel better. But he’d barely been at Josie’s for the length of him downing a beer before he was out the door.
Now I was drunkenly stumbling the three blocks back to my apartment in the humid heat of the night. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings, too focused on the angry and jealous thoughts racing through my mind. Eventually the toe of my sandal caught in a crack in the pavement and I was tumbling face first towards the cement.
But before I could hit, two warm hands had reached out and caught me, one against my stomach, the other just below the bottom of my bra. I gasped, about to scream, until the familiar gravely voice spoke just beside my ear.
“It’s just me, Emily,” the man in the mask told me.
Instantly I relaxed, expelling the breath I’d sucked in right before I was about to scream. I nodded and he gradually helped me back to my feet. His hands remained on me for a moment as I swayed, my own hands darting out to cover both of his gloved ones on my body as I tried to regain my balance. I could feel his mouth just beside my ear, the warm breath of his washing over my neck and making me feel even more dizzy.
“Thanks,” I breathed out.
We stood in that position for a minute, my eyes slowly closing as I focused on the feel of his muscular body pressed to the back of me. I wondered what it would feel like if he turned his head just a bit and placed his mouth on my neck. Wondered how he’d react if I slid his hand just a little bit further up, allowing him to palm my breast. The Devil cleared his throat loudly behind me and my eyes snapped back open.
I licked my lips slowly, my head turning just a bit towards him. “Is your extra sense going off?” I teased him.
“My what?” he asked.
I grinned mischievously, turning a bit further towards him. My mouth was so close to his now. “The extra sense for detecting when a woman’s aroused?”
The Devil let out a breathy laugh beside me and my eyes focused on his lips. They were so close to mine.
“You’re drunk, Emily,” he pointed out.
“So?” I asked innocently.
He released his hands from my body, taking a distinctive step back. I frowned, slowly turning on my feet to face him.
“So I’m not going to sleep with you,” he told me. “That’d be taking advantage of you. And besides, you have Justin. And as much as I hate that asshole–”
“He cheated on me,” I whispered, cutting him off. The Devil’s head tilted to the side, examining me. “He cheated on me a second time,” I continued. “I broke up with him this morning. Found a picture of him tagged with some young twenty-something year old.” A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. “I’d say at least her pants weren’t see-through like the first girl’s, but she was in a dress. So technically this one had no pants on.”
“Emily…” the Devil said, taking a step back towards me.
I spun on my heel, the world still spinning in my vision long after I’d stopped moving. I blinked hard to make it stop.
“Guess I passed my prime now that I’m thirty,” I grumbled to myself, beginning my walk back home.
“That’s not true,” the masked vigilante countered, suddenly falling in step beside me.
I shot him a sideways glance, eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to be hiding in the shadows?”
“No one’s even paying attention to us right now,” he assured me.
My eyes returned to the pavement before me, trying to refrain from tripping again. “Still incredibly weird that you can tell that.”
“You’re not past your prime,” he said. “Justin is a moron. He thinks with his dick because he is a dick.”
“Pretty sure if you had either of those girls’ giant tits shoved in your face you’d be saying otherwise,” I shot at him.
He cringed, his mouth drawing back in a sneer. “Pretty sure I’d rather not.” And then his head turned towards me, a coy smirk spreading over his mouth instead. “Now if it were your giant tits shoved in my face…”
I snorted in amusement, slapping his shoulder as we both laughed.
“I was seconds away from throwing myself at you a minute ago, Devil,” I countered playfully. “You could’ve had your face in them.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, not with you drunk, Emily.”
“So chivalrous,” I teased.
“Of course,” he said, shooting me a boyish grin. “Why else do you think I just walked your beautiful drunk self home?” His head gestured across the street towards my apartment building. “Spent two blocks of your walk following you on the roof though. You seemed…upset.”
“I should really just carry cash to tip you with,” I mused. “You walk me home so frequently.”
His grin remained as he spoke. “You know, maybe you should.”
“Would you accept them in the form of dollar bills?” I asked flirtatiously, heart speeding up at the way his mouth curled into a devilish smirk. “Maybe I could stuff them in your shirt. Though…with how tight that is I doubt that I’d be able to fit anything more in there.”
“Mmm, you could always try, gorgeous,” he purred.
My lip caught between my teeth, my breathing turning shallow. “Maybe tonight I’ll just have to settle for a different form of thanks,” I breathed out.
“I told you, not while you're drunk, Emily,” he teased back. “Down, girl.”
I laughed loudly, unable to resist. “No,” I told him with a shake of my head, smile still spread along my lips. “Though now I’m certainly thinking about that. What I meant was this.”
I stepped forward, grabbing his chin between my fingers and gently turning his head. Carefully I leaned forward, feeling him abruptly stiffen as my chest lightly brushed his. I placed my lips to his cheek, eyes closing as my mouth lingered for a few seconds, and then I drew back nervously.
A slow, gentle smile spread across his lips before his attention shifted back towards me.
“How does that work?” I asked, fighting the blush rising up my neck and over my cheeks.
“Best form of thanks I’ve received yet,” he whispered.
I smiled at the memory, tossing in the opened cans of stewed tomatoes and crushed chickpeas to the pot on the stove. It was almost crazy now, looking back on nights like that where I thought Matt was out having sex with different women, to know he was actually right there with me instead.
Friday
I spent my day once again cocooned on my couch editing wedding photos before spending the afternoon uploading a finished wedding to an online gallery for a couple. Periodically throughout the day I had calls or emails to respond to that had kept me busy. By the time evening came, I hadn’t realized how the day had passed so fast. And then Karen had called asking to come over.
“So how’s it been without any communication with Matt all week so far?” she asked.
We were seated on my couch, Karen with her legs tucked underneath herself and myself sitting cross-legged facing her. Both of us were holding wine glasses in one hand and pizza in the other.
“It’s been honestly difficult going this whole week without any word from him,” I admitted to her, my chest tightening at the mention of him. “I miss him. He’s almost all I can think about.” My eyes fell to the glass of wine in my hand, staring at the dark red liquid. “It’s like all of these memories of Matt or Daredevil just keep popping up out of nowhere screaming for my attention. I try to focus and do one thing, and then boom–I’m reminded of a joke I had with the Devil. Or I’m editing a wedding and I suddenly think ‘oh, Matt would find the story behind this hilarious’ but I…can’t tell him about it because we aren’t talking. ”
“And what’re you feeling about everything so far?” she asked curiously, her blue eyes intensely studying me from across the couch.
I sighed, gnawing on my bottom lip for a moment as I glanced down at the glass of red wine in my hand again. After this entire week I knew what I was feeling already, even despite him being my best friend who had lied for two years about also being the masked vigilante I’d come to know.
“I know I want something with him,” I confessed finally. “Desperately.” My eyes flew up towards hers, tears stinging in them as I felt the emotion I’d been struggling with all week trying to fight its way to the surface. “I honestly can’t imagine him not being in my life. Not after those last few weeks. Not after everything I’m realizing we’ve had together all these years. Karen I…I honestly think I might be in love with him.” I swallowed hard, a lump feeling like it was thickening in the back of my throat. “Like–like hopelessly, utterly, and absolutely madly in love with him.”
Her eyes widened as she chewed and swallowed the bite of pizza. “Well...I can definitely see that,” she murmured.
I blew out a rough breath, my eyes still a bit watery from the tears in them. “I just…I don’t know how this works. Do I just–I just accept Daredevil forever? Until it kills him?”
She shrugged a shoulder in response. “I think that’s something only the two of you can figure out,” she answered softly.
“How’s he been this week?” I asked her nervously. “Have you seen him?”
A sympathetic smile drew across her lips as shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen him this week.”
Karen stayed over fairly late into the night, the pair of us talking about so much until it had gotten late and I needed to get to sleep for the wedding I had to work tomorrow. I’d spent some time laying in bed crying, clutching the extra pillow on my bed tight to my chest. I eventually fell asleep trying to remember what the weight of Matt’s arms had felt like around me the night he’d shared my bed.
Saturday
I spent eleven hours on my feet, heels digging into cuts that never had a chance to heal. I focused on losing myself in the wedding day I was photographing; joking with the bridal party as they got ready for the wedding, giving the nervous ring bearer advice, tearing up at the handwritten vows exchanged during the ceremony, photographing the romantic moment when I snuck the couple to the rooftop and away from their party, laughing at the best man’s roast of the groom before dinner, tearing up again during their first and last dance of the evening.
I came home, kicking off my heels and feeling hopeful. And swearing I’d spotted a dark figure outside of my living room window for a brief moment.
Sunday
I didn’t end up crying in my shower this morning. I even managed to dress in something nice, editing photos at my kitchen island during the day. When evening came, I was out the door, photographing the engagement session I had scheduled. The shoot went on for a half an hour longer than initially planned because I had been having so much fun with the couple.
I rushed home after the shoot, downloading the photos I’d just taken onto an external drive as I ate a salad I’d picked up on my way home. My mind wandered to yet another memory of Daredevil, a small smile playing at my lips as I chewed.
“Oh my God, you want me to hit you?” I asked in disbelief.
The Devil chuckled in sheer amusement, a smirk on his face underneath the dark mask. “Emily, you’d only hit me if I let you, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be half as bad as what I’m used to,” he replied.
I pulled a face and shook my head. “Now I kind of want to hit you,” I joked.
He chuckled again, the smirk morphing into more of an amused grin. “Good,” he told me, his gloved hands reaching out and grabbing my wrists. He lifted them up by my face. “Keep them here,” he instructed. One of his hands lightly tapped mine as he said, “You’re going to need to make a fist to throw a punch.”
I rolled my eyes and curled both hands into fists. “Remind me why you’re giving me self-defense lessons at one in the morning on my rooftop?” you urged.
“Because I don’t want something to happen to you if I’m not around,” he answered. “You should at least know how to throw a punch.”
“I’ll probably just only end up breaking a finger,” I grumbled, very aware of the warm feeling swirling in my gut at his previous statement.
“You’re significantly less likely to if you know how to do it right,” he countered.
His gloved hands adjusted the way I was holding my fist, his fingers feeling around one, readjusting my thumb, before he switched to my other fist. I watched silently as he positioned them a bit closer to my jaw, his mouth set in a focused, thin line under his black mask as he did. And then he took a step back, his masked face rising towards mine.
“Okay, hit me,” he ordered.
I hesitated, staring nervously back at him with my fists raised by my face. “I feel like this is a trap,” I said awkwardly. “Like you’re just going to break my arm if I hit you.”
His head tilted to the side, the corner of his lip tugging downwards. “You really think I’d do that?” he asked, a tinge of hurt peeking through his gruff tone.
“Well, no,” I admitted. “But like, isn’t it instinctual to not get hit?”
The smirk returned to his face, cocky and smug as he said, “I already told you, you wouldn’t hit me half as hard as I’m used to. It’ll probably feel like a teddy bear’s fist. Or like a kitten swatting–”
I threw my fist forward and punched him in the chest, cutting him off. Instantly, my eyes widened and my hands flew to my mouth. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry!”
His mouth broke into a very slow, amused grin. “Like I said, a teddy bear’s fist,” he teased. “You’re over-extending at the elbow,” he said, quickly returning serious. His chin jutted towards me. “Raise your fists again,” he instructed.
Hesitantly I raised my fists where he’d put them before, curling them the way he’d had them. And then he came forward, placing his hands on my hips and turning me carefully. One of his feet came forward, his boot gently tapping at my feet until I had positioned them how he’d wanted. I felt my heart pounding in my chest when he stepped behind me, his solid chest pressed to my back as one of his hands came up to rest on my forearm while the other landed on my hip. His chin hovered just over my left shoulder.
“Bend at the knees a bit,” he directed.
Awkwardly I bent a bit, my cheeks beginning to burn at how close he was to me.
“Pivot on your back foot when you throw the punch,” he told me. “And turn at the hips. The power behind a punch comes from the lower half of your body, not the upper half. And don’t fully extend your arm entirely. Like this.”
His body moved mine in a fluid motion, throwing forward the fist on my dominant hand as the hand he had on my hips gripped tight and turned my body into the punch. His hands pulled me back into the initial stance against his body before he demonstrated the motion again.
“Getting the idea?” he asked, his mouth so close to my ear.
“Maybe,” I answered a little breathlessly.
He chuckled softly and goosebumps rose over my forearms.
“Focus on this, Emily,” he entreated. “Please.”
I swallowed hard and then nodded.
“Okay, you try and I’ll guide you this time,” he ordered.
Slowly, I tried to recreate the movements, his hands on my body and his chest pressed to my back still slightly distracting.
“Better,” he praised. “Again.”
Trying to focus, I ran through the motion again, his hands lightly guiding my body.
“Good,” he said, releasing me. “Now, when you hit, you don’t aim for the chest like you did. That won’t do much,” he told me, stepping back around in front of me. “Your best bet is to punch their jaw,” he said, pointing a finger to his jaw, “or their nose–and if you hit hard enough and break it you’ll really distract an attacker. Another good place to aim is the solar plexus,” he said, gesturing to the place just above his stomach. “Hit here hard enough you’ll knock the wind out of them long enough to get away.”
I sighed, hands momentarily lowering. “What happened to just kicking someone in the balls?”
The Devil laughed, nodding his head. “Yes, you can also do that,” he agreed.
“Maybe I should try that one out next time you say I have teddy bear fists,” I teased.
He smiled back at me, humor in his tone as he spoke. “I implore you to please not do that.”
“I won’t,” I assured him, a slow smirk spreading on my own mouth. “Wouldn’t want to damage your precious goods, now would I?”
He barked out a laugh, the sound pleasant and warm in the temperate night air. I liked it whenever I could get him to laugh; somehow it was comforting and felt vaguely familiar.
My stomach was fluttering with nerves when I’d finished eating my salad. I cleaned up and readjusted my hair in my bathroom. And then I stopped in my living room, turning my laptop off before heading out the door. Once outside, I grabbed the first taxi I spotted and anxiously made my way to Matt’s for our long awaited talk.