STICKS AND STONES AND A GLASS WINDOW

I find him in his room wearing a black singlet and trackpants, one foot on his desk, lacing up a running shoe. He doesn’t flinch, even though I’ve shifted in without warning. The bed is still unmade, sheets strewn across the floor where we left them.

‘Hey,’ he says and gives me a lazy smile. ‘You up for a run?’

I flex my fingers, control the rage churning in my chest. ‘I’ve been thinking about last night.’

Another slow smile. ‘Me too.’

‘I’m curious.’

‘About what?’ He takes his foot off the desk and turns to face me, trying to work out my mood.

‘Why it happened. Was it so you could brag you’d finally screwed your way through this place?’ It’s an effort but I keep it light. I want to set him up. ‘Why the fixation with adding me to that list?’

He measures me for a long moment and then he lets out his breath slowly. ‘Gabe, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. Everyone else was just killing time.’

‘Is that what you were doing with Mya last night in the training room, killing time?’

He blinks.

‘The cameras are working in there again, Rafa. It’s on tape.’

A shrug, not as casual as he wants it to be. ‘So? I ran into her and she offered to heal me, one thing led to another…It didn’t mean anything.’

‘Are you fucking kidding?’

Rafa waves away my anger. ‘I had no idea what was going to happen with us.’

‘It wouldn’t have happened if you’d told me. Don’t you get that?’

‘Come on, you needed last night. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. And what went on in the training room was nothing compared to what happened in here.’

‘Explain what was different.’

He moves closer, his eyes sharp. ‘Everything was different. For starters, I’m not in love with her.’

I stare at him. For a second I feel it—a faint prick of regret—and then the humiliation hits all over again. I lash out without thinking, connect with his jaw. He takes a step back to absorb the punch, and then he straightens, rubs his face. ‘You done now?’

‘Am I done? You think I’m going to hit you once and then we’re all good?’ My knuckles throb. The pain is familiar, welcome. It centres me.

‘I just told you I love you. For fuck’s sake, Gabe, I’ve never said that to anyone—’

‘And yet I was the second woman you got naked with last night.’

A tight smile. ‘Clearly you haven’t seen the footage. I barely got undressed in the training room.’

I push away the image of Rafa and Mya having quick and nasty sex on the practice mats. It wrings me out, makes me feel like I need another shower. ‘Wow, I feel so special.’

Rafa cracks a knuckle. The sound has never irritated me more. ‘So you want to throw down? Will that make you feel better?’

‘The only thing that would make me feel better is if I could erase last night from my memory. It was the biggest mistake of my life.’

Something shifts in his eyes. They’re darker now, harder. ‘I knew you’d do this. You were always going to find a way to regret last night because it was me. God forbid you admit to yourself I’ve been right all these years.’

‘About what?’

‘That I’m the only one here who can handle you. I’m the only one who’s your equal.’

I scoff. ‘My equal? Maybe in combat and drinking but have you ever had an independent thought, Rafa? One that Jude didn’t give you?’

‘Is that what you want, Gabe—an independent thinker? Then stop looking in Pretty Boy’s direction. He doesn’t know what he thinks until Nathaniel tells him.’

‘At least he has the capacity to think with his brain instead of his dick.’

‘He has to, his dick’s not big enough to multi-task.’

I walk over to the bedside table, lift up a motorcycle magazine draped over an empty tumbler. I fling it on the mattress. ‘Yeah, because you’re an intellectual genius.’

‘When did your head get this far up your own arse? No wonder Daniel’s got such a hard-on for you.’

‘You’re really threatened by him, aren’t you? You know why? Because he’s more man than you’ll ever be.’ It’s a cheap shot but it has the desired effect. He wants to hurt me. And I want him to try. I don’t want to think, don’t want to feel anymore. All there is now is this burning need to punish him.

Rafa moves forward and I snatch up the glass, hurl it at his head. And then I launch myself at him.

He bats away the glass and blocks my punch, counters with a sharp jab to my ribs. I swing again, slam my fist into his kidneys. He kicks out my knee, elbows me between my shoulderblades. I stumble forward, catch myself on his desk chair. I use the momentum to swing around, bringing the chair with me. Rafa braces and turns his face away, blocks with both arms. The wooden legs crack against his forearms but the chair remains intact. It jars. I pull back to swing again, but Rafa kicks me in the ribs. I stagger back, almost trip on a shoe.

‘Just fucking stop,’ he says between breaths. He’s seething. I’ve never seen him this angry.

Good.

I charge, drive him into the wall with my shoulder. Katanas rattle in the rack above us. I land another punch to his lower back before he shoves me away. We’ve sparred a thousand times, know each other’s moves as well as our own. But this isn’t sparring. This time we want to hurt each other.

I land a solid punch on his jaw, harder than the first. His head snaps back and blood sprays from his mouth. It’s not enough. I want him unconscious. I want to humiliate him like he’s humiliated me. I swing again but he’s already recovered, and now I’m fending off a barrage of punches and kicks. I duck, block, counter. Try to avoid the obstacle course of boots and sheets on the floor. He dodges a hook and I grab him in a headlock, trap him against my side, fire three hard jabs into his ribs. He gets his arms around my legs. Too late, I know what’s coming. He lifts me off the floor and over his shoulder, and then slams my back on the floor. The carpet muffles the impact but all the air is driven out of me and in the vital seconds it takes me to recover, Rafa has the advantage. He straddles my chest, pinning my shoulders with his knees, and holds down my arms. His face is centimetres from mine, flushed and bleeding. Hair damp with sweat.

‘Too slow, Gabe. You’re well off your game.’ His lips are flat, twisted in a tight smile. ‘I rocked your world, didn’t I?’

I go still beneath him, catching my breath. Gathering strength. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I was concussed.’ I swing my legs up and around him. I’m quick enough to hook my ankles together around his chest before he can block me. We’re locked together now. I try to wrestle him to one side, get his weight off me so I can use my fists, but he’s too strong. I tighten my legs, manage to push a boot up under his chin. He grunts, turns his face away. I grind the sole into his cheek.

‘Fuck,’ he spits. He leans back to get away from my boot. It’s enough for me to tilt my hips and roll us both sideways. Rafa uses the momentum to change his grip and fumbles for a headlock. For a few seconds we scuffle around, both trying to get a grip.

I find an opening first, not for a submission hold but an elbow to Rafa’s throat. He cough-chokes and I kick free. We roll away from each other and spring to our feet simultaneously. He rubs his neck, gives me a filthy look. I push hair out of my face and eyeball him.

‘You know the worst thing about all this, Gabe? You’re as uptight in the sack as I imagined you’d be. At least Mya’s not afraid to make a few noises—’

Another blast of rage hits me, a hot mess of fury and shame. For a second I can’t breathe through it.

I shift and crash-tackle him. I hit so hard we both smash through the window. It’s a two-storey fall to the piazza. My hand is clamped around his throat, his around mine. We wrestle all the way down. Neither of us shifts to avoid the impact.

We hit the grass. Hard.

Bones crunch. Something gives in my right shoulder. Pain splinters down my arm. We lie panting, side by side. The sun is too bright. I try to lift myself up—shit, everything hurts. I kick out at Rafa instead. He catches me by the calf and drags me closer. I taste grass, dirt.

‘You done yet?’ he rasps. He’s in a world of pain. His cheek is split and swollen, his forehead grazed. A piece of glass is embedded in his lower lip.

‘Not even close.’

Someone is running towards us, their footfalls soft on the lawn. I grab a fistful of Rafa’s shirt, smell blood and sweat. ‘You tell anyone what happened last night and I’ll break every bone in your body. Do you understand?’

He watches me, unflinching.

‘And, Rafa’—I swallow, taste blood—‘if you ever touch me again, I will end you.’