I screw my face up as I hold my hand in the air. “What?”
“I know that’s what I said and now she is sitting with him and they are giggling and flirting and shit.”
I shake my head as I listen to this story. “Are you serious?”
“Totally, oh here they come. I will call you back,” she yells over the noisy crowd.
Oh my god, oh my god. I pace through my apartment with my hands on my head.
Twenty minutes later my phone rings. I snatch it from the table. “Hello.”
“Ok, so.”
My eyes widen. “So what.”
“Um, so they really hate each other.”
My horrified face drops. “What happened?”
“So the fight was ok. Josh won.”
“Yes,” I answer nervously.
“But then it got out of hand again and they kept fighting after the bell.”
I bring my hand to my face as my eyes widen. “Yes.”
“And I think Joshua has done something to his arm and then he knocked Jesten out.”
“What!” I shriek. “What do you mean?”
“Joshua hit Jesten so hard he fell to the ground and then he didn’t get up.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Is he dead?”
She laughs. “No, I don’t think so. No definitely not, he’s alive.”
“Where is Joshua?”
“He is in the dressing room and Cameron is with him.”
“Ok I’m going,” I hang up and immediately dial Cameron’s phone.”
“Hi Tash.” He answers first ring.
“Is Joshua ok?”
“He’s fine.”
“Is the guy he fought alright?” I close my eyes as I wait for the answer.
“Yeah, I just went and checked on him, he just hit the ground hard and knocked himself out. He will be ok.”
“Can I speak to Joshua?”
“He’s in the shower. I will drop him at your house on our way home.”
Hmm. “Ok, see you then.” I hang up, dry-retch again and get into a scalding hot shower, the only place lately where I seem to be calm.
Two hours later I am sitting on my lounge drinking tea while trying my hardest not to get fuming mad. Where are they? Have they gone out? The key turns in my door and Joshua walks in, his arm in a sling. Cameron is behind him.
I glare at him while biting my tongue. Don’t say it, don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.
“You’re an idiot,” I blurt out. Shit, I said it.
“Hello,” he says deadpan as he walks into the kitchen and throws his keys onto the kitchen bench.
Cameron silently shakes his head at me to signify silence. I roll my eyes. This is the testosterone bullshit again.
I stand in an outrage. “What have you done to your arm? You need to go to the hospital.”
He opens a beer and takes a swing.
I roll my eyes. “Cameron, what is wrong with his arm?”
“He will be fine in the morning. I will leave you two lovebirds to it.” He raises his eyebrows at me and smiles cheekily in jest at me being stuck with him. He slaps Joshua on the back as he leaves the apartment.
“I’m going to bed,” I sigh.
He nods. “See you in there.”
I lie in bed as I hear him fuss around in the kitchen and make toast and tea, seemingly unaffected.
I am so tired I feel like I actually had the fight tonight, this man and this life with him is messing with my head and is utterly exhausting.
The sound of pills getting popped from their packets greets me when I hop out of the shower in the morning and I walk into the kitchen to investigate. I slept like a baby and don’t even remember Joshua coming to bed last night. My eyes cover his body and I gasp in shock. Joshua’s face is a mess, he has a fat lip, a black eye, his ribs are bruised, his hand is the size of a watermelon and he’s taking painkillers. I can’t even be sympathetic, this is beyond ridiculous.
“What are you taking?” I ask.
“Just anti-inflammatories,” he murmurs.
I scowl and head back to my bedroom to get dressed for work. What an idiot.
He follows me and gets back into bed and pulls the covers over himself.
I frown at him as I put my hand on my hip. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Going back to bed-what does it look like?” he murmurs.
Now he wants to stay in bed. “Are you not working today?” I ask.
“Mmm, later,” he groans.
I can’t help it-compassion gets the better of me. “Are you alright?” I ask as I bend and rub his forehead and gently kiss it.
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Are you going to go to the hospital and see about that broken hand?”
He nods again, still silent.
“Would you like it if I did this to myself and my body?” I ask.
“No,” he answers quietly.
“Then you understand why it drives me insane that you do this for fun.”