Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 17

“What exactly does one wear to a boxing match?” I ask, rummaging through my suitcase. I wonder, too, what we’ll be doing after.

“Um,” Charlie looks amused, sitting comfortably on the bed, watching me, “There’s nothing specific that people wear, I guess. You see all kinds of dress. Just wear what you want.”

How helpful, I think, but I say nothing.

“Have you decided what you want to do after? Do a lot of your friends go out after fights?”

“Some do. Are you sure you don’t want to just see if I can still get tickets to that concert? I think we would have much more fun there.”

After the tearoom – since Charlie had mentioned that it was somewhere he’d always wanted eat, but just hadn’t had anyone to go with – we spent the rest of the day going to new places that either of us felt that way about. Some places were completely new, neither of us had even seen them before; they just looked interesting, so we explored. Our conversations drifted comfortably, like usual, from one point of interest to the next. After we were told by a shop owner about a local band who were playing at an outdoor venue though, Charlie made it a point to mention how nice that would be, a lot.

While yes, listening to live music outside with Charlie’s arms wrapped around me sounds much better than going to watch people punch each other, I am quite determined to enjoy myself at this fight tonight. Then, Charlie will realize that I don’t have to be a complete pain in the ass when it comes to his profession.

“Is there a reason that you don’t want to go tonight, besides your belief that I don’t want to?”

Charlie looks away from me, towards the television that is playing on a low volume.

“I’m afraid,” He starts, his deep voice low, “I’m afraid that you’ll see it – what I do – and you won’t want to be around me anymore. It’s different than watching me train, Stella. When it’s just me in a gym, I can be the part of me that you know. But I can’t… I can’t be how I am with you when I’m boxing.”

“I’m glad that you’re honest,” I say, closing the space between us by crawling on the bed to sit beside him.

He puts his arm around me and looks into my gray eyes, leaning his forehead against mine.

“I’m also scared that,” He trails off, but his dark blue eyes still blaze into mine – only for a second though. Then, he drops his head into my neck, and starts to kiss me frantically, almost roughly.

“Charlie,” I say it so quietly at first, because the greater part of me wants him to keep going, but the small, more correct part of me needs to know what he’s saying.

“Charlie!”

I push my small hands against his chest and he backs away. His pouty lips already look a little swollen and his eyes are a bit red.

“I’m sorry,” He says, looking into my eyes again.

“What is it?” I ask breathlessly, “What are you also scared of?”

He is quiet for only seconds, but I can see hours pass in his eyes and it makes me nervous for what’s coming.

“I’m afraid that you’ll think I’m like him – your ex boyfriend.”

No. I think. No, No, No, he was nothing like you. And I don’t know why I can’t say it out loud at first. My mind is panicking because I know that Charlie has always been afraid that I would become fearful of him.

There is such a hard line between Charlie’s aggression and my ex-boyfriend’s, I know that.

“Charlie,” I start, laying my hand on his cheek, “You can’t think that I see him in you. I’ve never worried, not even for a second, that you were anything like him. You don’t remind me of that past, and you never will.”