July 27, 2014
It's SDCC weekend! I love how much my Twitter and Facebook feeds explode with fun and exciting information about my favorite shows and movies. So many great pictures, quotes, and rapid-fire reports to sink into and devour—a new trailer for what to expect on the rest of Defiance, a teaser for Arrow season three, reports about The Avengers: Age of Utron, and tons of cosplay pictures, which I love to see.
And SDCC kind of launches the countdown for Dragon Con in September. I've never had the opportunity to attend, but I have so many online friends who go, I'm lucky enough to pretty much experience the whole thing vicariously through them.
Tonight's post is from, On the Bench, a short story set in an ultimate fighting / mixed martial arts scene.
Here's the tagline:
Peyton Bice comes of age around the mixed marital arts sporting events and her past comes calling in the form of her father's former star fighter, now a leading trainer. Rookie Cliff Westfordson offers a shoulder to lean on, but Peyton fears getting tangled up with the newest recruit on her dad's roster.
And a snippety peek…
Cliff entered the darkened gym and found Peyton slumped against the back wall, her knees drawn up to her chest with her chin, her forehead resting on top. He had no idea where her thoughts might be, no clue how she felt, but he wouldn't want to be alone after severely injuring another fighter.
He quietly walked over and settled down on the bench perpendicular to the wall. He reclined back with his legs on either side of the cushioned seat. He angled his head toward her, wondering if she might have fallen asleep. He wouldn't blame her. The emotional toll from the last month could've finally caught up with her.
She lifted her head and gave him a level stare.
He met her gaze head on. "I'll listen, if and when you're ready to talk, Peyton." He glanced away. "About anything." Even Roman 'the Dick' Capps.
She snorted. "You sure about that?" She rolled up to her feet, the dim light casting a shadow over her already blackened eye. "You might want to be careful about making promises to a jealous bitch of a shrew."
Roman's words had cut deep, but she didn't have to use Cliff as a target.
He straightened his head and gazed up at the ceiling. "Only one person thinks you're a bitch, Peyton, and he's not here."
She moved forward, glancing down. "No, he's sitting vigil in the hospital, but you're playing shrink, trying to get inside my head." She huffed out a harsh breath. "Trust me, Cliff. You won't score any points by figuring me out. And it won't help you move up on the roster."
He shook his head. "Right, should have known you'd leap to a stupid conclusion." He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, shutting her out.
He'd never get anything right with her.
Peyton crossed the room and exited.
Cliff stayed, running the fight through his head again, knowing deep in his gut, Peyton hadn't inflicted all the damage. Carmella had entered the cage favoring her right side and Peyton always went for the left with a cross jab. He'd bet his contract someone else had laid a beat down on Carmella before the fight.
But he'd never prove his hunch.
The door cracked open and Peyton entered, crossing the floor with soft footfalls. She paused by the bench, gazing steadily in his direction for several long moments. Cliff met her stare but kept his mouth shut.
Peyton straddled him on the bench, her butt resting atop his thighs. "Look, I appreciate the offer. I do." She shrugged. "But I'm sorry. I just can't." She waited a beat. "Yet. I need to process everything."
Cliff studied her, wanting to push and force the issue, but he nodded. "It's a standing kind of deal." He'd honor her wish… for now.
Peyton won't wait too long to open up, but she's got other things on her mind first.
That's it for this week. Happy reading!