Erik “Just wait for me, Okay?” Jack pleads. I nod and he disappears through the door back into the courtyard. I lean against the fence and wait in the alleyway for him to return. It was her again. Why did it have to be her? I wanted to devour her without delay, like some animal. It’s the first time I felt anything other than sorrow, or anger since my mother’s funeral. Simply put, it scares me. The way she stirs me up scares me. I love and despise what she’s doing to me at the se time. I hate losing control, but one look from Harley and I’m coming apart at the seams. I had to leave just to hide my arousal. That hasn’t happened since I was a kid, now twice in one day? As a young boy some days all it took was a warm breeze flowing up my shorts and I’d have to go to the bathroom for a few minutes. Jack comes out and sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. “One-week paid trial. But you need to chill out man.” “I know.

Erik When I make it to the front of the café Marco watches me sit at one of the vacant tables as I wait for Harley. I don’t know what it is about this particular Marco but he’s suspicious of me. The other one accepted me almost immediately, but this one’s been giving me funny looks all morning. He gives me the impression I’m invading his turf. It was his hand on Harley’s waist in that photo I saw this morning. Maybe they have a romantic history? Harley comes from the kitchen carrying a bag of coffee beans. When Marco sees her, he goes to take the bag from her and starts talking to her in rapid Italian. It irks me to see how comfortable she is with him. She laughs and throws back some banter his way. I know I’m not the most approachable looking person. It’s not just my height, I have this permanent glare fixed to my face that I can’t seem to shake. Not that I want to. It’s not up to me to have to change the way my face looks just so other peopl

Erik I don’t understand the feeling that consumes me when I watched her get into that car. I needed to hit something. Repetitively. Preferably that John guy. Boxing has always been my release. Training and sparring are okay, but I only feel sated after a real match. In Norway I usually fight once a month, now it feels like my ever-filling cup is spilling over with whatever this torrent of emotion is. I’m sitting in what was Jack’s old room, now my room. It’s simple but stylish. The furniture is all mid-century modern with colorful prints on the wall. I spent most of my afternoon unpacking and organizing my clothes. I’m still not convinced living here is a great idea, but I have the freedom to leave whenever I want, and go back to my life in Oslo. I sit on the bed and take out my phone. There must be a boxing gym somewhere in this city where someone can point me to a match. I find one nearby, Harry’s Gym. No website, just a number and address.

Erik Jack shows me his plans for his café. The architect did a decent job. Restaurants and cafés aren’t my specialty, but I strongly suggested one of the walls be removed. After putting a few holes in the walls, we look inside and find it’s a load bearing wall. As I start calculating the beam strength required to hold up the roof from caving in I hear a loud motorbike pull up out front. The female ridder catches my eye. I’d recognize that body anywhere, I see it often enough in my dreams. Harley dismounts her bike and removes her helmet. Christ, she’s going to kill me in that leather get up. I watch her bend over to look at something on her bike. "Fuuuck!” She comes inside clearly unhappy about something. “Hey Jack!” Harley notices me watching her. She stops in her tracks. "I didn’t know you’d be here. Why are you so dirty?” I look at my shirt and realize I’m covered in debris from our little demolition session. “I was help

Harley When I arrive at the bar everyone’s already there at our usual spot, all except for John, which I’m a little grateful for. When they finally spot me, everyone raises their glasses and cheer. Ahh, my friends. I catch Erik watching me as I sit. Damn he looks hot. Ripped bleached jeans and a white t shirt stretched across his chest. Wow, he’s braided his hair into one long braid. Modern day Viking right there. “Bitch, you’re late!” Vanessa shouts slamming down a bunch of bills. “This week’s swear jar, three hundred and fifty bucks Harley. It’s a new record.” “Must have been one hell of a week.” Sam mutters into her long island iced tea as she looks from me to Erik. Jack stands up and takes my hand. “Let’s get you drink so you can catch up.” He grabs the wad of cash, and drags me to the bar. When we get there, he puts on his serious face. "Okay, spill.” “Spill what?” “What happened with you