“From Windsor, Ontario, Canada, Logan Cole!” the ring announcer exclaimed with extra bravado.

  I was so absorbed in Logan I didn’t catch the other wrestler’s name. The bell rang to start the match, and quickly Logan wasted no time going to work on his opponent. After a flurry of fists, Logan whipped the guy into the corner. He stomped across the ring, building up a head full of steam before jump splashing the guy. Dazed, his opponent struggled to stay upright after the referee split the pair up. Logan shrugged, and the camera zoomed in for another panty smoldering smirk. The gasp I let out was fucking shameful.

  Logan charged forward for another go at his opponent, who had enough time to recover. He knocked Logan off balance with a stiff elbow to his face. A swift kick to the head knocked Logan off his feet, allowing him and his opponent to have a bit of a back and forth doing some mat wrestling. Just when I thought the opponent was getting the upper hand, Logan decimated his momentum with an effortless modified snap-dragon suplex. Logan then rolled the guy up for the three count. The ref held his arm up in victory as his video game boss music played alongside thunderous cheers from the crowd.

  The show ended with Logan standing tall and I frozen on my couch, mouth agape. I had countless fangirl crushes on wrestlers before. That was nothing new.

  …But that glorified squash match was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  Logan

  I’d traveled the world. I’ve wrestled in everywhere, from bingo halls to massive stadiums and everywhere in-between. Concussions and broken bones were nothing new to me. It took a lot to rattle me. Or so I thought. My anxiety was through the fucking roof. I was more anxious than a virgin on prom night.

  Logically, I knew my nerves were misplaced.

  1) I don’t date.

  2) Elle made it very clear that this isn’t a date.

  All that was fine and good. But I still had the overwhelming desire to prove to her that I could be a good Dad. Being a good Dad started with a solid foundation and relationship with the child’s mother. I showered, cleaned up my stubble, and changed my outfit twice. Dark blue dress pants and a light blue dress shirt. The matching suit jacket seemed too formal.

  I’m not trying to impress her! I just want to look nice!

  I repeated that mantra to myself as I drove to Elle’s apartment. She opened the door, and I tried and failed to smother the ridiculous grin that spread across my face. Her afro was pulled up into a high puff. She wore a dark blue, long, flowing galaxy mesh dress. Her breasts sat up high and slightly swollen, the only currently noticeable effect of pregnancy. She looked ethereal. Like a Goddess. I was grateful and unworthy to be in her presence.

  The all-consuming desire that led us to this situation in the first place held us captive. Suddenly there was shyness surrounding, gripping, strangling. We absorbed each other. Eyes still watching. My nostrils flared as I took in a deep breath. Air cooled my chest and brought me back to the present.

  “Ready?” I tilted my head to the side.

  She nodded and grabbed her purse. As we walked to my car, I reminded myself that this wasn’t a date. Mental note made; I didn’t get the door for Elle. That was far too romantic for coparents. I was second guessing our plans for tonight.

  Fuck.

  I wasn’t sure what to say, and I didn’t think Elle knew either. We both went for quiet. Negative and questioning voices played in my head.

  “…So, I’m trying out this clutch thing. I’m not sure how I feel about it to be honest. I like a purse with a long strap. Or a shoulder bag. Nothings better than a good shoulder bag!” Elle exclaimed out of nowhere.

  I stole a glance at Elle, who held her shiny purse/clutch thing in my direction like I wasn’t driving and could partake in the purse vs clutch discourse. Her verbal cascade of awkward nervousness made me laugh. My laughing made her laugh. And we were both giggling like loons as I pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

  Elle’s brows furrowed as she looked up at the restaurant’s sign. “I can’t have sushi.”

  “I know. Come on.” I nudged her shoulder with mine.

  Rainbow Dreams was a small sushi restaurant complete with dim lighting, low tables, and decorative lanterns. For a local place, I was surprised at how much it made me feel like I was back in Japan. The hostess Maki flashed a wide smile before leading us through the evening crowd of couples and families to our table. Waiting on us were plates, chopsticks, and large glasses of ice water. I tried to ignore the unease that danced across Elle’s face as we sat across from each other. She opened her mouth to object, but before she could say anything, a loud shout grabbed our attention.

  Chef Seto Kobayashi was a cheerful, heavyset man. When I wandered in earlier in the week with my list of odd requests, he didn’t bat an eye. It also might have helped that we discussed our plans in Japanese. He slapped my back in greeting. I introduced him to Elle, and they shook hands. Seto commented on how pretty she was. I nodded in agreement and didn’t translate the compliment. Excitedly, Seto motioned for the waiter to bring out our meal. Elle’s eyes went wide as a waiter carried a large wooden boat overflowing with sushi to our table. I rested my face on my clasped hands as the waiter slid the boat between us. With another slap on my back for good measure, Seto left us to our meal. Confused and a little exasperated, Elle looked at me. I dropped my hands to my lap and launched into my explanation.

  “Don’t worry, everything on this platter is okay for you to eat. I came in here earlier in the week and talked with Seto about making us a meal of only cooked sushi. You said you were craving sushi, so I wanted to figure out a way to make that craving a reality.”

  I shifted in my seat. Maybe I was doing too much. Elle’s astounded expression morphed into a stoic blank slate as she picked up her chopsticks and motioned at the sushi boat.

  “What is everything?” she asked.

  “Shrimp tempura, Philadelphia, vegetarian, sexy bacon, and crunchy California.”

  “Sexy bacon?” Elle raised an eyebrow as she grabbed a piece and popped it into her mouth.

  Her eyes flickered closed, and her blank expression instantly changed into gooey appreciation as she chewed.

  “…Oh my God! That is the best bacon I’ve ever had!”

  Elle’s shout of approval loosened the tightness in my chest. I picked up my chopsticks and followed her lead by grabbing a piece of the sexy bacon. It was damn good. Elle stuffed sushi into her mouth. If we were in a cartoon, the animators would have replaced her eyes with hearts. It felt good to be able to give her something she wanted. We ate quietly. About halfway through the sushi boat, Elle disengaged from the cloud of her own happiness and smiled at me.

  “Thank you so much. This is wonderful.” Her voice was soft and appreciative.

  “No problem,” I waved her off.

  I didn’t do complements. It wasn’t as if I was such an asshole that I didn’t appreciate them. I just didn’t know how to handle them.

  “…So, are you from the area?” I asked, getting the ‘knowing each other better’ part of the evening started.

  She nodded. “Yeah, born, raised, and still here. Although I did move to Memphis for about a year during college… It wasn’t a very good year.”

  “Why?”

  “I went to chase after a guy. Kinda shameless, really. It was a friend with benefits thing and when he said we could make it serious if I moved with him, I did. It was dumb. He was dumb, and I got homesick.” She shrugged.

  That wonderfully joyful look on her face faded, and I was desperate to get it back.

  “We’ve all done dumb shit for love, haven’t we?” I offered.

  “Have we? I mean I can’t picture you…” She trailed off.

  I raised an eyebrow. She had to elaborate on that.

  Elle rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Explain it like I’m 5.”

  She sighed, “…You said you don’t date, and I mean, I’m sure one-night stands are nothing new to you.”

  I chuckled. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Bed hopping was common to the industry, but it was never my scene. I’d only had a handful of long-term relationships. Elle was first and only one-night stand, but I had no plans of telling her that.

  “Elle, I think the idea you have of me in your head is far from the truth.”

  “Really?” Her puzzled expression almost forced a laugh from me.

  “Really.” I nodded.

  “Tokyo dome headliner has to drop some panties.”

  “If I remember correctly that little factoid didn’t drop yours.”

  “Logan!” she snorted.

  Her smile was back. I sat back in my chair, able to relax again.

  “So, when you told me you wrestle, I wasn’t expecting you to be any good.” Elle said before popping another piece of sushi into her mouth.

  I grunted. “Did you think I meant back yard wrestling?”

  She nodded, “Yeah, I did. I’d never heard of you, so I didn’t think much of it. When I went to college, I stopped following foreign wrestling. I never expected you were Tokyo dome level.”

  “Yeah, Japan was a lot of fun.”

  “Why did you come back to America?”

  “It’s kinda a last ride thing. I started in back home in Canada. America is the only place I haven’t had ‘success’. I want to work my way up.”

  I gritted my teeth. Wrestling was the most boring thing to talk about on a date. I then remembered 2 things:

  1) Elle was a wrestling fan, and

  2) this wasn’t a date.

  “Back when we met, you told me you were working on a project. What kind of project?” I asked, shifting gears just to be safe.

  She set down her chopsticks and let out a long groan. “…It’s a long, geeky, boring story. And you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

  I placed my hand over my heart. “I promise.”

  Elle dropped her gaze to her lap. “…I’m a screenwriter… Well, a wannabe screenwriter. I used to write and draw a webcomic and I would go to comic conventions. Doing those, I would make friends with producers and other writers. When everybody’s drunk in a hotel lobby, some interesting friendships develop. One night hanging out in the lobby, I met Dani. She was just a PR assistant back then, but she worked up doing different things before becoming a producer. She’s lead producer over at StreamTube and she got me an in writing some shorts for an incubator project they did. Those went well and now they’re trying to adapt this 90’s comic called The Fury and the Flood, and she hired me to write the pilot. To be honest, I’ve been struggling with it.”

  “What’s the problem with it?” I asked.

  “The writing is great. The plotting and pacing are so damn good, I want to do it justice. But the thing is, the art is so dated it makes it so hard for me to connect to the material. It’s silly, but it’s really affecting my writing.”

  “I’m sorry you’re struggling, but I’m sure it will be great.”

  “Thanks.” She muttered.

  I had no idea why Elle thought I would laugh at that. Her work sounded wonderfully creative. She glanced up at me and we exchanged tentative, small smiles. However bashful, however tiny, I unexpectedly found myself needing her smiles. I wanted to collect them, horde them in my pockets. Retrieving their brightness whenever the skies were dim and gray.

  I counted off on my fingers. “Two questions. One, did you cosplay? And two, can I read your comic?”

  Elle feverishly shook her head. “God no! That got taken off the internet years ago! I love cosplay! I never really have the time for it anymore, but it’s so much fun.”

  “Cosplay is a lot of fun. Back in Japan I would sometimes go to the ring in cosplay. If you didn’t know, video games are my thing, so I’d rope that into my gear.”

  She nodded. “I haven’t gotten to those matches yet.”

  Suddenly, her eyes went wide, and I couldn’t help the cocky, idiotic smirk on my face. Leaning forward, I tented my hands in front of my face and waited for her explanation.

  “Uh… Thing is…” she awkwardly stammered.

  Blush won over her brown skin and was now very noticeable.

  She slumped back and groaned. “Okay… I might have gotten a pro streaming membership so I can watch your Japan matches.”

  Her admission had the tone of some sort of sinful secret. It impressed me she cared enough to watch those.

  “I have my fair share of fanboys and fangirls, but I never knew the lengths they could go to. Getting pregnant because you like my ring work? That’s dedication!”

  Brows bunched, Elle reached into her glass and tossed an ice cube at me. I laughed and grabbed the cube from where it landed in my lap. The fake fury on her face fell away as I slid the melting ice cube past my parted lips. I couldn’t help it. The false bravado of my wrestling persona popped up. My eyes locked onto hers, I smiled and slowly wiped away the water droplets on my lip with my thumb. Elle took in a deep breath. Her already swollen chest sat up even higher as she fought to maintain her composure.

  I asked, “So, have you told anyone about Blobby?”

  Elle blinked at my sudden course correction. “…Yeah, my aunts. They’re really excited.”

  “Aunts?”

  Elle nodded. “Trisha and Renee, they raised me after Mom passed away. I think Trish started dating Renee about a year after getting custody of me. And it’s been the three of us ever since. What about you?”

  I shook my head. “Not because I don’t want to. I just wasn’t sure what you would be comfortable with. My co-owners know, but that’s only because they were there when you came into the bar. Would it be okay for me to tell my family?”

  “We’re almost out of the first trimester, so I think that would be okay.” Elle’s hands caressed her stomach and mine clenched under the table.

  “My family is right over the border. Next time I head that way, you should come with me.”

  “Really? You think they would like me?”

  “I think so. And if they didn’t, they’d learn to because you’re the mother of my child.”

  Elle smiled. I had no idea how I’ll tell my parents, but I couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t like Elle. Everything about her was wonderful.

  “Silly question and feel free not to answer. But it seems like you’re still getting started with screenwriting. How, uh… do you pay for things?” I blurted out.

  “That’s not a silly question!” She waved her hand dismissively. “When Mom died, she left me a life insurance policy. I couldn’t touch it until I turned 26 and graduated college. It collected interest that whole time and now I’ve got a good cushion for figuring out my life.”

  I nodded, along with Elle’s answer. It was sad that she lost her mom at such a young age, but she spoke about it so diplomatically.

  With a comical groan, Elle leaned back in her chair and patted her belly. “Full so full.”

  I glanced down at the sushi boat. There were a few pieces left, but we almost finished it. I waved down our waiter to ask for the bill and take-home box. As I boxed up our leftovers for Elle to take, chef Kobayashi came back to our table. He beamed and was eager to know about our meal.

  “Everything was so good! I was really craving sushi, so thank you so much for making this for us!” Elle gushed.

  Kobayashi clasped Elle’s hand and assured her it was no problem; he was happy to do it. He slapped my back as I signed the receipt, leaving a long line of ink across the paper. We both laughed. Switching to Japanese, Kobayashi leaned in conspiratorially to tell me to take care of Elle. She’s a good one. Chef’s intuition or something. I nodded in agreement, unsure how to tell him we weren’t together. Again, I didn’t translate.

  “I know you’re full, but how do you feel about smoothies for dessert?” I asked as we left the restaurant.

  “I think we can always make an exception for smoothies,” Elle grinned, her eyes twinkling.

  We walked across the plaza to the smoothie shop. I grimaced at the menu. They offered a ton of protein power or energy mix ins. I already had a regiment, and I wasn’t sure what was okay for Elle to have. We spend extra time combing over the menu and finally decided on a small kiwi, strawberry smoothie for her and a banana/berry smoothie for me. We sat outside in a pair of iron wrought chairs. The night air felt good on my face. I glanced at Elle, who slowly closed her puckered lips around her straw. She knew what she was doing. I blinked a few times and cleared my throat with a hard cough. She smirked at me; her plump, pink lips looked utterly devilish.

  Two can play this game.

  I sat my smoothie on the sidewalk beside my chair and slowly unbuttoned and rolled up my cuffs. With forearms exposed, I then unbuttoned the top few buttons on my dress shirt. Leaning back, I peeked at Elle, who chewed on her straw in quiet appreciation. A quiet chuckle burned my throat.

  The drive back to Elle’s apartment was quiet. My heart pounded so hard it felt like I was in a 30-minute ironman match. I parked the car and grabbed the leftovers from the backseat. I followed a few steps behind Elle. She stopped at her door and turned back to me.

  “You afraid I’ll bite you?” She laughed.

  Damnit.

  She poked the fucking bear. I stepped fully into my wrestling persona. I dropped the leftovers and closed the space between us with two large steps. I pressed our foreheads together and closed my eyes to temper the storm ripping through me. Elle reached up and tangled her hands in my hair. The anti-nausea bands on her wrists rubbed my temples. Carefully, she pressed our lips together in a peck of kiss. She was messing with me. It’s not enough. I was on fucking fire, and she was my ice bath.

  I pushed her back against the door and pressed my body against hers. Just as a moan escaped her mouth, I dived in for another kiss. I noted the taste of kiwi as my tongue circled hers. Elle tugged at my hair, eliciting a groan from me. I lavished licks and kisses down her neck as she squirmed under me. A well-placed thrust of my hips let her know how I felt. She gasped, and I returned my lips to hers. I needed her naked body against mine. Skin on skin. I needed to be inside her. The reality of Elle’s hands pushing against my chest pulled me away from those naked fantasies. I reluctantly stepped back. We both breathe hard.