Shattered by Natalie Baird

chin
and brought my lips to his, kissing me long and hard as the water
cascaded around us.
    Wordlessly, miraculously, we fell to washing
each other. Of all the things we’d done together in the week of our
acquaintance, this was perhaps the most personal, the most sensual.
We rubbed our sudsy hands over each other’s bodies. My fingers
worked and caressed his every muscle, every firm expanse of skin
and sinew. His strong hands cupped my curves, working over my skin
and leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. I giggled as I
massaged shampoo into his curls, washing away the sweat that had
collected there during his hours at the gym. We stayed under the
hot stream of water until our fingers were seamed and our skin was
scrubbed clean.
    Anderson brought me a towel and wrapped me
up, pulling me against his body once more. I melted into his
embrace, our naked bodies separated by only the soft bath towels.
The mirrors all around us were fogged up, the air heavy with steam.
The warm air of the apartment seemed downright chilly as we headed
into the bedroom to change into something more substantial than a
pair of towels. The day was creeping along, and I decided to choose
a dress for that evening’s fight.
    “What do you think,” I asked, holding up
another, even shorter red dress with a fringed hem, “Would this be
good for tonight?”
    Anderson appraised the dress as he pulled on
a pair of perfectly cut jeans. “What were you wearing the first
night?” he asked.
    “That other red dress,” I said, “You know the
one.”
    “Right,” he said, “Well, you can’t wear red
twice in a row. That’s bad luck.”
    “Bad luck?” I asked, surprised. “What are
you, superstitious?”
    “I wouldn’t call it superstition,” Anderson
said, pulling a back tee shirt over his head, “I just don’t like to
take chances about these kinds of things.”
    “These kinds of things? Like the color of my
dress?” I laughed, “That seems like a pretty arbitrary thing to
worry about.”
    “Maybe,” Anderson said, “But I’ve been
breaking quite a few of my good luck rituals these days. I want to
make sure that I hold on to at least a couple. So, no. You can’t
wear red two nights in a row.”
    “What rituals?” I asked, looking for another
dress that might be appropriate for the fight.
    “Well...” Anderson started, “I’ve never
exactly, uh...seen anyone so close to a fight. If you know what I
mean.”
    “I don’t,” I said.
    “I, uh...haven’t ever lived with a woman
while I was preparing for a fight,” Anderson said, “And I’ve
certainly never slept with anyone so often, leading up to a
match.”
    I looked over at him in surprise. “But
Anderson,” I said, “We just...we’ve been...”
    “I know,” he laughed, “Throwing caution to
the wind, right?”
    “I don’t want to be your bad luck charm,” I
said quickly, forgetting about my wardrobe. “Anderson, what if you
lose a fight because of me? I could never forgive myself. You’d be
kicked out of the league, your whole livelihood—”
    “Hey, hey,” he said, coming toward me,
“Listen to yourself for a minute. You don’t honestly think that
being here with you is going to mess me up in the ring, do
you?”
    But I could hear the worry in his voice. “You
have no way of knowing,” I said. “What if I distract...” I trailed
off, a sudden realization stealing the words from my mouth.
    The night of the last fight, Anderson had
been embroiled in his match...until one moment, he happened to look
up into the crowd. He’d stopped paying attention to the fight to
find me up above and give me a smile. In the brief time he was
unfocused, his opponent had landed an excellent blow, his one and
only of the fight. Anderson would never have been hit if he hadn’t
taken a moment to look for me. It was my fault that the other
fighter had been able to drop Anderson to the sand. And from that
moment on, there had been silence from the other side of the