twenty | pulling punches

(@jordanriki via snapchat story!)

(@aliannagreer via snapchat story!)

THE RARE OCCASION SHE SAW JORDAN IN SOMETHING OTHER THAN HIS TRAINING GEAR WAS A TREAT. Formal wear always clung to his body in a way that Ali couldn't help but constantly stare at through the corner of her eyes. Plus, she'd recently introduced him to skincare and he was taking it way more seriously then she'd expected (he was not only tanner then her but he also had clearer skin—life wasn't fair). All done up, he was practically a demi-god.

Ali wasn't actually up for any awards but she was presenting one so, she needed to mentally prepare. Her stylist had been gone for fifteen minutes but she hadn't moved from her mirror, staring at her reflection. Her idea of herself had become so warped in the last three months.

"Rides almost out front," Jordan told her, appearing against the door frame. Not moving just yet, she eyed him once again through the mirror. He stared back at her.

The blonde nodded, finally turning to be face to face. In the process he must've moved closer because her face almost met his chest. Her breathing caught as she looked up at him. Things had been a little off since New Zealand—she couldn't quite explain it, though. Some of her walls had come down in that hotel room and she wasn't in a hurry to put them back up like she had before. However, it seems he'd built his own in the process. She couldn't blame him, if she were being honest.

They didn't talk much in the car over. She watched as Jordan's leg bounced up and down in place—it annoyed her slightly but she didn't say anything, he didn't have to be here but he was.

It had to be some sick and twisted joke amongst the organisers to have her present an award Myles was nominated for. His name had to come out of her mouth in front of an audience and she had to somehow not vomit in the process. She hasn't told Jordan he was nominated—save herself the drama (praying he didn't win).

It was a blessing he was so well media trained—their joint interviews on the red carpet went so smoothly (even if the interviewers asked extremely inappropriate questions). Like, who asks someone how grateful they are a one-night-stand turned into a real relationship? (The answer is you're not because it's not a real relationship—it's barely a friendship sometimes.)

The award she was presenting was very early in the show so she was sent backstage while Jordan found their table by himself. He was a bit bummed that he'd have to spend most of this award show by himself but he liked watching her career blossom. He adjusted the flower in his suit pocket about thirty times (it matched her dress and he wanted everyone to know that.)

He didn't know anyone at their table and they didn't seem to know or care who he was either. He decided he'd never complain about sitting through the Dally M's ever again—at least he knew everyone that went to that. An artist he'd never heard of did a set that he didn't really enjoy followed by awards won by people he'd never heard of until finally she walked out onstage.

There was a cheer from the crowd as she stood in front of the microphone. He watched proudly as she smiled out into the sea of creators. "Your nominees for comedy creator of the year are—" Jordan was tuning all the names out until he saw hesitation in her eyes. "and finally—M-myles Kingscliffe." Deep breathe as she reconstructed her picture perfect smile. "Congratulations to all the nominees."

A pit began to form in the Māori's stomach as she slid the card out of the envelope. "And the winner is. . ." she paused for dramatic effect. "Myles Kingscliffe!" Her smile faltered yet again.

The crowd erupted into applause as the male stalked towards the stage, chest puffed out. He wore a tacky patterned suit with his hair slicked back—Jordan thought he looked like a clown. His brown eyes narrowed as the man climbed the stairs. Before he knew it, Jordan's fake girlfriend was being hugged tightly by her ex boyfriend. Her hands remained at her sides and her eyebrows furrowed and Jordan could've sworn he saw his jaw move about as if he were saying something to her. It was over fast and he was giving his cliched speech as Ali rushed backstage. Jordan started scanning the room for exits leading backstage.

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MYLES WANTED ALI BACK, HE HAD NO PROBLEM ADMITTING THAT ALOUD—PUBLICLY EVEN. She was perfect for him. She was everything he'd wanted a woman to be. . . that was, until she stopped submitting to his will easily. Those annoying influencers she befriended had gotten into her ear about female empowerment (bullshit).

She went out more. Stopped dedicating as much time to their relationship (and in turn his needs within). She had the audacity to start denying him things. Why had she been shocked his attention turned elsewhere? If she wasn't going to satisfy him, someone else had to (and hey, he thought about her the whole time!)

But this is all besides the point—the past is the past. If he can be willing to put it all behind him and forgive her, so should she.

What she shouldn't be doing is prancing around with a brain-damaged rugby player (of all sports). He was embarrassed on her behalf. There was no way this was nearly as marketable as they'd been. Even when they got back together, she was always going to be tainted by him.

"We both know you belong with me, lose the oaf," he'd whispered in her ear as he held her tightly against him—like he should've been for the last two years. He fought the urge to let his hands travel south—not in front of the audience.

He watched her rush off the stage not long after, knowing he'd have to find her later. They still had a lot to talk about. His eyes scanned the crowd, landing on the overgrown man child sitting all by himself at a table that ignored him. The obviousness of how much he didn't fit into her world brought him a lot of satisfaction. No one would ever make as much sense as he did. Never.

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JORDAN WAS BORED. He was so incredibly bored. He regretted coming to this thing. He didn't know any of these people nor did he care about who won what award. Ali hadn't returned to the table and the show was on the wind down.

His eyes found Myles' empty seat and the pit in his stomach got deeper. As discreetly as a 6'4 man is capable of, he crept away from his table and towards one of the exits labelled 'event staff only'. He acted as confident as he could—hoping he looked like belonged there. He followed the signs until he end up in a hallway that voices echoed down. The familiarity made him stop in his tracks.

"You and I, we understand each other—he doesn't know you like I do," came a voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Jordan.

"Just stop—"

"No, I won't stop, actually. If I can forgive you for everything you did then you should be able to forgive me—to rebuild everything we had," he stopped for a moment. "It's embarrassing to watch you parade around with that idiot on your arm—watching you pretend you could ever be as happy as you were with me—"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Myles," she snapped.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "I know you better then I know myself. I know when you're happy and I can tell you aren't."

"And I was sooo happy with you in the end, wasn't I?"

He made a clicking sound with his mouth—Jordan could imagine him rolling his eyes at her. "When we were good, we were good."

"Do you even hear yourself? You need to move on—I have!"

"We are made for each other, Alianna—"

"You're delusional!"

"—you can't simply move on from your soulmate."

"You repeatedly cheated on me!"

"You drove me to it by denying me my needs!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry that me not constantly being in the mood forced your dick into other girls!" She fired back and Jordan choked slightly on his saliva. She'd opened up a bit about her last relationship but not like this. "I have told you this once and I'll say it again: we are never ever getting back together."

There was a tutting sound, immediately followed by the sound of clothing ruffling and then a bang. He heard her let out a painful groan and the colour drained from his face. Before he realised what he was doing, Jordan had burst around the corner. The scene filled every fibre of his being with rage; the lunatic had her pinned up against the brick wall and was breathing raggedly against her neck. Without even thinking of the consequences, Jordan ripped him off of her and threw him to the ground. For safe measures, he jumped atop him and began punching him.

He didn't get many blows in before Ali began ripping at his clothes to get him to stop. "Jordan—please, don't," she'd cried and the fear in her voice made him freeze.

The way that she looked at him shattered his heart. He couldn't tell if it was disgust or disappointment that she stared down at him with (and he prayed it wasn't fear). He didn't look away from her wide eyes as he climbed off the influencer.

Myles, wiping blood from his split lip stood up too. "God, you Rugby neanderthals are all the same; violent, uneducated—"

Before he could finish his rant, Jordan spun around and grabbed him by the collar. He had about six inches of height on him. "If you ever so much as look in her direction again, I will make sure that no one will ever stomach looking at your face again."

The slight panic in Myles' eyes brought him satisfaction. "I'll do what I want," he spat, attempting to assert some sort of dominance.

Jordan shook him by the collar. "Mate, that was me pulling my punches—you do not want me to finish this job." And with those words, he pushed him away.

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HE SAT ON HER BED, TIE DISCARDED AND BUTTONS MOSTLY UNDONE. Her home was closer to the venue and they'd agreed beforehand it finished far too late for him to be driving home. (Plus, he didn't want her to be alone and he didn't think she wanted to be alone either—whether she'd admit it or not.) She was buzzing in and out of the room as she got unready. Each time she returned something drastic about her look had changed.

He watched her like a hawk, his eyes darting back and fourth with her. Until, "Ali, can we just talk about it?" he said finally and she stopped in her tracks.

Feigning cluelessness, she asked, "about what?" She continued moving about the room, slamming drawers open and shut.

"You know what." He sighed.

Her back was to him and he saw her shoulders tense. "Nothing even happened—it's fine."

Jordan stood up and walked towards her. Gently, he touched her shoulder and she spun around. Her back against the set of drawers, she looked up at him slowly and bit her lip. "Jordan. . ."

"I just want you to know I'm not usually a violent person but seeing him with his hands on you, I—"

"I know," she said, simply. Her expression gave nothing away about what she was thinking.

"I—just that was you looked at me. . . like you were scared or disgusted—"

Ali shook her head. "Shocked, yes. No one has ever punched someone in my honour nor have they witnessed Myles acting like that. . . I was embarrassed that you had to see it," she admitted, staring down at her toes.

Jordan's eyebrows bunched together in confusion and he lifted her chin with his index finger. "You are not the one who should be embarrassed of that, Ali."

The blonde blinked back tears as he pulled her into him. No one ever told her how safe she'd feel in the arms of a big, strong rugby player. She wasn't used to feeling safe around men. They didn't speak, he just held her as she cried—not the first time and definitely nowhere near the last.

She fell asleep in his arms and smiled when she woke up in them, too. She wriggled her way around so that she was facing him. She held back a silent chuckle; he always slept with a massive smile on his face. In that moment, she felt okay. At least, as okay as she could be. For now.

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KK SPEAKS! 
it's been a minute............ sorry!!!

my real life has been a mess & i've had no motivation for literally anything. my goal was to finish this fic before the end of the year but idk now. the formatting of graphics for this chapters a bit off but i felt i've been sitting on this chapter for way too long. (plus no one rly says anything about the graphics so it's fine).

kinda hate this part—if feels too cheesy but i couldn't figure out how to rewrite it any better.

you guys absolutely smashed the goals i set last time so let's aim for 28 votes & 40 comments (on like actual parts of the story, not just the word "update").

i promise the next update won't take a month xxx