Tyed(11)

Yup, that’s definitely it for me.

Trying kickboxing with Jesse might have been okay, but there’s no way I’m chancing public humiliation under Ty’s watchful eye. Every time I’m around him I feel like my limbs don’t belong to me. I can’t use them when he’s watching my every move. I’m leaving.

I casually start for the door, resisting the urge to tiptoe, and I’m about to reach for the knob when a big warm hand snakes around me and grasps my wrist.

Goddammit.

“And where do you think you’re going?” It’s Ty, his voice filled with amusement. The asshat.

“Me? Oh, I think I’m going to pass today. I'm not really into...jiu jitsu.” I try to sound cool.

“You don’t know what it is,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Hence I’m not into it,” I deadpan. He shakes his head no and moves closer to me. I notice he does it a lot, invading people’s personal space. I guess it comes with the territory of the occupation. You know, like thigh-hugging a guy’s head in your crotch to cut off his blood supply until he passes out. That kind of thing.

“You’re staying.”

“Thanks for the offer, but no.”

“Was there a question mark in my voice? It wasn’t an offer.”

Douchebag much?

“I'm sorry, okay, but I really don't want to do this now. I thought we'd be punching bags or something. I don't think I fit in here at all. I hate violence. Please get out of my way.” My eyes are furious, and I hope they are shooting lava darts at his silky black pupils.

“Bullshit.” He smirks, his dimples deepening. “You love violence. Every women does.”

“Excuse me?” I huff.

He circles closer, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. The air freezes. Everyone around us seems to disappear. I have his undivided attention, and I have no clue what to do with it.

“Are you calling me a liar?” I try to keep my voice steady. He's pissing me off. I have a feeling he is assuming that I see whatever other girls find alluring in him. Watch him through the same veil of lusty desire. Well, he's wrong.

“I’m calling you a liar and a bullshitter. All girls like violence. Every woman wants to mate with the victorious warrior. It’s okay, Blaire. It’s in your DNA. Don’t feel bad about it.” His mouth curves into a devastating smile as he brushes his thumb down my spine.

What!

Brain finally kicks Hormones in the butt, grabs the gun at its temple and throws the weapon to the far corner of the room.

I ball up my fist and wave it at him. “I’m warning you,” I hiss, “if you don’t take three steps back from me this instant, you’ll regret it.”

I'd never hurt a fly. But he doesn't need to know that right now.

“Let me get this straight, you’re threatening an XWL fighter with a punch?” He laughs, but his nostrils flare. I’m pissing him off. And I realize I like it. There’s a lot of commotion in the room, people stretching and shouting, but we’re both so oblivious to our surroundings, an alien spaceship could land right between us and we wouldn’t even notice.

“Yes. We both know you won't hit back.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm a girl,” I say with conviction, eyes rolling. His face is so close to mine, I’m almost able to touch his lips. Hormones want to wrestle him to the mat-covered floor, and not in a professional, jiu-jitsu way, but Brain still has the upper hand.

Ty’s warm breath caresses my skin, giving me goose bumps. I’m convinced my heart is thudding loud enough that not just everyone in the room can hear it, but everyone in the county. The air sizzles between us.

Jesse finally notices us and yells from across the room, “Tyler! Get your ass over here, bro. We’re about to start.”

Ty doesn’t break his intense stare and holds my gaze for a few more seconds.

“You wanna hit me? I’m game. Let’s see if you’re as good as your words after class. But you’re staying.” He thumbs my ribcage, and even though I want to run away, I stay put. Not because he tells me to, but because I sure as hell don’t want him to think I’m afraid of him.

We start off with dynamic stretching and move to cardio, with lots of jump squats and walking lunges. It’s intense, but I try to keep up. I don't smoke much weed, I really don't, but I'm beginning to reassess whether to ditch my new hobby altogether. I don't remember feeling so out of breath when working out, and I used to be a sporty kid up until my senior year in high school. Practically the best runner out of all the girls in my class. I feel dizzy and exhausted as hell, but my pride won't let me stop. I wish I had the same approach to college. It might have saved me time and my parents a whole lotta money and pep talks.

“Doing a great job there, kid.” Jesse gives me the thumbs up as I complete another round of sprinting and crawling. At this point, nausea takes over my entire body, but I’m not giving up.

Tyler ignores my existence, but I somehow figured that he would.

After warm-up, we get down to business, and this is much harder for me to keep up with. I don’t have the technique or the knowledge to compete with the person I’m paired with. As it happens, I’m teamed with a veteran kickboxer named Josie. Josie is a real ballbuster. She’s well into her forties but could probably skin me alive and use my body as a living room rug if she wanted. I’m no challenge for her, and she’s obviously growing frustrated with my inability to fight back. We take turns holding the pad for each other while the other person throws punches. Neither of us actually gets hit, but I get tired whenever it’s my turn to spar and exhausted from holding the pad whenever she throws punches. I know I’m slowing her down, and she is losing patience.