A Glimmer of Hope (The Avalon Chronicles #1)(3)

“No way,” Layla shouted. “Chloe needs to tap.”

“I will not surrender,” Chloe yelled.

Mosa walked over to them, a smile on her face. “Layla, are you willing to break your friend’s arm?”

For a split second Layla’s mind screamed yes. It would be easy to win this round, just apply a little more pressure, and . . . she forced herself to quickly release the hold. “No,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. She pushed herself away from Chloe, afraid that the thoughts might come back. She never wanted to think about hurting Chloe again.

Chloe did a small victory dance.

“You didn’t win,” Layla pointed out, hiding her concern at the violent thoughts that had yet again entered her mind. She’d hoped that time would stop them, would allow her to control her emotions better. Despite all these years of training, those thoughts still occasionally leaked out, wanting her to lose that control she’d worked so hard to maintain. It was her father’s fault. Most awful things in her life could be traced to him in one way or another.

“Didn’t lose either,” Chloe shot back.

Mosa laughed. It was a deep, rich sound. “Go home, both of you. What you do outside this building is not my concern.”

Once her mind was calm again, Layla called after Mosa, “I had her.”

Mosa gave her the thumbs up.

Layla turned back to her friend. “I had you, Chloe.”

“Yep. And if we had been in class, I’d have tapped. But I wasn’t going to give in that close to the end, and then it was just a matter of principle.”

“I could have hurt you.” I wanted to win. I wanted to beat you. All joking had vanished, and Layla’s expression had turned to one of concern.

“No, you couldn’t. You’re not that person. You have technique, speed, and a lot of power, but you’re not the person who would break an arm to win a point.”

Sometimes I’m not so sure, Layla thought as she picked up her gym bag. “And you are?”

“I’m like a ninja.”

“Tell me, do ninjas commonly have blonde pixie hair and colorful tattoos? Just asking.”

Chloe raised her arms as if inspecting them for the first time. They were both covered in a variety of styles and pop-culture characters. “Probably. I’d like to think it’s a progressive job.”

Layla stretched out in the corner of the gym while she waited for her friend to pack her bag. Both five foot four, neither Chloe nor Layla could be considered the tallest people in Mosa’s class. However, they were probably the most enthusiastic, and Chloe was certainly one of the most formidable. Mosa had sparred with Chloe once, and had been visibly surprised at the strength and speed she possessed. Layla was athletic, and in good shape, but she wasn’t sure, in a straight fight between herself and Chloe, who would win. It would be a close thing.

“Are we going out tonight?” Chloe asked after taking a swig of water.

“I have no idea, are we?”

Chloe pushed open the gym door, letting in the cold March evening air. “Oh, come on. You’ve got a few months until you’re twenty-one, and only a few more until you’re officially finished with university. You haven’t been out with me for a month at least, and frankly I miss my wing-woman. Besides, I got these light brown lowlights put in my hair, and they look awesome, and now everyone else must see the awesome.”

Layla wondered just how much anyone would be able to see of anyone’s hair color in a dark nightclub, but she let it slide. “Wing-woman?”

“I’m not entirely sure if there’s a version of wing-man for women, so I took a shot.”

Layla chuckled. She’d known Chloe for the last two and a half years, and Chloe had quickly gone from the girl who served her coffee and went to the same self-defense classes to her closest friend.

Layla glanced at her watch. “It’s after nine.”

“I think by the time we get home, get ready to go out, and leave, it’ll be ten at the latest. I don’t think that’s too late for you, is it? Or do you need to drink your last cup of warm milk by then?”

Layla laughed, which was unfortunate timing as she’d just taken a mouthful of water, spraying it all over the concrete paving slabs as they walked back toward Chloe’s car.

“Fine. A few drinks,” Layla conceded.

“I knew you’d come around.”

“Shall we just go straight to yours? It means me stealing some of your clothes.”

“I’ll manage. I’ve got some electric pink hot pants?”

Layla stopped. “I’m not wearing anything where the color is described as electric. And not hot pants. I’d rather wear a burlap sack.”

Chloe paused as they reached her car, a black BMW M4 coupe. “I don’t think I have any burlap sacks. I could probably find one for you for next time.”

Layla opened the passenger door and got in, pulling on the seatbelt as her friend got into the driver’s seat. “You’re a witty woman,” Layla said when Chloe started the engine.

“Did you just wait ten seconds to come up with that as a comeback? Because that’s really bad, Layla. We need to work on that.”

The car’s engine roared through the early evening, turning more than one head as they drove past.