Unwritten Law (Steele Brothers 1)

I haven’t been nervous or weird about seeing Law after Anders’ quick exit last week, but I don’t realise there’s a need to be until I walk in the shopfront doors and Law can’t even look at me. His neck and ears are red, and if I had to guess, I’d say his beard-covered cheeks were burning too.

“Hi,” I say.

Law lifts his head and grins. Oh, yeah, his brother has a big mouth. “What’s up?”

“Really? What’s up? You hang around teenagers way too much. You’re starting to talk like them.”

“Pfft,” Davis scoffs behind me. “Dude, no one says what’s up anymore. How old are you guys?”

“How old are you?” Law asks. “Dude? That was cool when I was in high school.”

“You say dude all the time!” Davis exclaims.

“Whatever, dude. All of you go get warmed up.” Law tilts his head in the direction of the bamboo curtain.

I go to follow them, but Law stops me. “I got you something.”

“That sounds ominous.”

He goes behind the counter and pulls out white clothes.

“A karate uniform?” I ask.

“It’s called a gi, noob. Suit up, and I’ll see you in there for all the mocking you can handle.”

“You did this purely for your entertainment, didn’t you?”

His laugh as he leaves the room sends a shiver through me. It sounds exactly like Anders.

I’ve left Anders alone since his desperate escape from my apartment, and I tell myself I only keep thinking about him because the sex was amazing. I might have trust issues bigger than Kanye West’s ego, but fuck, I miss sex.

And it’s best if I keep my distance from Law’s brother, because even though I know they’re identical twins and they’re separate people, it’s hard for me to differentiate between the two. Like just now when he laughed.

When I join everyone in the class, there’s only minor ribbing about being a white belt when all the kids are at least a yellow belt. In my defence, they’ve been doing this six months longer than I have.

Towards the end of the lesson when Law trains the kids one on one, he turns to me. “Who wants to see if Mr. Garvey can get me on the ground?”

The kids hoot and holler, but I’m more worried about sprouting wood at pinning my hook-up look-a-like to the mats.

I needn’t worry though, because Law is one tall and sturdy fucker. I may be slightly wider, thanks to weight training at the gym, but it’s obvious weights mean shit all in a hand-to-hand combat situation. After basic manoeuvres that don’t work, I practically climb his back like a tree and still can’t get him to budge. The kids laugh at me wrapped around Law, clinging onto him like a bloody koala.

With a quick grab of my wrist and a flick, Law has me over his shoulder and landing on my back with a thud.

I breathe hard, I’m sweaty, and my vision blurs as Law appears above me with a wide smile on his face.

“Chantel, wanna show him how it’s done?” Law asks.

When he reaches a hand out to help me up, I pull him close and mutter so only he can hear, “You think this is a good way for me to earn their respect?”

He smiles and playfully pats my cheek a little too hard. “Nope, but it is a good way to give this shy girl some confidence. Sorry, I had to sacrifice you for the greater good.”

I’m left speechless as I make my way to the water cooler for something to drink. It’s obvious Law’s passion for this runs deeper than he lets on. He says he started this because of something that happened to his brother, but he has a glimmer in his eye when one of his students gets it.

Chantel gets Law on the ground first try this time, and I think I’m even prouder of her than he is.

When the class ends and the kids file out to the front, I want to ask Law to go to dinner again tonight to talk more about teaching and his classes. I’m in awe of him, and if I become half the teacher he is, I’ll be happy. Before I can embarrassingly fanboy over his teaching method, Davis approaches him.

The kid looks behind him to make sure none of the other kids are listening. “Hey, umm … can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

I should give them privacy, but I’ve been explicitly told not to leave a student one on one with any other faculty—including contractors and substitute teachers. It might be overkill, and the school doesn’t think Law would be a danger, but it’s to protect us as much as it is the students. Pretty sucky world we live in to have these procedures in place.

“Is your brother going to come visit again?” Davis asks.

“I usually only invite him for the last week of school. He has to give notice to take time off work to come talk to you guys.” Law glances at me and then back at Davis. “Why’s that?”