Shit. I shove the bracelet back into its hiding spot. The PE class that is supposed to teach me hand-to-hand combat. Ugh. I want to curl back into this blanket and go to sleep, but I can’t. I can’t skip that class because that’s what they want. They want to break me and make me stay locked in my room to lick my wounds.
Fuck them. The thought gives me enough strength to get up from the floor and throw the blanket and pillow on the empty bed rails. Raising my arms above my head, I give my body a good stretch before going into the bathroom and getting ready for class.
The first thing I notice as I take off my bed shirt is the finger-shaped bruises on my upper arms. I press down on the tender flesh, which is already turning purple. It’s sore, but I’ve experienced worse. These bruises will fade, but the memories of last night won’t. They will linger in the dark corners of my mind forever.
Checking the time on the clock, I realize I’m actually running late and kick my morning routine into high gear. I pull the clothes I hand washed yesterday off the shower rail where they are hanging to dry. I get dressed and slip into my sneakers, pulling my hair into a ponytail as I rush out of the room.
I’m in such a hurry that I don’t even notice the odd stares I get as I pass people. Everyone must have heard about the scene in the cafeteria yesterday because I don’t want to think about the alternative.
At least no one bumps into me on purpose, which is a step up from my average day.
I take the elevator up to the upper level and speed walk into the gym, where the instructor’s already started teaching.
Most students are standing around Quan in a circle, paying attention to what he is telling them. All except Quinton, who I spot leaning casually against the wall, looking bored.
Without even thinking about it, I walk around the other students and right up to him.
He turns his head toward me, raising an eyebrow as I approach. I force my feet to stop, wondering what the hell I’m doing? Why am I walking toward him, like a moth to a flame? I know better than to approach the beast, but here I am, marching right into his trap.
A grin spreads across his face, and he motions for me to come closer.
Shaking my head, I look around the room just as Quan announces, “Okay, partner up.”
Shit.
Scanning the crowd, I hope for a miracle of finding a girl willing to partner up with me. Of course, everyone just shakes their heads at me. It doesn’t take long for everyone to find a partner, leaving Q and myself to be forced together again. I trot over to him with my head held high.
“I don’t know why you even try. No one’s gonna partner up with you.”
“You don’t know that. Someone might change their mind one day.”
“They won’t,” he says, sounding nothing but sure of himself. “I’m surprised you came.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I lie. I’m terrified, but I’ll do whatever it takes to pretend I’m not. “And you can’t control me,” I add, that one is less of a lie.
“The second one might be true. I can’t control your mind, but I’m going to try anyway.” He winks at me like he just made a joke or said something flirty. “Now, come at me.”
“Huh?”
“Attack me. You came to class, so are you going to stand around for the next two hours, or are you going to train with me?”
“I was hoping to train with someone more my size. Not with you… again.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“You need to be able to fight off anyone who’s a threat, not only people your size. You think some guy in a back alley won’t attack you because you weigh less than him?”
Damnit, he’s got a point.
“Fine, let’s do this. Preferably without the choking me out part.”
“I can’t make any promises. It seems you bring out the worst in me.” He smirks, which gives me the push of anger I need. Using that energy, I charge him and throw my shoulder into his stomach. Or at least I try to. He easily grabs me and pushes me away like an annoying bug before I can even make contact.
Wrapping his arms around me, he takes me into a bear hug from behind, and his scent invades my nose. He smells as good as he did last night when I fell asleep in his arms.
“Get out,” he says casually like it’s an easy thing to do.
I start to wiggle around, but his grip around my arms is iron, pinning my useless limbs to the side of my body. Finally, I give up struggling and take a moment to catch my breath.