ELEVEN
Much to my annoyance, the animosity between me and Kayden has yet to fizzle out the next day. So I choose to look forward to something else, since I refuse to let him sour my mood. Alex and Cara asked if I wanted to join their walk to campus in the morning, and for a moment I considered asking Kayden to drive me there instead, but then I remembered that he’s still a piece of shit so I didn’t bother.
After managing to squeeze in a quick coffee break at Caffeinated, I spend the next few hours drowning in lectures and seminars, trying to pass the time by replying to all of my unanswered text messages. I get a brief text from my dad and let out a sigh when my eyes glaze over it: I’d like to seeyou this weekend. Let’s talk.
I stare at the words again, debating whether it’s a good idea to go home. I haven’t been back in months, instead choosing to pour all my focus into training with Julian and on my assignments. It did help that Jax was also there to keep me company in those moments when it felt like I needed to keep myself busy. Because keeping busy is the only way I can feel sane. And after the whole Jax and Beth thing, I’ve never felt like I needed to cling to that feeling more.
So instead of replying, I shut off my phone and return my attention to the human nutrition science lecture, deciding to make a decision about going home later. Within the first five minutes of the class, as the lecturer drones on about nutrient classification and the basics of digestion, I conclude that it’s going to be a rather dry module, like the other ones I’m taking this semester. While I’ve been tempted in the past to switch to an alternate degree, I always end up justifying my need for this particular one since it might give me an edge when applying for a masters in athletic training after I graduate. And it’ll make my résumé look great when Julian starts looking for someone to run his gym after he retires.
It’s another full day of classes today and I’m really tempted to put myself out of my misery by faking a terrible illness, but if I do, that would mean I’d have to return to the apartment. And that would mean I would have to see Kayden, something that I’m not in the mood for right now.
At least Brent is with me for the last couple of classes, to ease the suffering. We’ve had our best cheesy pickup line track record yet, with a total of twenty-one rolled out back to back during one lecture.
When we’re dismissed from our last lecture of the day, I rush out of class and zip through the streets to UFG before Julian has my ass for showing up late to work again.
“I’m here, folks!” I announce cheerfully as I saunter into the gym, a little out of breath. Julian, perched in his office as usual, glares at me through the window. His legs are crossed casually over his desk and he has a book in hand as he watches me enter the room to make my presence further known.
“Well, better late than never.” His face is set in a bored stare.
“Well, a wise person once said a queen is never late.
Everybody else is simply early.”
“You are not a queen, Sienna. So shut up and just get to work, please.” He gestures lazily toward the young, dark-haired man waiting by the benches, who is already padded up with boxing gloves, ready and eager to train. “Brandon is waiting for you to do drills.”
“Right. Gotcha.” I smile sheepishly and make my way to the lockers to drop off my stuff.
Then I get down to business, Fa Mulan style.
Brandon is a timid seventeen-year-old kid I’ve been training for a couple of months now. He’s one of the few who keeps coming back to train with me, and I’m pleased to say that he’s getting much better. His plan after graduating is to work toward going pro one day, and it’s my job to show him the reality of how gruesome professional MMA fighting can be.
“Jab, cross, jab.” I hit him lightly against the head with my pad. “You’re too far away. And you dropped your right hand. Again,” I order, and Brandon surges forward, eyes laser focused on the pads as he drives his fists toward them.
But he doesn’t notice his feet aren’t planted firmly on the ground. I do, and take the opportunity to hook my leg onto his, causing him to stumble. “Be aware and connected to every part of your body. Again. Jab, cross, jab, hook, hook—come on!” I bark as I tap him on the head, then hold the pads up again. Brandon, unrelenting as he rises from the ground, drives toward me again, his fists perfecting the combination.
“Better. Jab, cross, jab, hook, hook, body, body, jab, cross, jab, hook, hook, body, body— yes. You’ve got it.”
Through the beads of sweat coating his entire face, he musters a smile. I hold up one of the pads so he can high-five it. “You’re getting better. I like the attitude. Tomorrow we’ll work on Muay Thai. Keep up the energy and the next session’s going to be a breeze.”
“Thanks, sensei.” Brandon grins, unstrapping his boxing gloves.
“Wow, Sienna Lane giving compliments,” someone says from behind me. “And here I was thinking they didn’t exist in your vocabulary.”
I whip around to see Kayden walking toward me, his shoulders squared. The strain between us is back, wafting through the air and causing the other fighters in the gym to send curious glances our way.
“I only give them out to fighters who deserve them.” My mouth flattens. “And those who pay me.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see Brandon’s questioning gaze as he wonders which category he belongs to. I merely smile back at him.
Amusement coats Kayden’s face as he watches me. “Fair enough.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He pauses, hesitating. Hands shoved into his pockets uneasily.
“I came to apologize.”
I’m listening.