Tyed

“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.

“Put the pad higher toward your face. I don't want to break your pretty little nose,” she warns for the fourth time as we’re circling, shadow-boxing each other. “And trust me, Barbie, I can.”

Whoa! Barbie?

“I've seen your pink Mini, hon. It's real cute, just like your glittery top, but I need you to focus, I don't get many chances to work out during the week," she explains.

"I’m trying, Jackie Chan Junior. Cut me some slack, this is my first time.” I’m panting and constantly swiping sweat off my forehead with the back of my forearm. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone all G.I. Jane and wasted all my energy in the first fifteen minutes.

“You wanna learn or you wanna whine, Barbie? Hold the pad higher!"

“I’m not a Barbie,” I grunt, which clearly contradicts my point. Jesse and Tyler are moving among the sparring pairs, offering tips and instructions. The last thing I need right now is Ty butting into this thing. So, unsurprisingly, fate leads him straight to our corner.