Wrong For Me

“Distraction,” Alec says loudly, and my eyes fly to his, light chuckles sounding from around the room. “It’s a dangerous, dangerous thing,” he tells the class with a straight face, but humor lines his eyes. “When you are given a task, do not let anything get in your way. Find your focus and be effective every damn time.”

I’ll strangle him. He used me as a live lesson in front of my own recruits, in front of Rowan. Dirty bastard.

Two can play this game though. Double Ds he said, huh?

“I say we start with push-ups, a basic upper-body strengthening tool,” I tell him, speaking for the first time.

All eyes land on me. My gaze falls on Rowan, who shakes his head and looks away.

“Boys and girls,” Alec mocks. “Oakley Rivera, your secondary instructor. She graduated Blaze a year ago.”

I meet the off-putting gaze of each recruit, skipping past Rowan.

There’s a perception built within them, one they can’t control, which is autotuned to assume the large, intimidating man in the room is who they’ll learn from, who will guide them. Can’t fault ‘em for it.

“You were saying?” Alec prompts.

“Thirty in twenty seconds. Proper form is a must. If everyone gets it on the first try, we’ll move along.”

I turn to Alec, raising a brow, and he shrugs.

“Sounds good.”

“Good.” I grin spitefully. “Time for the demonstration.”

He scowls my way and then drops to the mat. “Tell me when.”

I set the timer on my watch and then drop down beside him, smirking on the inside when his eyes narrow. “When.”

The class watches—me more than him, I’d bet—and a few count out loud. We stay neck and neck, neither tiring nor slowing our speed. When I pop up, he gives one last, full push-up.

I fight the urge to laugh when he hops to his feet right as the timer sounds. He completed thirty-one push-ups in twenty seconds, just like I knew he would.

I stare at him. His chest puffs slightly, and his hands find his hips.

He gives a little tilt of his head, as if to say, There you go.

Too easy and completely expected.

Stupid man.

My lip twitches slightly before I turn to face the class, noticing they’re standing a little taller, a bit more attentive, as they await my words.

“Discipline. It’s a crucial, crucial thing,” I say, mocking his little “distraction” speech.

The group chuckles. I peek over my shoulder at him.

He licks his lips and looks away. His way of fighting a smile, I’m sure of it, and I find myself grinning, too.

When I turn back around, it’s Rowan’s angry eyes that pull me in, and I falter for a moment, but my partner takes his place beside me and picks back up.

“Discipline is key to your success here at Blackline,” he tells them. “When you’re given a task by your executor, it’s your job to complete it as instructed. Taking things into your own hands can cause disaster, loss of structure, or, worst of all, loss of life.”

“As a firefighter,” I begin again, feeding off Alec’s words. “Your truest test will be your ability to follow instructions and work as a team. This is not to say instincts should be ignored, but here at Blackline, we’ll help you recognize instinct over impulse.”

“And there you have it. The double Ds: distraction and discipline. Now, let’s get started.”

We move from station to station, two by two, demonstrating and then recording each person’s skill.

At the end of the session, Alec has everyone grab their bags and drop onto the mat as he goes over the plan for the rest of the week. He’s very intricate in his explanations, making sure each and every recruit understands what’s being asked of them.

I watch him, and after a minute, his eyes swing to mine.

I quickly look to my score sheet but hear the slight grin in his tone as he continues, “As you all know, on top of the standard six hundred hours of fire academy, Blackline requires an additional one hundred hours of after-hours assignments by the end of the program. These are extra ground drill hours you put in, rounds at the gym you were all given access to—things like that. Pull your tracker packs out, and let me see who got time in last night.”

I start checking off the names he rattles off, my pen freezing when he gets to Rowan and gives me a, “No.”

My eyes slowly slide his way.

Rowan clears his throat, not meeting my stare, especially when Gio, the guy he said he was giving a ride home to, also says he didn’t get his routine in.

With a shake of my head, I glance away, but of course, Alec makes sure to grab my attention. The corner of his mouth harshly tips up. He just had to dig and find out for sure, and to think he seemed halfway decent there for a minute.