Teacher - Voyeur

“I would, but your niece wouldn’t approve.”

My jaw clamped shut, and I glared, doing my best to burn him alive. There were rules to him dating Olivia, my niece, and one of those was not talking about it at all.

“Jeez, it’s like Grumpier Old Men in here. Do a shot and talk about bowling like the old nerds you are,” Jackson joked, making fun of our love of bowling. “Or hand holding if that’s what you’re into.”

I leaped up, trying to take a swipe at him, but he lunged back, laughing.

Laughing I could handle. Prodding into a past I wanted to forget, I’d pass on that every time.

9

Hanna

Daniel: How do you feel about self-defense?

Hanna: Like I’d rather run and scream.

Standing outside the building Daniel asked me to meet him at, I read over our last few text messages. His question had come out of the blue. It’d been almost a week since I’d heard from him, and in that time, I’d managed to run through every scenario of doom and awkwardness. Out of everything my mind conjured, very few ended with a rational explanation.

So, when his name popped up on my screen just as I was climbing in bed, I’d almost fumbled the phone in my rush to type back. After agreeing to meet him, I’d laid in bed and broke down, the relief flooding every inch of me, that he’d contacted me. Sofia would’ve laughed if she could’ve seen me. When we were kids, I was the rebel—the impulsive one, rarely thinking things through.

But life changed me, and after everything that happened, I did my best to never move too fast into anything. I never shrugged off an emotion without analyzing every facet, wondering if it was a feeling that would lead me to irrational action. I prevented old habits by creating new ones.

Unfortunately, these new habits had me awake at two in the morning, wondering how deep my feelings for Daniel went.

Eventually, after turning it every way I could, I understood the feelings I had for him were friendship—at least that was what I was allowing them to be. Maybe a little bit of an obsessive attachment, but what was I supposed to feel when my body and mind allowed me to get close to so few people. Being with Daniel felt like being with an old friend. The closest thing I had to compare it to was how I felt with Ian, but that didn’t make sense because even when I thought the way my heart beat for Ian was love, my body never heated for him the way it does for Daniel.

But that was fine. No big deal. As Alex had so eloquently pointed out, Daniel was hot—really hot. But it didn’t matter because lots of guys were hot, few had the ability to put me at ease. Even fewer who wanted to help me.

So, curling onto my side last night, I placed Daniel in the friend box. Maybe a clear friend box, so I could continue to appreciate how hot he was.

Even with him firmly placed in a friend box, which included trust, I questioned what I was doing outside of an old building that’d been converted to a gym. I scanned the area residing on the edge of downtown. Despite the run-down look, the location was one of the richest areas in Cincinnati.

When I opened the door, I realized this wasn’t a regular gym with treadmills and Stairmasters. The area was open with barbells along one wall, next to stacks and stacks of weights. On the other side stood a large structure creating rows of pull-up bars. A group of men and women lifted weights in the back. Some of the women were even lifting more than the men, and maybe that made me stand a little taller. Woman solidarity and all that.

“Hey, you made it.”

Daniel walked out from an office, and like my eyes had a mind of their own, they scanned his body. Some of the men working out were shirtless and glistening with sweat, and it didn’t affect me as much as Daniel standing before me in a fitted black T-shirt and gray sweatpants—the lingerie of menswear.

My cheeks flamed when I noticed a bulge, and I quickly shifted my eyes to the people in the back, praying and hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Ye—” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, trying again. “Yeah. What is this place? I’ve never been to a gym like this.”

His biceps strained the sleeves of his shirt when he rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s a CrossFit gym. They also do yoga and self-defense classes in the back room. I know the owner and asked if I could borrow it for an afternoon.”

“Okaaaay.” I dragged the word out slowly, unsure of what to expect. Were we taking a class together?