Chapter 38: Chapter 37. Keep On Smirking

CLAIRE

“No!” I shouted, jumping up and moving in front of him. “Your arms need to be spread out like this.”

I took his hands and positioned them—one shielding his face, the other his stomach.

“If you only protect your face, your stomach is an easy target,” I explained, holding his gaze as he nodded in understanding.

I released his wrist and hopped back onto the table, watching as Blake resumed his assault on the punching bag.

After our kiss yesterday, he’d taken me to Nancy’s when I admitted I wasn’t ready to go home. He’d given me a puzzled look, but he didn’t question it. He just dropped me off at Nancy’s.

As I’d expected, Nancy had given me an earful about the whole night. I didn’t tell her the details, just that I’d had a major blowout with my parents. She didn’t push for more, knowing I wouldn’t spill.

I woke up early to a text from Blake, asking if we could meet at the gym.

Half an hour later, I was there, dressed in a purple sports bra, black gym shorts, purple converse, and carrying my gym bag. I knew I was going to get a workout in, one way or another.

I was taken aback when Blake showed up in a tight black tee, blue shorts, and black boxing gloves, asking if I could teach him some moves.

After a lot of pleading on his part, I finally agreed. So here we were, an hour later, with Blake pounding away at the red bag and me shouting instructions.

“Right.” He ducked to the right, but kept punching.

“Punch left, then duck right,” I called out, and he paused to look at me, confusion creasing his brow. “What?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I punch left and duck left?” he asked. I rolled my eyes. Men! They never just listen! I hopped off the table and walked over to him, taking hold of his arms.

“Swing left, at me,” I instructed, locking eyes with Blake. He looked worried, but I silenced him.

“Blake, I’ve been hurt way worse. And besides, you’re barely a beginner. I’m the best fighter here for a reason, you know,” I said, letting a bit of cockiness creep into my voice to get under his skin.

I knew men hated having their egos bruised. It’s what makes them so vulnerable and easy to beat. Never get too cocky, because karma’s a real bitch! I’ve learned that the hard way.

With a flash of anger in his dark grey eyes, he swung left and I quickly ducked right, landing a sharp jab to his thigh. He hissed in pain, dropping to the ground and clutching his thigh as the pain radiated through him.

“Rule number six: Never stop to check your wounds. It just makes you more vulnerable,” I told him.

I grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, our heavy breaths mingling as our lips hovered just a hair’s breadth apart.

“And rule number eleven,” I whispered. “Never show off. It just inflates your ego, distracts you, and leaves you open to a knockout.”

I grinned at his defeated expression. “But don’t worry.” I leaned in close, my breath tickling his skin and causing goosebumps to rise on his neck. “You’re not the only one.”

I pulled back, pleased with the effect I’d had on him. “When you punch a certain way, like left, it’s instinctive to swing right.

“That’s why you need to be quick and duck right to avoid their counterattack. As you duck, you’ll have an easy shot at their legs or stomach if they’re not guarding it.”

“For instance, if I were to swing left at you, your instinct would be to swing right. I’d have to be quick to dodge your attack. Understand?” I explained, pacing as I spoke.

His eyes were wide with wonder and astonishment as he looked at me. “How do you know all of this?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve been fascinated by how the body works since I was a kid. Boxing just came naturally to me, and I found it was a great way to study physiology, to learn how the body functions.

“What makes people happy, what their instincts are, why things happen, like depression and all that,” I told him honestly, a brief memory from two years ago flashing through my mind. But I quickly pushed it away.

No time to dwell on the past right now.

Blake nodded. “Cool. I didn’t know that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, no one did,” I muttered.

“What?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Nothing. Let’s get back to it. You want to learn more moves, right?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

Blake shrugged. “I don’t really see how this is helping. I mean, all I’m doing is punching a bag,” he grumbled.

I laughed, then moved to stand in front of him. I had a feeling I might regret this, but I’d been through worse.

“Since I basically kicked your ass earlier and bruised your ego, I want you to punch me, as hard as you can in my stomach,” I told him firmly. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I knew he didn’t want to, I knew he was the kind of guy who would never hit a girl, but he needed to. I wanted him to.

I needed to gauge his strength, to see where we needed to focus our training. But first, he was going to have to try and hit me.

With a deep sigh, he finally raised his right arm and swung. Quick as lightning, I dodged to the left, but his left arm came around and hit me, right in the upper stomach.

I swallowed hard, biting my lip as the pain quickly faded and I was okay again. It’d hurt later, but I’d be fine.

“Shit,” Blake cursed, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you need some—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I’m fine, Blake,” Then, I grinned. “See, I told you it would help,” I said, a hint of cockiness in my voice.

Blake gave me a playful squint. “Don’t get too sure of yourself, Miss White Wolf. Last time I did that, I ended up flat on my ass,” he warned, his tone light.

I just shrugged. “I’m the Great White Wolf. She doesn’t scare me.” I dismissed the idea with a grin.

Blake let out a chuckle, but his amusement faded quickly. “You know, I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he admitted, his eyes filled with unease as he looked away.

My physiology classes had taught me a lot about reading people. How to understand their emotions, predict their actions, all based on their body language.

Right now, Blake’s rigid stance, his cautious gaze, and the way he was chewing on his lower lip all told me he was nervous about the question he wanted to ask.

I stood there, arms folded, one eyebrow arched. “And that would be?” I prompted, eager for him to just spit it out.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, then met my gaze. His nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced by a determined look. He took a deep breath, then asked, “Are you free in two days?”

I raised an eyebrow, curious about why he wanted to know. But I knew I didn’t have any plans. Today was the twelfth. In two days, it would be… “Valentine’s Day,” I murmured to myself.

“Yes, Claire. I want to take you out on Valentine’s Day,” Blake confirmed, his voice filled with resolve. From his tone, I knew he was prepared to take me out, whether I agreed or not. Either way, I was going.

I tilted my head and shot him a challenging look. “And if I don’t want to go?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You’re coming with me, even if I have to drag you out of bed in your pajamas,” he said nonchalantly, landing a punch on the bag.

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “You’re lucky I like you,” I grumbled, noticing his smug smirk.

“Keep smirking, buddy. I’ll have you on the ground in no time.” I glared at his back.