Touch Her And Bleed

I took a deep breath, then reached for the handle of a new gym I’d found online. I never worked out, so suddenly being in an unfamiliar place made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I crept inside, instantly being hit with the smell of sweat, leather, and bleach.

I was never allowed to go anywhere without my ex-boyfriend, and it was heartbreaking that he made me so anxious.

I flinched when the door clicked shut behind me.

“You lost?” a booming voice asked from behind a desk. I cleared my throat. He was older, almost reminding me of someone’s uncle. He had a grey wiry beard almost touching his chest. He was wearing a purple gym shirt that contrasted with his tan skin.

I looked down at the floor. “Uh, no, actually—” My gaze snapped upward when he spoke over me.

“Women’s yoga is the door to the right.”

I gulped back embarrassment. I didn’t know how to act in public anymore, and that really frustrated me considering I had finally taken my life back. Mara said I needed to get out of the house. She was the one who suggested I learn how to fight if I was going to be this nervous about every encounter I had.

I breathed in once, let it out, and marched up to the desk he was sitting behind. “Actually, I wanted to sign up.” My voice came out choppier than I wanted it to, but I was still proud of myself for stepping in here in the first place.

The guy let out a loud noise, somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “Your scrawny ass? Right.”

I frowned and looked down at my shoes, hoping to just dissipate into a puddle on the floor.

I jumped when a sharp voice tore my eyes away from the floor. “Enough, Eddie.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat, almost struggling to breathe.

His dark hair was disheveled and slick with sweat, almost looking black. His bright emerald eyes glinted with something I couldn’t place.

He extended his arm smoothly, motioning for Eddie to take it away. The white towel hung loosely down his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to care or notice.

Eddie grunted and left his seat, taking the weights reluctantly.

I stared at him, confused, for a second.

He stared back, occupying every inch of Eddie’s chair like he owned it. It was almost like he expected something from me. Dripping with confidence, he didn’t break eye contact like it cost him nothing. It was beginning to make me sweat.

Fire suddenly rose from my neck, and I knew I was getting myself into some type of trouble. He oozed calm. His presence was all too familiar, and I suddenly didn’t know if I needed to change my pants because I was scared or attracted to him.

“Need anything?” He finally broke the silence, and I was grateful until his blunt words registered.

“Uh,” I cleared my throat, “I wanted to sign up.”

I wasn’t expecting him to take me seriously, just like Eddie. When he raised an eyebrow, my blank expression didn’t waver. He went through drawers under the desk and pulled out a clipboard with a couple pages tucked inside it.

“Here.” When he slammed it down in front of me, I almost jumped out of my skin. I frowned at him, shooting daggers. He just seemed half amused.

I flipped through the papers in front of me, reading them over carefully. I felt a presence studying me while I wrote my name at the top of the page. It was like a sixth sense I had. I convinced myself to steal a glance, trying not to move my head and give myself away.

Of course he was staring.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. He looked at me so intensely that my body started to vibrate. I almost wanted to puke with all the nerves building up inside me. I considered just bolting out the door. His stare raised goosebumps on my skin. I quickly shot back to my paper and held my hand up to cover my face.

Oh lord.

My palms were so sweaty I couldn’t hold my pen correctly. Refusing to look up, I turned to the questions on the paper instead. I filled out most of the questionnaire, feeling calmer and more relaxed now that I had something to do with my hands.

I scribbled the last answer. Before I could even look over my own answers, it was swiped from my hands. “Hey!” I blurted out before I could think about it.

The look he gave me made me choke on my next words. I sat stunned by the closeness and sharp green eyes staring back at me. It felt like he was quietly daring me to challenge him.

His eyes scanned the paper and settled on something intently. I felt like I was a rat in a science lab.

What could he be reading?

What if he judged me?

Crap, I shouldn’t have written anything.

“Self-defense, huh?” He raised a brow, noticing my twiddling fingers. I tried to stifle the action. I had always hated how easily I showed my nerves.

“Yeah, a common reason for women to join, I think,” I muttered, sounding less confident than I’d ever felt.

“Common for people who flinch at loud noises.” I sucked in a breath, not realizing he had heard me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re in luck.”

He turned, tossing the clipboard behind the counter with a clank. He leaned over and took some black boxing gloves out from under the table. He tossed them to me, and I fumbled the worn leather, almost dropping them. “You’ll be training with me.”

“Isn’t there a beginner class?” I tried to mask the horrified look on my face. Oh my god, I’m starting today!?

“I teach beginners.” I didn’t believe him. It looked like he was more advanced than anyone here, but I figured I would give him a chance and try it out. He motioned me to sit down on the bench, and I slowly did. I had to resist the urge to bite my nails, settling on bouncing my leg instead.

“First time?” he asked.

His mouth lifted slightly, almost smirking at me. I rushed to look away. “Yeah.” My voice betrayed me, weak and cracked.

He nodded, clearly amused by my state. “I could tell.” He confidently took a new hand wrap and unrolled it. I watched him as he knelt in front of me.

He held out the hand wrap, and I looked at it, then to him, then back to the wrap.

“Hands,” he said when my confusion didn’t fade. I reluctantly held them out. I let my eyes drift away from him, hoping the awkward feeling would subside. He wrapped my hand deliberately, crossing the blue wrap across my wrist and fingers. His hands felt rough against mine, covered in scars from what I could only assume was years of violence.

As he switched to doing my other hand, I noticed that his forearm was resting on my knee. I tensed up, growing clammy again. I tried to convince myself it was casual because if it didn’t bother him, I wasn’t going to let it bother me either. Even if it was the only thing going through my mind right now.

I looked up, meeting his scrutinizing eyes after he was done. The space between us became unbearable. I shot up and took a step away from him, wincing at how abrupt my movement was. Smooth.

I examined my hands, admiring how the wrap looked around my fingers. I beamed with excitement. He looked almost proud, grabbing boxing pads and putting them on his hands.

“I’m not punching you, am I?” Unfortunately, the pads had already proved me wrong.

“Hopefully not. The goal is to hit these.” He slapped them together once and held them up for me to punch.

“No tips and tricks for my first time?” I felt so awkward and out of place, my blood boiled. He was just waiting for me to embarrass myself, and with how overwhelmed I was, it was working.

“You got this,” he said matter-of-factly. I was starting to think this was a mistake, feeling eyes linger on me from every direction. I knew it was just the atmosphere of the gym, but I couldn’t help feeling exposed here.

I decided to concentrate on the punch instead, jabbing my fist out.

“Absolutely not.” He slid the pads off and dropped them to the ground carefully. He moved me in front of a mirror a few steps away from where we were training.

His breath traced the back of my neck, making the rest of my body icy. He shifted my hips into a staggered stance, making my throat clamp up from the unfamiliar touch. It came and went as quickly as I wished my anxiety would.

He positioned me exactly how he wanted and said, “This will be your stance every time.”

“I told you I needed tips and tricks.”

“Obviously. Have you ever fought before?”

“I used to fight with my brother all the time.” I shrugged.

“Now you know your stance,” he continued. “Land a punch.” He took up his own stance beside me. He showed me how to extend my arm and turn my wrist at the end. I was so focused on his velvety voice, everything else seemed to melt away. He picked up the pads again and held them out to me. “Now, again.”

I hit the pad with very little force. He didn’t even wobble backward. My confidence faltered, and he seemed to pick up on it. I couldn’t believe that I was actually doing this, let alone standing in this gym. The loud noises started to creep up on me again until his voice snapped me out of it. “Again.”

I glared at him but hit the pads faster like he wanted.

“Elbows too far out.”

“Feet too wide.”

“Use both hands.”

His constant criticism was getting on my nerves. Every correction felt like proof that I was failing. A permanent reminder of why I should just quit right then and there.

I was huffing at this point, frustration growing in my chest with every critique he gave me. I kept telling myself I couldn’t do this, doubting myself further each time.

“Stance.”

“Elbows.”

“Now try and move your feet.”

I’d had enough of his barking and suddenly let out a low growl, punching with pure rage and zero coordination. He wanted me to move my feet? Fine. I moved forward, forcing him to take steps away. I was going to show him just how hard I could punch.

I hadn’t realized my eyes had squeezed shut, and I was standing there, repeatedly punching his pads as hard as I could before I even knew his name.

He was hunched with his elbows tight to his chest, pads hiding his face. I admired how his body seemed so in control. Mine wasn’t, and the realization snapped me out of my trance.

I shot backward. My hands cupped my mouth instinctively.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted through my fingers. There was a long pause as he straightened out and shook out his shoulders, suddenly seeming more alive.

“There she is.” He bounced lightly on his feet. I hated the way his voice pulled a reaction from deep in my stomach. I frowned, refusing to name the feeling. Exhausted, I trudged over to the bench after sliding the gloves off and shook my hands out. I felt satisfied with myself for finally following through with this.

I grabbed my water and started to chug it. My wrists ached from the practice, and I realized now why he wrapped them so far up my wrists. Here I was thinking I was wasting my time, but I ended up feeling like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I couldn’t believe someone was actually taking me seriously.

“Time’s up.” His voice made me almost spit my water all over me. I screwed the lid back on and caught his gaze. He was looking at me with such pride in his eyes. I hated that he thought my outburst was a moment to boast over.

I took my wraps off, still shaking from the adrenaline. I grabbed my bag, shoved my water bottle in there, and hooked it over my shoulder.

“See you tomorrow.” He said it like a fact.

“What makes you think I’ll come back?” I started walking backward so I could give him my shit-eating grin.

“To finish the job.” He winked.

I rolled my eyes at him, flinging the door open with a new confident force.