“Good. Now, right jab, left cross.”
The warmup with stretching takes about fifteen minutes. Honestly, it’s a good workout on its own. Sweat has already started to build up around my hairline. I make sure to warm up all body parts, especially the legs, since today’s workout is really all about the lower body.
At five minutes left of class, I run through some stretches that focus on all the leg muscles we used kicking the bag, doing squats, and lots and lots of knee lifts. When it’s all said and done, everyone is sweaty and exhausted.
My work is done.
“Wow,” Deena says, looking like a soggy mess. “You’re amazing.”
Smiling, I give her ass a swat. “You did well this morning. You should come every—”
“No.” She shakes her head as she wipes her face with her pink towel. “No way. Too early.” Winking, she adds, “I’m glad I got to experience your class, though. Maybe they’ll promote you to the afternoon session. If they do, I’ll be there.”
Shutting down the sound system, I search the area for my gloves and water bottle.
“Got it,” Lucky says, holding up my bright blue bottle. Reaching for it, I place my hand on the bottle, but his doesn’t budge, which means we’re touching. “You”—he looks down at me as he steps closer—“are the best fucking instructor I’ve ever had.”
No way. “No.” I shake my head. I feel his finger touch my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“I’m not just saying that shit, Becklyn. Everybody’s talking about how good your class is. That’s you, babe. They’re going to need to put you in the larger space soon.”
I look around the room and frown. “It is pretty tight.”
“They’re going to need to invest in more bags too.”
“Oh.” I nod because I’m not sure what to say.
He taps my chin once, then his hand disappears. “Best fucking class, honey. Hands down.”
Honey? Babe?
I wish he wouldn’t use those terms, but if I say anything, he’ll stop, and the alternative is far worse than that, because even if Lucky’s terms of endearment are meant as merely friendly or brotherly, I’ll take them.
Lucky takes my bag and throws it over his shoulder. The same as he does every morning. “I’m comin’ back.”
“Is that a threat?” I giggle.
“It’s a promise.”
I roll my eyes, but inwardly, I’m excited. I’m no longer going to worry about what Lucky thinks about my class, because he likes it. And, honestly, I know I’m pretty good. I’ve gotten a lot better, too, ever since I started creating my own workouts. Kelsey’s book helped me get a rhythm, but I’ve put my own twist on things in an attempt to make it more fun. Plus, I do my best to inspire rather than berate. Positive reinforcement always works on me, so why not do it here?
As we leave the building, I look around for Deena. “She’s already in the car. Gave her my keys.”
“Right. She’s tired.”
“We all are. You’re like the Tasmanian Devil in there.”
I shrug because I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.
I’m taking a drink of my water when he asks, “You wanna come over for dinner tonight? I’ll make chicken piccata.”
I nearly choke at his words. “Me?”
“Who else is here?” he chuckles.
I’m not sure how to answer him. I’d love to say yes, but, “I’ve, um, got something going on tonight.”
“School stuff?” he asks, reaching for the passenger door handle.
