“So who do I have to watch out for?”
“A swarmer. They’ll get right up in your face and hit you with flurries of punches—they’ll overwhelm you. A swarmer’ll be beaten by a brawler, like me.”
“And who doyouhave to watch out for?”
“You.”
I blinked at him.
“Out-boxers can beat brawlers. I’m only dangerous if I can get in close—like this.” He stepped right up close, so close that I had to look up to look into his eyes. He took my hand in both of his and used it tap himself on the jaw, pushing himself back. “So what you need to do is keep me at arm’s length. Where I can’t hurt you.” He was still holding my wrist, his fingers hot on my skin. I felt his hand tighten.
“Understand?” he asked, his voice strained.
I nodded.
He let out a long, slow breath and we went back to it.
And I focused on keeping him at a distance.
I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the huge, high-protein boxer’s breakfasts. But after a week, I could shovel down my steak and eggs and be hungry for chicken and vegetables a few hours later. My weight went up, but the mirror showed I was leaner. The fat was burning off and being replaced by muscle.
Each morning, Aedan would have me shadow box so that I could see how I looked to someone else. At first, it was comical: my tiny, weak shadow throwing punches while his muscular bulk stood watching next to it. But after a few weeks, I began to see changes. I moved faster. I was leaner...meaner.
It still didn’t feel right, though—hitting something. It didn’t feel natural, in the way I suspected it felt natural to Aedan. Maybe it comes naturally to men.
During one of the long bag sessions—I don’t know how many punches I’d thrown, but it felt likeinfinity plus three—I mumbled something about this to Aedan. Who shook his head.
“You think you’re weak because you’re a woman,” he told me. “You’re not.”
“Weare.Physically, we are.”
“Not mentally, though, and that’s what it’s all about.” He looked at me seriously. “What you did, volunteering to take Alec’s place...youarestrong, Sylvie. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I gave him a look, my cheeks flushing, and hit the bag again.
He grabbed my elbows and held my arms back so I couldn’t punch again. “Say it with me,” he ordered. “I am strong.”
“I am strong,” I mumbled, embarrassed.
“Like you mean it.”
I twisted around to look at him. I was all ready to say something snarky but something in his expression stopped me. I’d never seen him looking so solemn, so….
Jesus, he almost lookedimpressedwith me.
I looked back at the bag. “I am strong,” I said. It didn’t sound so stupid, this time.
“Again.”
“I am strong.”
He let my arms go and I hit the bag as hard as I could.
Keeping my mind on the training wasn’t easy with Aedan around. I knew he was trying to keep things professional and I was, too. But that didn’t stop things happening—little moments that would stay with me the rest of the day. Like he’d pass me the water bottle to drink out of and it would still be warm from his touch. Or he’d really lay into the punch bag to show me a technique and emerge all sweaty and perfect, his shoulders gleaming, and I’d have to drag my eyes off of him.
The training was working—I could feel it. But every day, the attraction between us was growing tighter, pulling us together. Little things. Like we’d walk to the diner, and we’d walk closer together. Closer than trainer and pupil should walk. I told myself that it was just because we were friends. Or we’d share a joke, despite—or maybe because—of how serious things were. We’d blow off steam by doing something stupid, like emptying a water bottle over the other one’s head and...I found myself laughing more easily and more genuinely than I ever had. Andhewas definitely smiling more...but each time, he’d catch himself and get serious again, pushing me away.
Once, on a really scorching day, the air conditioning in the gym went on the fritz and the place became unbearable. Aedan took me out into the disused lot behind the building and had me hit pads in the open air, with the sun beating down on us. After a half hour, he stripped off his tank top and I saw him topless for the first time. Jesus. I’d known he was in good shape, but he wasripped.His pecs looked like they were carved from stone. His abs had deliciously hard ridges on them that I immediately wanted to run my fingers over and there was a centerline running all the way up, from just where I’d kiss the base of his neck, to just where I’d finish kissing his top half, before I proceeded down below….
