“Step two,” I said, adjusting one of my braids before counting off on my fingers. “Timing. Balance. Not being an idiot.”
I beckoned the next guy forward, letting the first recover. He stepped up, a little more cautious than his predecessor, but hesitated for a second too long. I sidestepped, grabbed his arm and twisted it just enough to unbalance him. A few muttered grumbles of disbelief followed.
The big guy stumbled sideways, his hands flailing, and nearly took out a mat bag.
I arched an eyebrow. “Gravity works faster than you, apparently. Heads up next time.”
After getting everyone to work in small groups and giving each player a chance to work through the drill, I called them over to me once more.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Kai leaning slightly forward, watching. His jaw was tight and his eyes were narrowed, betraying a mixture of fascination and something else I couldn’t quite place.
I turned back to the group, motioning them closer.
“Pair up. Wrist-control drills.” I gripped a taller player’s wrists, twisting and redirecting him just enough to make him stumble. “Think of this like the line of scrimmage. Control the hands, control the player, and the play’s yours.”
They tried to mimic me. Most fell awkwardly, some laughed, and a few cursed. I moved between them; correcting grips, shifting weight, and every so often letting one of them overcommit, sending them sprawling.
The gym echoed with groans and laughter.
“Your turn, Australia,” someone called, nudging Kai forward with a grin.
So that's where his accent was from!
He blinked, glancing at me. “You serious?”
Raising an eyebrow, I acknowledged him for the first time. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Not scared.” He stepped onto the mat with his shoulders squared. “Just don't want to embarrass my neighbors.”
I struggled to contain a smile when he winked at me. “We’ll see about that.”
He was taller and heavier than most guys I trained with — solid muscle in motion. My guard went up instinctively as his dark, steady eyes fixed on me.
I wasnothere to be a showpiece. But the second he reached for me, the air shifted. Ducking low, I spun under his arm and swept his leg. He hit the mat with a thud, the breath audibly rushing out of him.
Rather than displaying the embarrassment his teammates had shown, he let out an easy, unbothered, breathless laugh. Hearing that sound made something hit low in my stomach, causing my focus to waver. I reminded myself to stay professional and keep him at arm’s length.
Kai scrambled back up faster than most, his eyes alight with something I couldn’t name.
“Holy shit! I think I’m in love,” he panted. “You’redangerous.”
“And you’re slow,” I shot back, though it came out softer than I intended.
We circled each other with our hands up, and the sparring match began. It was supposed to be a demonstration, but there was too much awareness and heat in our proximity. Each step, each pivot, each slight contact sent electricity skimming across my nerves.
My brain kept barking orders at me to maintain distance and control the center but my chest betrayed me with a different kind of pulse.
Kai’s grin widened as he lunged again. The mat became a game neither of us wanted to lose; each move was loaded with both challenge and … something else.
This time, Kai's lunge was more deliberate; he was trying to test my reactions rather than simply following the moves. I blocked, pivoted and jabbed at his shoulder, just enough to make him shift his weight.
He grinned wildly, as though he hadn’t expected someone to push back like this.
“Not bad.” I circled him. “Keep your balance. Don’t just throw your weight around.”
He stepped in closer, invading my personal space, and his arm brushed against mine. My stomach twisted, but not with fear. It was the awareness of how different this felt.
Too close, too fast, too charged. I ducked low, spun under his arm, and swept his leg again.
