I stood near the garage wall, holding the pads and watching Tori bounce lightly on the balls of her feet. Her shoulders were loose and her jaw was set. She was wearingone of those tight sports bras and bright red kickboxing shorts made of some sort of shiny material. Satin, maybe?
Her hair was woven into two thick braids, and a faint bruise was spreading along her ribs, turning yellow at the edges. I didn’t mention it because I was aware this was normal for her, but I didn't like seeing her all bruised up.
She rolled her shoulders, exhaled slowly, and then nodded at me.
“Alright. Chest first. Don’t move.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. I value my ribs.”
Despite her petite stature, she was incredibly powerful. Tori snorted, and then she started moving. The first strike landed with a solid thud, rattling my arms. She flowed into the next one without hesitation.
Elbow. Hook. Knee.
Her style was undeniably aggressive, but she was never wild or reckless. Everything was precise and controlled.
I instinctively adjusted the pads, bracing my feet as I would on the field. Holding pads wasn’t really any different from absorbing contact — it was just morepersonal.
Tori slowed after a few reps, breathing harder now.
“Again,” she demanded.
I hesitated. “Tori, you’ve already done like—”
She shot me a pointed look, her eyes narrowingslightly. “Again, Kai.”
So I did what she asked. Tori was capable and experienced, I had to trust her to know her own limits. Halfway through the next combo, she clipped the pad at a strange angle, hissing as she shook out her hand.
I dropped the pad and stepped forward without thinking. “Hey—”
“I’m fine.” She tried to wave away my concern but didn't pull away when I gently took her wrist, my thumbs brushing over the tender spot. Her skin was warm, and tingles shot through my body from where our hands touched.
“Any particular reason why you’re pushing yourself?”
Tori shrugged, her eyes fixed somewhere past my shoulder. “Showcase is in three weeks.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Showcase?”
“Yeah.” After a moment's silence, she pursed her lips, clearly considering whether to let me in a bit more. “I don’t often get the chance to compete, but if I do, I want to do well … I want to fucking win.”
That, I understood. I’d suspected Tori was competitive, but I hadn’t realized we were so similar in that respect.
“You’re gonna smash it,” I said, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t even up for debate.
Tori looked at me then, her chin tilted up stubbornly, as if she’d expected me not to take her seriously. She studied me, and when she found nothing but genuine support, her guard dropped for just a second.
“Sometimes I’m scared I won’t. I’m not good at losing,” Tori admitted.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I did the only thing that felt right. Stepping back into position, I lifted the pads again.
“Then hit me. Let’s get you ready.”
Her mouth twitched. “You trying to coach me now?”
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Why not?”
Tori giggled and shook her head. This time, when she approached the pads, there was a lighter quality to her movement. She was still fierce and utterly focused, but I could clearly tell the difference when I studied her.
It looked like she was actually enjoying herself.
