His eyes flinch. He studies me through slits. “Have you had any fight training before? For the roles you’ve played.”
I plop onto my rear and lie back, keeping my knees bent and feet on the floor. The whole time I’m mentally scrolling through my previous acting jobs. Now that I think about it, the characters I play usually end up dying.
Huh. That doesn’t bode well for fighting Karson in self-defense.
Instead of confessing my lack of martial arts experience, I say, “You’re about to find out.”
He grins. The kind of grin that tells me he’s up for, and might possibly enjoy, such a challenge. It makes me want to punch him for real.
The mat is cushy and cool underneath my spine, but when Karson steps one leg over me and kneels down to pin my waist against the floor, he is the opposite. Solid muscle and heat. This could be a very scary position were I being attacked by someone I didn’t trust. Someone who didn’t smell warm and spicy like cinnamon.
He examines me from above, the creases in his forehead deepening as if he’s concerned. Maybe he senses my apprehension and figures out I’ve never done this before. Maybe he’s more sensitive than he wants to admit. Maybe he does care after all.
“Bring your hands to guard.” He pulls his arms up in demonstration. His blue eyes watch me from over his fists. “You missed this part earlier.”
If I’d been on time, I wouldn’t have ended up as partners with him. Does he still think I plan stuff like this?
I mimic his guard position to block myself from his attack. “Sorry I’m late.”
He nods, either in acceptance of my apology or approval of my form. Or maybe just acknowledgment. “Your roommates said you were right behind them.”
“I was. I got … lost.”
His lips press together, and I realize he’s holding back from saying something that would have me comparing him to a witch doctor again. I hear his words in my mind anyway.Of course you did.
I got offended when he said that about my heels last week. Only this time I know he’s right. This is really why I drive him crazy. What makes me a good writer would make me a really bad cop. A really bad student. And a really bad potential girlfriend.
My guard drops. I deserve that blow.
“Keep your hands up,” he advises. Because once again he sees my mistake and knows I can do better. “Now use your forearms to knock away my punches.”
In slow motion, his right fist comes toward my face.
I hunch and cover my head with my arms.
His fist connects lightly and then pulls back. He may not like me, but he’s a good teacher. “Don’t hide. Fight back. Use my momentum against me.”
I try to process what he’s telling me to do. But rather than absorb the message, I let myself get distracted by it. Mostly by the wordmomentum. Because Momentum would be a good superhero name if it hasn’t already been used. I want to call Zach Price and suggest it for his television show.
“Gemma, focus.”
Oops. Though I like to think my writer brain is a strength, sometimes it can be a weakness. Kind of like Karson’s momentum. I get it now.
He comes at me with a left cross. I need to keep his punch going. Keep it carrying him past me.
I use my forearm, not to block his fist, but to slide by his fist and guide the punch to the ground. With the force of his weight shifting to my left side, I push through my right foot, popping my hips up and knocking Karson sideways the way I’d seen Wolfman do.
Then I’m rolling toward him, pressing my right palm against his chest to throw him all the way onto his back. I don’t stop there. I flip upright onto my knees, pretending to punch him the way he had done to me.
To keep him from continuing the flip so that he’s over me again, I tuck my toes into the ground and rock backward to shift my weight onto my heels. Then I’m standing. Throwing one last fake punch, I finish with Wolfman’s line. “Hiya!”
Karson palms my fist the way I’d palmed it earlier when trying to intimidate him. He’s on his back, staring up at me with eyes so piercing they could be considered a weapon. All the while, I’m leaning over him, breathing like I just woke from a nightmare.
Kai slow claps from where Charlie has flipped him onto his back.
“Wow, Gemma.” Though Charlie flipped Kai, he’s still on his knees rather than having leapt to his feet. It’s rare that anyone goes harder than Charlie.
Kai, meanwhile, looks relaxed enough to take a nap. He nods at my stance. “I should have warned Karson you go to boot camp with me.”
