completely unable to bend my arms or legs.
Most of the women have cycled through with various levels of enthusiasm. The bouncy ones are
the worst, coming at me with gleeful aggression. It’s like they’ve waited their whole lives for this
moment and don’t want to waste it, aiming the biggest, most powerful kick they can muster at my junk.
How the hell does Colt do this?
As Nick and I are being repeatedly attacked, with knees and elbows and shins, Becca circulates
through the room, softly encouraging — I didn’t know her voice could be that soft — or cheering for
her students, depending on what they need.
And Maya? She’s somehow avoided coming anywhere near us. She’s punched the bag half-
heartedly, but whenever it’s time to line up, she disappears. Somehow, Becca hasn’t noticed, or if she
has, she’s letting it slide, and it’s bullshit. These women are here for a reason, so why the fuck won’t
she just make Maya come over and knee me in the balls? I mean, is it really that hard?
Apparently, it is. Maya’s one of the ones getting soft Becca, but I think that’s a mistake. Maya’s
not soft…not really. She has no problem standing up for herself at work, and I don’t see any reason
why she couldn’t do it here, either. Finally, after she sneaks away from another line-up, I call her out.
“Maya Miller. Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
She freezes, hand on the handle of the glass door.
“Ah…just needed to use the washroom. When you gotta go, you gotta go,” she says, breaking into
some sort of pee-pee dance. No way, that cuteness is getting her out of this. Becca clues in and moves
to Maya at the door, talking to her softly. Then she takes her hand, pulling her back into the room.
Maya keeps her grip on the door until the very last second, her body stretched into a starfish. Finally
losing her grip, she slams into Becca’s back with a grunt. Becca barely acknowledges the hit, which
is impressive since Maya’s not a small woman. But neither is Becca.
Apparently, my brothers and I have a type. Wait. No. Not me, because I am not getting involved.
She is not my type at all. Too lush, too earthy. Too much to hold. But Jesus, is it ever a seductive
package, pee-pee dance and all.
I need my head examined.
Becca pulls her to a stop in front of me. Then moves to stand behind her and grip her shoulders.
“What are you afraid of, Maya?”
“What? Nothing, never mind. I kick butt all the time. Woo.” She rolls her eyes at herself and then
