“Makes sense,” I offer. “I’d kill to be able to pummel something when I’m hurting.” Letting him go, I move around him and make a fist, imagining what it would be like. To be able to channel that kind of power. In slow motion, I press it to the bag, forcing it to move a couple of inches back, then dropping my arm to my side. Feeling Jagger’s stare, I glance over at him and smile. “What?”
“Wanna learn?” he asks.
I frown. “Learn what?”
“How to throw a punch.”
With a light laugh, I say, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, why not? Besides, I could use the distraction.” He strides toward the closet and returns with a pair of boxing gloves. “First, we gotta protect these pretty hands.” He slips them on me, his fingers grazing my bare skin as he wraps the elastic band around my wrist to keep them in place. “There,” he says, eyeing his own handiwork with a glint of approval.
“You like this, huh?”
“It’s kind of hot.” With a smirk, he presses his hand to the small of my back, urges me to face the punching bag, and nudges my elbows with his hands. “Put your hands up.” I raise them into the air, and he shakes his head, positioning them closer to my face. “Like this.”
“Oh.”
“You want to protect yourself from your opponent. This helps block any punches they're going to throw.”
I nod again, keeping my hands closer to my face.
“Perfect. Now, you want to keep your muscles tight.” His hands find my waist, and I squeeze my abs on instinct. “There you go,” he murmurs. “A punch comes from the whole body, not just the fist.”
“Got it.”
“Now, I know you’re wearing gloves, but let’s say you aren’t. You want to curl your fingers into your palm, keeping your thumb tucked beneath your second knuckles. Like this.” Lifting his hand, Jagger shows me a proper fist. “If you tuck your thumb against your palm and wrap your fingers around it, you’ll break your thumb on contact. If you keep your thumb on the outside of your forefinger instead of tucking it beneath your knuckles, you’ll also hurt yourself,” he adds, showing me what he’s talking about by lifting his taped hand and demonstrating all three positions. “Understand?”
“Yup,” I answer.
“Good girl. Now, like I said, you’re wearing gloves, which helps your form, but since we’re starting with the basics, I figure we should probably run through it.”
“Got it.”
“Depending on the punch you want to throw, you’ll either do a jab, cross, or a hook. Understand?”
I blink. “You’re cute.”
With another sly smile, he says, “Okay, so a jab is a fast, non-power punch.” In a flash, he demonstrates the motion, and my eyes widen. “You throw it with your lead hand, so whatever foot is forward determines your jab hand. Left foot forward? Left-hand jabs. Right foot forward?” He waits.
“Right-hand jabs,” I answer.
“Good girl.” He smiles. “Your cross is a more powerful punch. You throw it with your rear hand, and you use your body’s rotation for maximum force. Like this.” He steps in front of the punching bag with his left foot forward. With a quick jab of his left hand, he cocks his right arm back and twists his hips, thrusting his fist forward and into the punching bag with such force it makes me flinch back.
Whoa.
Satisfied, he looks at me. “See? Now, no matter the punch, you want to keep your core engaged, your arms up, and your balance centered. If you don’t keep yourself stabilized, you’ll fall on your ass and wind up in trouble. Let’s see what you can do.”
He steps aside so I have the punching bag to myself.
Not going to lie, it’s a little intimidating. Feeling Jagger’s stare as he waits for me to throw a punch. I’m probably going to look like an idiot, but at least he’s back. The real him. Instead of lost to his demons. The realization causes a sense of peace to fall over me, and I take a deep breath, remembering his instructions.
Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I shift back, then swing my arm forward, punching the heavy bag before bringing my wrist to my chest. “Okay,ouch.”
He laughs. “Sorry. I probably should’ve mentioned you want to keep your wrist in line with your forearm. If you bend, all the force you built by using your whole body goes into the joint instead of the opponent. My bad.”
Snickering, I shake out my hand. “Gee, thanks, Coach.”
“Try it one more time.” He steps back, giving me plenty of room to make a disgrace of myself, but I’m too stubborn to back down now. Repeating the process, I throw another punch, making sure to keep my wrist straight and my core tight. As soon as the hit lands, the bag sways a bit more, and I turn to Jagger, practically preening. “Like that?”
