A burst of panic shot through my veins. If nimble, agile Edan was sluggish, then what was I?
“We’re splitting up today to work on different things,” Julian said. “Laila, Hunter, Priya, and Zoe—you guys go work with Grayson on blades. Madison, Noah, Patrick, and Dani—you four go do drills with the Canadian teams in the big gym. Gage and Archer, you guys stay here with me and Dorsey. I want to work out with the bags. Edan and Clara, sparring room.”
I bit back a moan. This was my third time being paired with Edan. Honestly, I wanted to be paired with someone slower. The guy just darted away from every punch I threw and then gave me a smug look. It was incredibly annoying.
Julian clapped his hands. “All right, let’s go, guys. Grayson is picking which teams to send to the UK soon, and I’d like for us to be on that list.”
The team began filing out of the room, and Julian jogged to me, his fingers brushing against my arm briefly. He always touched me when we were close, just barely. It sent shivers up my spine every time.
“This is your last day sparring with Edan,” he said. “You’re going to work with Laila starting tomorrow. I think she’ll help you improve.”
I swallowed a surge of panic at the word improve. I knew I was one of the worst on the team—Dorsey and I seemed to be competing for that spot, actually. And it certainly didn’t help that I looked like a graceless idiot when paired with Edan. Yesterday I’d thrown a punch, missed him by at least six inches, and then fallen flat on my face. It was so embarrassing that even Edan took pity on me and wiped the smug expression from his face for a few minutes.
“OK. I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize.” He put a hand on my arm and took a step closer to me. Warmth spread across my skin from his touch. “I know Edan is . . . challenging.” His eyes drifted to the door, where Edan was on his way out.
“I guess it could be worse,” I said. “I could be getting my ass kicked. He just avoids everything. He’s like a fox.”
Julian’s face scrunched up in obvious distaste. I hadn’t figured out how he and Edan knew each other in New York, but it didn’t seem like their relationship was particularly friendly. They barely spoke to each other. Clearly it was only Grayson and Edan who had been friends.
Julian slowly let go of my arm, letting his fingers brush my skin as he stepped back. “Just one more day with Edan. He’s fast, at least. That’s good practice for you.” His lips curved into a smile, and I tried not to stare at them. I failed. He noticed. Heat rose up my cheeks.
I attempted a smile before turning away. Madison passed by me, one eyebrow raised. I’d never met someone who could convey so much hostility with just an eyebrow.
I quickly walked out of the gym and headed toward the stairs. The sounds of training were all around me—grunts from the room to my left, where the Senegalese teams were sparring, the Argentinian teams shouting orders outside the building, and I caught a few words in Spanish from one of the Spanish-speaking American teams leaving the cafeteria. The teams from Mexico followed them out. Luis, of Mexican team three, waved when he spotted me. He’d been friendly since he learned my mom was from Mexico. I waved back and opened the stairwell door.
I’d mostly avoided the Spanish-speaking American teams. And the Mexican teams. It was awkward to explain that, yes, I was Latina and my mom was from Mexico, but no, I didn’t speak Spanish. I could understand a little if you spoke really slowly, which was just embarrassing. It made me feel like I didn’t actually belong with them, like I wasn’t supposed to claim that part of my identity if I didn’t speak the language.
I climbed the stairs and walked into the sparring room to find Edan waiting, standing on the mat with two sets of gloves at his feet. He pushed a hand through his dark hair, giving me a glimpse of the tattoo on his left inner forearm—a tree. It was huge, taking up nearly the whole space from his wrist to his elbow, a mess of a twisted limbs and roots.
I thought that maybe it was rude to stare at someone’s tattoos, so I’d only gotten brief glimpses of Edan’s. I couldn’t tell what was poking out from his right shirtsleeve, but I could read the words way leads on to way looping around his forearm. No idea what that meant.
He had a lot of tattoos for someone who was only eighteen. I suspected he must have started before he was legally allowed to get them. He didn’t seem like much of a rule follower.
“Thanks,” I said as he handed me a set of gloves. I stuck my hand inside one and tightened the strap around my wrist. “Can you try to block a few instead of just running away this time? And return some punches? I don’t care if you hit me hard.”
He scrunched up his face.
“What does that mean? Is that a no?”
“I just don’t think that’s helpful. You need to speed up, so you should keep trying to hit me. There’s no point in me hitting back.”
“You need to train too.”
“Eh, I’m fine on sparring.”
“I don’t need you to coddle me.”
“I’m not.” He rolled his eyes, causing a burst of annoyance in my chest. I got the impression he liked being partnered with me as much as I enjoyed being partnered with him.
“Julian said we’ll have new partners tomorrow,” I said. “So
