“Here.” I held out his mask and he took it with a sad sort of smile.
“Thanks...you should go. You shouldn’t be seen talking to me.”
“There’s no one around,” I said gently.
“Not the point,” he murmured, not meeting my gaze. His copper hair was starting to grow back in the strip I’d shaved down the middle of his head and my heart dipped at the memory.
“This won’t last forever,” I breathed, unsure why I suddenly felt the need to comfort him. But he looked so alone and I knew exactly how that felt.
“I suppose not,” he said in a tight voice, the knot coming free in his laces at last.
Mila cleared her throat. “You coming, Tatum?”
“Yeah,” I said, saying goodbye to Bait and moving to join Mila as she walked down the path. I glanced back over my shoulder as he put his mask back on, shouldered his bag and started walking down the hill with his head hanging low. It made me think about the warning Mila had given me all those weeks ago when I’d first joined this school. Play to their rules, keep out of their hair and you’ll have a sweet life at Everlake.
I’d said hell to the Night Keepers’ rules, royally fucking ruffled up their perfectly styled hair and now I was facing the not-so-sweet life she’d predicted. And so was Bait. We were just two rebels crushed beneath the same heels, and I guessed I had to count my lucky stars that I wasn’t as broken as him.
***
I was kinda dreading my kickboxing session with Monroe. And as I strode along the path in the direction of the gym at ten to seven, I knew I was dragging my heels. Not only did I have an hour of one-on-one time booked with him while getting hot and sweaty, it was also his night to have me stay over at his place. Awkward city, here I come.
I pushed through the door into the gym, drifting towards the boxing room as I tried to mentally prepare myself for this. Was he just going to be a tight-lipped, grumpy asshole all evening? Was I going to have to put up with his teacher bullshit just because he couldn’t own up to what had happened and go back to treating me like a friend? That was what was most important. I could ignore the rest of my feelings. Right? Right??
I shoved the door open, striding in with my chin held high and dumping my sleepover bag by the door. As uncomfortable as it was, it was time to fix shit between us. If he was too ashamed to deal with it, then I’d just have to make him face his demons. Because I missed my knight in shining armour. And I wanted him back.
“Hey,” I said brightly, hoping to break the ice, but he just gave me a cold, dead glare from across the room. His black T-shirt clung to his heavenly frame and I tried to stop my eyes from doing a sweep over his bulging arms and broad chest before my gaze settled on his face -tried and failed obviously.
“Fifty press ups, thirty burpies, high knees for one minute. Go.” His eyes darkened and I clenched my jaw, moving onto the mats and falling into the warmup routine he’d set without a word. I would play by his rules today, be the best student he’d ever worked with until he just had to praise me. And hug me. Maybe kiss me again…no dammit!
I was panting by the time I was done and Monroe circled his finger through the air. “Again.”
Motherfucker.
I dropped down, my arms burning as I forced out another fifty press ups and started on my least favourite exercise ever. The burpy. Who even invented this shit? They need to be hung, drawn and quartered. No trial, straight up put to death.
I finished my second round, my heart racing as I jogged over to drink from the water fountain.
“Did I say you could rest?” Monroe barked. “Again!”
“Oh come on-” I started, turning to face him and I swear his eyes flashed with the fires of hell. Holy shit, he was giving Saint a run for his money with that expression.
I growled under my breath, striding back to the centre of the mat and dropping down again.
Fifty more agonising, arm-trembling push-ups later, I got up, clutching my side as a stitch set in.
“Burpies,” he demanded. “Down. Now.”
I fell down with a groan as pain rolled through my whole body and I somehow pushed out another thirty before starting on the high knees.
I was about ready to collapse when he finally called time on my warm up (AKA the burning-tornado-of-death up) and directed me into the ring. “Wrap your hands, I’m not going easy on you today.”
“I noticed,” I muttered as I grabbed the wraps, strapping them on before climbing into the ring.
Monroe came at me like a runaway train and I ducked his first punch fast, wheeling around and slamming my fist into his kidney. We didn’t hold back anymore. We fought hard and dirty. I’d seriously enjoyed trying out the street fighting techniques he’d taught me on Kyan the other night, but now he was being a moody asshole, I was more than happy to try them out on him too.
I aimed a kick for his leg as he swung at me, trying to get a hold of my arm. My speed
