Gemma frowned. “This song doesn’t make sense. Why does a rapper sing about lollipops and rodeos?”
“That’s a euphemism for a BJ.” I closed my mouth. Fuck, that’s probably not something I should have said.
Gemma stared at me with wide curious eyes. “What’s a BJ?”
I focused on the street, trying to come up with a semi-appropriate reply, but chastity wasn’t really my forte. “Forget it.”
If she asked Diego about it, he’d kick my ass. Maybe I should send her Dakota’s way. She had explained a BJ to Diego after all.
The rest of the drive passed in silence because my playlist wasn’t made for choir girl ears, but I could see Gemma still mulling over the song.
I led her into our gym and nodded toward the door of the locker room. “Why don’t you go change?”
Gemma nodded eagerly and dashed off.
I shook my head at her enthusiasm. I was already in gym clothes, so I had time to prepare my boxing gloves. Usually I preferred to fight with taped hands, because punches were harder that way. Yet, with a girl, I needed to make sure not to hurt her. I bandaged my fists anyway for our training at the boxing sack when Gemma emerged from the locker room.
I paused. Gemma wasn’t wearing the gym clothes she usually had—no washed out, too big sweatpants and baggy T-shirt. This time she wore one of those Gymshark workout outfits all the fitness tubers went crazy about. Tight purple tank top and tight leggings in the same color. Only the fitspo girls filled out those clothes. Gemma only managed to emphasize her non-existent curves.
Fuck. I knew why she had chosen that outfit, and I knew that neither Diego nor her father would approve of it.
She stopped right in front of me, her cheeks already bright red. It was obvious why. Of course, I’d seen her watching me before, but it always seemed funny. Now alone with her and knowing how crazy Diego was regarding his sister, the thing felt like a catastrophe in the making.
Crushing girls’ hearts was practically my special skill set, but knowing I had to break Kitty’s innocent little heart actually caused me a flicker of qualms.
She peered up at me like a lovesick puppy. I wondered how she imagined this day to go in her choir girl fantasies. From what Diego had mentioned, Gemma hadn’t even had the talk yet and her questions in the car had confirmed that. She probably thought all girls and boys did when they were alone was take a stroll over daffodil meadows.
Thank fuck, I’d at least chosen to wear a shirt today.
“Let’s start with our warm-up,” I said. She dropped her pink boxing gloves, waiting expectantly. “Double-unders. Ever done them?”
“I can’t do more than one or two,” she admitted.
“We’ll change that.” I handed her a jump rope then took one for myself. “Watch how I do it.” I walked a few steps back and began jumping. Simple rope jumps at first until I sped up and switched to double-unders. Just for fun, I did a couple triple-unders, but they were difficult to maintain, so I switched back to double-unders again. Gemma watched me slack-jawed.
I stopped. “Your turn.”
She looked ready to pass out from nervousness, so it really didn’t come as a surprise that she got tangled in the rope after only two jumps. Flushing, she quickly tried again, but her legs got entangled once again. “I’m sorry!”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” She was about to try again, but with the way her hands were shaking that would end the same way. I lightly touched her arm, stopping her. Her eyes flew up to mine, stunned. I could see goose-bumps spreading on her skin.
I pulled my hand away. “Don’t look at the ground while you’re jumping. Stare straight ahead, and only use your feet to push off the ground not your calves, that takes too much energy.”
“O-okay,” she stammered.
Gemma had never been this nervous around me. Being alone with me really threw her off. It almost made me feel sorry for her, but mostly I had to stop myself from laughing. “Give it a try and focus.”
She nodded, determination crossing her face. This time she managed to establish a good rhythm.
“Now, try to do a double-under.”
She did but didn’t jump high enough nor spin the rope fast enough. I explained what she had to change and eventually she managed to do three double-unders in a row. “This is something you need to practice over and over again. It’s not something that comes easy.”
She nodded obediently. “Can we fight now?”
I chuckled. “Sure.” I motioned toward the boxing ring and led her toward it. Grabbing her boxing gloves, she climbed through the ropes I parted for her. I swung myself over them and landed with a low thud inside the ring.
Again the admiration. I really needed to tone it down around Kitty.
I helped her put on her gloves, ignoring the way she blushed at our closeness. Then I put on my own gloves and faced her. I let her do high kicks against my palms for a while before I began sparring, but it became obvious pretty quickly that Gemma wasn’t focused on fighting, too distracted by my closeness. I stepped back with a shake of my head. “This isn’t working.”
She froze.
Here we go. I needed to establish ground rules if this was supposed to work the next few months. I’d given Diego and his father my word to protect Gemma, even if that required crushing her heart. “Listen, Gemma, I agreed to train with you but right now you aren’t fighting, you’re daydreaming.”
“I’m… I’m not,” she whispered lamely.
“You are,” I said firmly. “I know you’ve got a crush on me, but if you want to keep training with me, you’ll have to stop it. Either you focus on fighting or
