It’s oddly endearing.
The flight to the redwoods vanishes as I let Reese’s voice consume me—half drill sergeant, half theater critic. Each barbedinsult strikes with surgical precision, and damn if I don’t hang on every syllable.
Maybe I’m developing a thing for verbal abuse.
Or maybe it’s just her.
“Thank you for last night’s training session,” she says. “After you wrapped, Felix told me that I’m not moving like a robot anymore. Try not to let that inflate your already impressive ego.”
I chuckle as she clears her throat. “Now, Mr. Hastings, I have some homework for you, though I have to admit it’s purely selfish. I am an actor, after all, and I have a fighter I can take advantage of—” She pauses. “For research purposes, I mean. I expect actual answers to the following questions: What keeps you going when you’re ready to collapse? What’s your pre-competition routine? And…” There’s another pause, which makes me lean forward. “Since you play our rebellious sheriff so convincingly, tell me about your last brush with authority. I imagine you won’t have to dig too deep.
“As I said, this is strictly for character development, of course,” she adds. “Training me and mastering the script is still your priority.” Her tone shifts, taking on the edge that makes me want to push her buttons. “If at our next practice time allows, I wouldn’t mind if you showed me the leg sweep counter you demonstrated to your cohort of cronies this morning. Sunday, 8:00 p.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”
A beat of silence. “And Mr. Hastings? If you’re listening to this on Monday, you need to take this more seriously.” The recording ends with an exasperated sigh. Her irritation is starting to feel like foreplay.
I type out a text to her, but it doesn’t quite sit right. I try again. Fuck. My fingers hover over the keys as I knock back more whiskey, attempting to steady my nerves.
This is ridiculous.
I’ve got socialites and starlets practically begging for my attention, my phone constantly lighting up with flirtatious messages. So why am I sitting here like some lovesick teenager, overthinking every word?
Dante
Your voice has quite the effect on me, Professor Sinclair. Even when you’re critiquing me, I can’t help but want to hear more.
Little Fighter
Focus on the content, not the delivery, Mr. Hastings.
Dante
I’ve always been a model student, you know.
Little Fighter
I don’t believe that for a second.
Dante
Okay, you caught me. But maybe I needed the right instructor to keep me in line. And you’ve already scolded me enough to make me do my homework.
No response.
Dante
For battling exhaustion? The best cure is a mix of intense training and more intense enjoyment of life. No release valve, and you burn out fast.
Though I imagine your version of relaxing involves reorganizing your script annotations.
Little Fighter
Organization can be its own form of release.
Dante
Intriguing…
She doesn’t take the bait, so I keep going.
