Speaking of workouts. These homework assignments are starting to feel less like fight prep and more like 20 Questions. Not that I’m complaining.
Reese
Your top three regrets are vital character research.
Dante
Careful with all this research, you might actually start to like me.
Reese
Don’t get carried away.
A smile tugsat my lips as I place my phone on my nightstand, snuggling deeper into my bed. It’s been a long week. What started this Monday as purely professional exchanges about training schedules has morphed into something dangerously close to banter. Ever since that day at the lake, our daily check-ins have become as much a part of my routine as my morning cup of tea—which is exactly the kind of realization that should send me running for the hills. And yet here I am, actually looking forward to his messages.
Dang it.
Chapter 12
Reese
“Good morning, sunshine.”Dante’s voice slices through my closed front door.
Dawn creeps through the windows of my cabin, painting stripes of pale blue light across the wooden floor. The camp is unnaturally quiet at 6:00 a.m., most of the crew having cleared out Saturday night, leaving behind only the whisper of wind through the pines and the distant call of early birds.
I crack the door open and find him leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place, a metal mug steaming in his hand.
“Shouldn’t you be terrorizing some other actress at this hour?”
We’ve slipped into an easy rhythm this week. He shows up to our sessions each night with an extra protein bar and extra Berg water. After training, he insists on walking me home. He holds open the rec center door, carries my bag when it’s too heavy, and always asks before touching any part of my body to adjust form. We text, small conversations here and there.
He’s been studying my recordings, repeating tricky words from his script, and answering all my sword-fighting questions—like how fencers scream to influence right-of-way decisionsand the strange pre-bout rituals some have, including Dante painting his nails black.
“You’re my favorite to terrorize.”
His weight shifts, a lazy, unhurried movement that shouldn’t affect me. Shouldn’t send a sharp awareness skittering through my chest. But it does. My gaze snags lower. His sweatpants are riding low. Too low.
Absolutely, unequivocallydistracting.
I snap my attention to the giant redwood behind him. I need to look literally anywhere but at him.
When I don’t speak for far too long, he says, “Besides, I’m here strictly on business.”
“How did you know I’d be awake?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Okay…well, do you need to, uh…” The thought dissolves as his fingers brush absently over the delicate chain around his neck, drawing my attention to the tattoos climbing up his throat.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“Why would you say that?” I pull back with surprise.
“You’re all flushed.”
“I’m not! I’m just tired,” I lie, and the smirk on his face tells me he knows I’m lying too. “Do you need to cancel our training today?”
“No, I wouldn’t dream of it. But we are doing something different today, and as your instructor, you’re going to have to trust me.”
