“My daughter can’t either,” a woman with dark curls adds.
“Mine either.”
They’re all nodding and I smile at them, slightly nervous. I feel like I’m about to get in trouble for teaching the girls something they shouldn’t be doing. “Do you want me to stop? I know some parents think it’s unhealthy for kids to be exposed to violence.”
Sofia laughs. “We were hoping you’d want to teach an adult class.”
“A class?” I look among them. “A class on what?”
“Self-defense,” one of the other moms volunteers. “We all want to learn. There’s actually about twenty of us who want to learn. If we can use the gym here, we can all pay you a small fee.”
“You don’t need to pay me.”
“Of course we do,” one of them cuts in. “Women shouldn’t work for free. Especially not with your level of experience.”
“But I’m—”Not that experienced, I want to say. Not the person you think I am. I’m the girl in the background. I don’t have the skills to lead a twenty-person class. In fact, the thought of leading a twenty-person class makes my palms sweat.
Like she can sense my nerves, Sofia gives me a kind smile. “You don’t have to decide right now. I’m sure you’rebusy. But we need more women like you out there. And we’re glad you’re teaching our daughters.”
My eyes heat. “I’d love to,” I croak without thinking beyond this ballooning feeling in my chest.
Emory joins me as the women go to pick up their daughters, hugging them. Arms go around shoulders. Hair gets smoothed by loving hands. Malika punches the air in demonstration and her mom laughs.
“If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you,” Emory says.
I look at my friend. My throat is closing and I can feel how wide my eyes are. I don’t know what to say.
Emory bumps me with her shoulder. “Too honest?”
“Not too honest.” I clear my throat. “Em, I think I found the thing that makes me feel big inside.”
She grins at me, then wraps me in a huge hug. “I knew it,” she whispers. She pulls away, still smiling.
I jogacross the grass to Tristan’s house. I hope he’s home. I need to talk to him. He’s the first person I want to share things with and I didn’t even think before I bolted out of the gym.
He opens the door and leans against the doorframe when I’m still fifteen feet away. Even from here, I see how handsome he is, how the fading afternoon light lovingly gilds his hair and the side of his jaw and the firm slope of his shoulders. I slow, nearly stumbling, then right myself.
“Smooth.” He grins. “Saw you coming across the grass, killer.”
I can’t respond. I stop at the bottom of his steps. TheTristanof him is hitting me straight in the chest.
He’s grinning at me like I didn’t just turn him down yesterday. He’s waiting for me. He’s just standing in his doorway like he has nothing better to do than be there when I need him to be. Against all reason, the backs of my eyes heat and my jaw works furiously in an effort to contain the maelstrom of feeling inside me.
No one has ever been as good to me as Tristan Prince.
I’m so in love with him.
Oh god.Of course I am. The realization feels right, like it was waiting patiently for me to unearth this part of myself. It sends shivers up my spine and wetness down my cheeks.
“You okay?”
“You’re not mad at me for turning you down,” I croak.
He tips his head. “I don’t think I even know how to be mad at you. It’s not in my DNA.” His eyes are warm and they reel me in, up the steps on my numb legs, straight to his chest, where my hands land.
“Katie.” He cups my cheek in one broad hand. “You’re crying.”
“I’m not.”
