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The woman looks grateful at my encouragement, and I watch her leave before going to pick my stuff up.
I am bending over to pick up my water bottle when I hear a knock on the glass door of the entrance to the room.
“The class is over. Next one’s one—” I pick up the water bottle and still to see Zayn leaning against the door, his long frame so casually arranged, watching me. “Zayn.”
“Hey,” he says, finally. “Got a minute?”
I don’t hold a grudge against him.
I ca
n’t afford to.
However, I also know that rekindling a sort of friendship isn’t going to happen either. I have too much self-respect for that.
“Yeah,” I start walking towards him, my face calm. “Walk and talk. I need to shut down the studio. Saturday we’re only open a half day.”
I brush past him without a second glance and feel his lingering gaze on me as he walks behind me. “I need to talk to you.”
I start locking the classrooms one by one. “About what?”
His voice sounds a bit strained. “About yesterday.”
My hands are in the process of closing a lock, and they freeze before I force myself to finish my task, keeping my tone relaxed. “What about it?”
I move on to the last door, and I am reaching for the lock when he yaps, “The kiss, dammit! Just look at me, will you?”
He puts his hands on my shoulder and whirls me around to face him.
Without thinking, my body reacts to the aggressiveness, and I have the small penknife in my pocket out and at his throat.
Realizing what I have just done, I pale. “Oh shit, sorry! That is a reflex.”
I pull back and flick the penknife closed.
Zayn stares at me, stunned. “What the hell was that?”
I tuck the penknife in my pocket, wincing. “My bad.”
“Why the hell are you carrying a penknife?” His voice is harsh. “And what was that move?”
“Self-defense,” I mutter. “I take regular courses.”
I lean down to snap the lock shut and start walking into my office.
He prowls after me. “Why do you need a self-defense class?”
I start gathering my things. “Because you can never be too safe?”
“Are you scared of somebody?” he asks, his tone rough. “Are you in trouble?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Zayn. Calm down before you pop a vein. Tell me what you want to talk about. I have to get groceries, and I’m running late.”
His jaw tenses. “You’re hiding something from me.”
I flick a cool look towards him. “And what makes you think you’re so important that I’m going to go around hiding information from you? Calm your tits, Zayn. Tell me what you want.”
My secrets are my own.
