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He smirked. “That’s my girl.” He grabbed my left arm, and swiveled around onto his back. His knees squeezed together, trapping my arm between them, as he lifted his hips up to lock my elbow. It was quick, and smoothly executed, and it hurt like hell.
“Ow!” I cried.
T.J. released my arm immediately, chuckling as he sat up. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
I rubbed my elbow. “You could break someone’s arm like that.”
“If you’re trying to break someone’s elbow, you could. The point is to bring your opponent to the point of surrender. He taps, and you win.”
“Can you get out of an arm bar, so you don’t have to surrender?”
His eyes narrowed as he grinned. “I like that question. What do you say we save that for your next session, and go grab some dinner?”
“I won’t be very good company.”
“Eh, I’ve had worse.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He chuckled, amused with himself. “So, pizza?”
“Pizza.”
We walked next door, ordered the same food and sat in the same booth in the back as we did the last time we were here. T.J.’s high school fan club perked up as soon as they saw him.
“How old are you, anyway?” I asked while we waited for our food to come out.
“Twenty-five,” he replied.
“You seem so… established.”
“I’d like to think I am.”
“That’s so impressive. You’re so young to have your life set.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s set. I have a business that I’m thankful for, but there’s more to life than just work.”
“What else do you do with your time?”
“I said there’s more to life than work. I didn’t say I did anything else.” He laughed.
“Now I see why you don’t mind hanging around me so much. You have no life!”
“Curly haired girls in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
I took my crumpled straw wrapper and tossed it at him and grinned.
The young girls bounced to our table with our food. “Hi, T.J.” they said simultaneously.
“Hi. Thanks.” He wasted no time in taking a mammoth-sized bite from his chicken sandwich. The girls scurried back behind the counter, whispering to each other.
“Okay, Curly Sue. You’re halfway through training. Tonight, I’m giving you homework. You’re not going to like it, but you need to complete it.”
“What kind of homework?”
“You need to call your mom.”
My stomach dropped. “Why though? How is talking to her going to make a difference?”
