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Chapter 1
Madison
This is exactly what I need after the week I’ve had. I slam the car door shut and turn around to face the dojo while deflating with a deep sigh. The building stands tall in the evening sun, a large sign reading TENSHO Jiu-Jitsu above the entrance. The faint sound of slaps and kicks against mats can be heard from inside. It’s like music to my ears.
But I should be careful today. I’m bubbling with fiery frustration and I can’t let my emotions get the better of me. Not again—and never on the mat.
This week has been one of the roughest ever since I took over the family company after Dad’s death. My idiotic uncle and I haven’t seen eye to eye on a lot of things, but the decision we’re battling over right now is the biggest we have ever faced. And I’m not giving in to his will. Never. He may think I’m just a stupid little girl, not capable of leading the company and honoring my father’s legacy, but I will prove him wrong.
I will prove all of them wrong.
After changing into my workout clothes, I head towards the mat, where people are starting to line up. My eyes wander around the room, scanning the faces for potential opponents. Usually we wear a gi, the traditional heavy cotton uniform of the jiu jitsu practitioner, but today is a no-gi class. That means I can’t tell people’s level of expertise based on the color of their belt, but I know most of the regulars, and spot a few guys who should have no problem handling my fury.
And then I see him. A new guy. Very athletic, dark brown hair in a crew cut, shaved at the sides and a bit longer on top, and a tattoo peeking through from underneath the elbow-length sleeves of his rashguard. I can’t make out what it is, but it seems to be rather big and cover most of his upper arm. He has a strong jawline, and his lips are pressed together, while his dark eyes are narrowed to complete the stern expression on his face.
His presence is oddly captivating, and I catch myself momentarily lost in admiration. Tall and broad-shouldered, he exudes confidence with a hint of arrogance. His dark hair contrasts with the pure white rashguard he’s wearing, and his piercing eyes seem to hold a hint of excitement mingled with determination. I have never seen him here before, but based on the way he moves and his sculpted body I can tell he’s not new to this sport. He could even be a brown belt, like me.
Quickly snapping back to reality, I mentally scold myself for getting distracted. I need to focus, and so I prepare for class by stretching and warming up. But I catch myself looking back in his direction again and again, a nervous flutter stirring within me every time I lay eyes on him.
Does he look familiar? Do I know him? Is that it?
No, I’m sure I’ve never seen him before. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this handsome before.
More people are stepping into the room, filling up the space between us. I find myself glancing back at him—and before I know it, our eyes meet when he looks up from his kneeling position while stretching one of his hamstrings. Instantly, I feel the heat of embarrassment rush into my cheeks.
Get a grip. He’s just a handsome guy. There are plenty of them all over L.A., and this dojo is no exception. Why am I acting like a silly schoolgirl?
And why does my ribcage feel like a garden of butterflies, every time I look at him?
I need to calm down, I decide, shaking my head as if that could clear my frazzled mind.
“Alright, guys, let’s get started!” Raymond, our sensei, walks into the room clapping his hands in an effort to get everybody’s attention. “Line up!”
We do as we’re told, lining up in a random but orderly fashion, while collectively facing Raymond as he places himself in front of the large row of floor-to-ceiling windows.
“We have a new addition to the group today,” he says, waving to the new guy, who is standing at the other end of the group, pretty much as far away from me as possible.
“Would you mind introducing yourself quickly, Chase?”
The guy—Chase—responds with a quick nod, before he comes forward and turns around to face the group.
“Hi! Name’s Chase,” he starts, and a quick smile flashes across his face, before he returns to his serious expression. “Been doing Jiu-Jitsu for a couple of years. Enjoying it a lot, but I’m just a blue belt, so, I guess, some of you may have to go a bit easy on me?”
With that last sentence, he’s casting his acknowledging looks in all the wrong directions, picking out the biggest and strongest guys in our group without ever looking at me, one of the very few brown belts around. I’m one of the strongest grapplers here tonight, but he’s oblivious to that fact.
“Looking forward to getting to know all of you,” he concludes—and this time, he looks straight at me. His gaze feels like a punch to the chest, and I have to force myself not to take a step back in intimidation.
“Thanks, Chase,” Raymond says, gesturing for Chase to step back. In keeping with our etiquette, the newcomer gives a subtle bow in Raymond’s direction, before rejoining the group.
Class starts with a few repetitions and warm up sequences, before we are asked to pair up to roll together. The new guy, Chase, is far away from me, and I hate the surge of jealousy that spreads through my chest as I watch him pair up with another girl, Amy. She’s a blue belt who was lucky enough to be standing right next to him when Raymond asked us to find a partner.
Or maybe it wasn’t luck, and Amy made sure to be in the right place at the right time. I wouldn’t be surprised, because he’s just so…
Oh my God, I’m being ridiculous.
Why do I care? I’m here to roll, to let off some steam, and turn my anger into sweat.
I focus on finding that healthy outlet as I grapple with opponents of varying skill levels. But every now and then, I steal glances at the new guy, catching him executing techniques with precision and grace.
