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Chapter Eleven Raya St Claire
The training room wasempty the next morning and very, very quiet without Bear here to teach me more moves like the flying kick or even the hook punch. I know how to do them, but a little more practice wouldn’t have hurt. If last night’s alley incident told me anything, it’s that I didn’t remember Archie’s advice at all––that I shouldn’t let my anger take over, and it did, and it led to me getting a cut neck, a bruised cheek and a pulsing headache. I really need more practice than I thought.
But nothing hurt more than Bear’s absence. He wasn’t even behind my bedroom door this morning to knock me awake like he did every other morning. I got woken up to the sounds of rain pitter-pattering against my window, and if it wasn’t for the rain that woke me up, I would’ve still been asleep, trying to fight off the headache.
I don’t want to admit that I waited for his knocks, but I did, and they never came.
He really was hurt.
I hated this wedge between the two of us, but if he’s ready to talk to me someday, I’ll be here in the training room waiting for him to talk to me. I was seated on one of the many benches scattered all over the training room, wrapping some tape around my left hand when the door to the training room opened. My heart rate speeds up and I turn to look at who decided to join me.
Maybe Bear has come to his senses.
But it wasn’t Bear.
It was the newcomer. He was wearing an embroideredlettered black and white tee with a black pair of drawstring sweatpants, and he finished his outfit off with a pair of clean, brand new sneakers. I don’t even know if it was brand new.
It was so clean. It looked brand new, straight out of the box brand new.
“How are you feeling?” He asks, crouching down in front of me and before I could protest, he takes the tape from my hand and starts to tape my right hand.
“I’m fine.” I tell him. “The cut on my neck is just so annoying. I keep pulling my neck whenever I throw a punch to one of the punching bags. It feels like the cut gets ripped open all over again.”
He nods without looking at me. He purses his lips as he focuses on taping my right hand, giving it his full attention. He did it gently too, like one tight squeeze and it would hurt me.
“Where were you, by the way?” I ask him, looking at the tattoo peeking out of his shirt by his collarbone. “You were gone for a very long time. I almost thought you left if you didn’t show up in the alleyway with the rest of the NC.”
