Exiled

FOUR

It is 8:50p.m. and I am approaching the gym where I am meeting David tonight.

I pull my black jacket closer to me as I feel the chill of the night air begin to creep inside me. I decided to change into a pair of simple black pants, and a green shirt before coming. I also thought it wise to trade my boots for my regular shoes.

I reach the gym and David is already inside. He alternates between scanning the gym and looking at his watch. He's wearing a tight black shirt and blue jeans that are ripped in random places. I tilt my head to the side as I briefly admire this version of his, feeling the urge to commit it to memory.

He looks comfortable, much younger, and not like an instructor at all. He's much burlier than Rhett, but that's probably because he's a little older, and when he is not working with us, he works somewhere within the defense group.

His eyes catch me as I come around the corner of one of the large windows framing the door. I smile politely and push the door open with my palm.

It is much warmer inside, so I take my jacket off and lay it gently over the back of the desk I sat in earlier.

"Right on time." David smiles warmly.

I am a little taken aback by his friendliness. "It's not hard to do as you're told. I prefer to not disappoint."

His eyes twinkle, one eyebrow cocked suddenly at my response. He clears his throat and shifts his body weight as he leans in ever so slightly closer.

"I thought we could use a bag to practice your punching— work on your form. Then I thought we could work a little on your defense techniques." He pauses as his eyes trail from my eyes to what feels like my lips. "I'll do my best not to hurt you." His voice is deep, throaty almost.

A blush creeps across my cheeks.

He is much more relaxed, playful even. It is a stark contrast to the instructor I have grown to know him as. He gestures toward the bag hanging from chains and I timidly walk towards it.

"Okay hands up, like I taught you." He coaxes my hands into place.

I stand, as he critiques my form, adjusting here and there as needed. He grabs my waist and twists me a little and I gasp at the unexpected brazen contact. My cheeks burn hot. I can almost feel the smile radiating off him from behind me.

Easy, Dallas... He's just helping you. My subconscious coaxes me into relaxing.

I can feel him moving around me, his energy strong and his presence dominates the room. When he is done, he stands to my left, arms crossed in front of his chest in satisfaction.

"Okay, now I want you to punch. Left, right, and then jab up. Keep going in that order until I tell you to stop." His tone is serious again.

I nod and begin.

Left, right, jab up.

Left, right, jab up.

I see him out of the corner of my eye as he begins to attentively circle me again as I continue the pattern. The clench of his jaw catches my attention, causing me to miss the bag and stumble forward. I shake it off and resume the pattern, focusing on the bag before me.

Left, right, jab up.

As hard as I try to maintain my focus, my mind wonders momentarily. I imagine myself being circled by a predator scoping out his prey. I shudder and shake it off, returning my focus on the task at hand. Sweat is beginning to bead along my hairline. Davi studies me intensely, his arms crossed firmly on his chest.