The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Thirty-Three - Snow Fight

RILEY

TONY HAD SCURRIED FROM THE CABIN, saying he didn't need to monitor this part of the training given that Luc could judge it on his own. What an opportunist.

I dragged my feet across the wooden floor and slipped on my boots before crunching through the backyard snow. Luc waited for me with his arms folded, dressed in nothing but his house clothes. I added a jacket over my shoulders, knowing that the cold affected me more than him. He watched me come forth, a mischievous grin splitting his lips.

As soon as I stopped a foot away, he rubbed his hands.

"Hit me."

I shook my head. "What?"

Luc smirked. "You heard me. Come at me."

I didn't understand how I'd learn like this. Was I just supposed to launch and get my butt grilled repeatedly? It didn't sound productive or smart. I looked at my mittens and slowly shed them off, wishing I stayed indoors. We weren't allowed to wrestle inside the house to avoid breaking furniture, so I was told.

This was a terrible, terrible idea. 

"I don't want to fight," I whined, staring momentarily at the tree cusps soughing in the breeze. "You'll just use it to pick on me."

"Look, I won't go hard. I promise," he said, and he flicked an impatient hand. "But we have to start. It's for the better."

Luc hunkered down in a semi-crouch, doing a come-hither motion as a brow subtly curved up. I went to place my mittens high on a terrace corner, then returned. The dry air blew over my already chapped knuckles. I considered asking for a signal or if he was ready, but I figured that the element of surprise would work in my favor.

I stepped back, clenching my fingers into a fist. My arm swung, whipping out in an arc. Without blinking, Luc clasped my wrist before it shot close, and his face drew a frown.

"That was far too slow, even for you." He brought my arm down. Before I could see what was happening, he switched me rearward, as if he were twirling me but rougher. He twisted my arm and pinned it between my back and his chest. "Saw you coming miles away, Sunshine."

"This is so not fair. I don't even know where to start."

I was released and stumbled forward. I spun around to glare at him, not pleased about being handled so harshly. Luc jerked his chin and regained his position, all-business.

"You can fake a move," he suggested, eyes blending with the evergreens.

With a mighty—and annoyed—inhale, I wedged my boots in the snow and stared him down. How was I going to surprise him? There was no trick I could pull that would throw him off guard. He'd prevail one way or another because I sucked. But if I was going to take his suggestion and fake an attack, where would I strike? 

For a moment, I evaluated the options with the little knowledge I owned, thinking of methods I might be able to execute. Besides, I was learning. Winning, if possible, won't happen in a while.

Luc didn't move, palms resting on his knees. His gaze was locked on mine. I sniffled once and shuffled my limbs to summon the adrenaline—I'd need every ounce of it.

I launched towards him, covering the distance between us swiftly, and lifted my white-knuckled fist. I aimed it at his face again, putting all the strength I could muster behind it. Luc scowled when he saw it, and he prepared to block my punch. He captured it and I used his support to raise my leg.