Violet's Octagon

Chapter 6 - Rain

It was Wednesday night. I couldn't help but feel a little nervous while I was getting ready for class, which was completely ridiculous. I hadn't stopped thinking about Derek all week which was doubly ridiculous.

I'd gone jogging everyday this week in preparation of tonight, just to make sure I was able to keep up a little easier this week. Curiously enough, when I'd past that grey house again on Sunday, there was a car that looked identical to Derek's parked there. Maybe he knew the person who lived there. Or maybe another person just had the same car. Come to think of it, the owner did look like a gym buff, from what I'd been able to see.

I'd also checked with Jill to make sure she was still planning on coming to the class, so I wouldn't be left without a sparring partner.

She'd answered something cheeky, I was almost getting used to it, and I'd laughed at her sassiness. I was happy to have made a new friend.

I decided to come to class with my motorcycle seeing as the weather was really nice. I parked in front of the gym and walked in. I almost turned around as soon as I entered, thinking I was in the wrong place. The gym looked a lot different than it had last week. The mats were empty, except for the few people from my class who had already arrived. The far left wall had been completely removed and gave way to an octagon cage, the kind you see during UFC matches. The cage was in a darker, gloomier room, but had a spotlight directly on top which perfectly illuminated him. Of course, Derek was inside the cage, shirtless, as if I needed an additional reason to feel weak in the knees. He was standing with another man, and they seemed to be getting ready to train. I bit my bottom lip and squeezed my thighs together. Heat spread through my limbs and I had to focus on my legs so I wouldn't crumble to the floor.

"He's been glancing at the door every minute, waiting for you to see his MMA skills. So hot!" Jill pranced towards me, her smile beaming.

I chuckled, but my eyes were still glued to his back. "You have a very wild imagination, Jill." I threw her a disapproving side glance.

"C'mon. Let's get ready." As I started walking towards the mats, I saw Derek turn his head and his eyes quickly darted around the room. He started to turn his head back, but he caught my eye and paused. I could see him tense from where I was, and his eyes lingered a second too long before he turned back. Okay, maybe Jill was right, but again, it was probably because he wanted to make sure I would come back so he could tell his manager that the free trial classes actually paid off. Mhm, yep, I was going to go with that.

I sat on the mat after placing my stuff along the back wall and risked a glance toward the cage. I gulped loudly because, as Derek moved to the side, I noticed the other man he was with.

Samuel.

Holy crap. I wanted to start thinking about how this happened, why he was able to join so fast, or why Derek was giving him a private lesson, but it didn't even matter.

I didn't want him here. But to be honest, I had all but booked his class for him.

Karen called us to our feet, snapping me out of my thoughts, and the class started. We were doing less ground holds today, so it was easier to throw glances at Derek a little more subtly. Trouble was, it wasn't subtle at all. Mainly because both men kept eyeing me as well.

And I knew that Samuel would think I was looking at him, so I tried to keep myself in check, but for the life of me I couldn't keep my eyes off Derek for more than a few minutes.

Not only was he a god, a shirtless god, and yes, his whole chest was covered in tattoos; but watching him teach, and watching him pull punches and throw kicks was just about the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

It seemed every time Samuel was struggling to keep up, he'd glance towards me and try it again with more intent until he nailed it. And it seemed that every time he'd nail something, or even sometimes when he wouldn't—although in our class we'd practice a move or two until we knew it like the back of our hand—Derek would immediately show him another type of punch, or hold, or kick.