"Ok, first step! Don't get in a fight at school if you know you're going to lose! Ignore drama! Control yourself!" he exclaimed, like a football coach getting his kids ready for a game.
I nodded listening closely.
"Second step! Use shield! Your arm is here for a reason! Here you try it. Bring your arms up and cover your face." He walked over to me and grabbed both of my arms gently. My stomach turned to knots. I stared into his beautiful eyes. He moved my arms in front of my face and moved both of my arms into a cross. "Just like that." He smiled. "Now put your arms beside you and when you see my fist coming, cover your face like I taught you. Ok?" I nodded. "Don't worry. I'm not really going to hurt you."
Once I saw his fist coming I covered my face. "Very good." He smiled. I noticed small dimples on both sides of his face as he smiled. I smiled back, 'cause it was really hard not to. "Third step! I'm going to teach you how to ball up your fist. A lot of people do it wrong."
He walked over to me and grabbed my hand. The whole side of my arm got chill bumps. He brought my hand up beside my face and balled my fist up, placing my thumb on top of my other fingers. "Now, hit that." He pointed towards the boxing bag. I took a deep breath and walked toward the bag. I brought my fist in the air and punched as hard as I could. He chuckled. "no, no." He bit his lip with amusement in his eye. "You have to stand a certain way but, I think we should go to bed it's like, one a clock," he stated. "We can try again in the morning."
He walked over to a door not so far from where we were standing. He opened the door and gestured for me to follow him. "You own this place?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief. "So, your parents own this place or something?" I asked. My best guess was that he was eighteen.
"No, I'm twenty-two," he chuckled. "How old are you kid?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Seventeen," I said. "I'm turning eighteen next month."
"You should be home. You can call your parents or something?"
"No!" He gave me an confused look. "I mean, my Mom died when I was three," I said. That was a lie. My mom was killed and murdered but, not when I was three. I was twelve and that was even worst. "And my dad is um, drunk and I don't want to be in the house with him…drunk."
He gave me a curious look. "Yea, ok. Follow me."
I followed him as he shut the door and locked it. "Did you lock the other door?"
He muttered a curse word under his breath. "No, um thanks for reminding me."
"I can lock it."
"Ok, thanks." he smiled. He unlocked the door. He threw me the keys with a smirk. "Thanks, princess." My stomach got caught in a knot as I nodded at him.
I walked over to the other door and locked it. I walked back over to him and handed him the keys. He locked the door back and started walking.
"I don't have any extra rooms so, just sleep in my room. I will sleep on the couch," he said taking off his shirt, oh-so-naturaly. I looked around the room to see that it was a really small room. "This is the living room. Down the hall on the left is my room." He pointed. "That way is the kitchen and that way is the bathroom." He gestured towards the kitchen on the right and pointed towards the bathroom beside the living room. "Make yourself at home and don't break anything," he threw himself on the couch. I stood there practically admiring him. He's perfect. I already figured that out since the first day I saw him.
He walked over to me and brought my face up so I was looking into his beautiful brown eyes. He smiled, "My eyes are up here." That's embarrassing. "Good night." He whispered.