Page 63 of Defiant
“The only reason I wasn’t is…actually because of Archer,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest. “The guy I went to that party with, the one I used to think liked me.” My eyes closed, and I let out a bitter chuckle. “I really do hate it here.”
Jacob shook his head. “At least he stepped in when you were in trouble…this time.” He pushed away from the counter, taking a few measured steps toward me, eyeing me up as if he didn’t trust himself to get any closer. After what happened last time, I guess I couldn’t exactly blame him. “Who were they? Do you know their names? If you give them to me, I’m sure I can dig up some dirt on their families.”
An offer to help me, or an offer for me to pay him to help me?
Either way, I wasn’t sure I wanted to bite. I only wanted him to teach me some self-defense. I really just…wanted to spend time with him, forget about what happened in Midpark High, let the others slip from my mind as I breathed in his musky scent.
Was that so wrong?
“No,” I finally spoke, pursing my lips as I denied him their names. “I don’t want that.” I was sure with both Dante and Vaughn by my side, I’d be getting enough dirt for all of them without the need for Jacob to involve himself.
“Then what do you want?” He almost sounded pleading, as if he was begging me to say something else. Not that I wanted him to teach me self-defense, but that I wanted him. That I wanted those arms around me once again, his rough lips devouring mine and shattering every calm thought I had in my head.
Or maybe that was just me, wishing that was what he wanted me to say.
“I told you before, I want you to teach me some moves.” I managed a smile, even though smiling was the last thing I wanted to do. “Even if I never use them, it’ll make me feel better, at least.”
Jacob let out the loudest sigh I’d ever heard, shaking his head softly, like he wanted to argue with me. He didn’t, though; he simply motioned for me to follow him, and I did.
We headed down the hallway, going to what would be a second bedroom in any other apartment here. In Jacob’s place, it was a workout room, full of weight-lifting machines, a treadmill, and a huge, worn-out punching bag. The room smelled of sweat, the blinds on the windows closed.
“I assume you want to learn some takedown maneuvers,” Jacob muttered, folding his arms across his chest as he studied me, “in case you ever need to use them.” The way he spoke, it was like I was making him think of the worst possible thing, me needing to take down someone bigger than me.
I nodded.
“You already know where to hit to cripple a man momentarily, but if you have enough power behind your hit, you can also go for the windpipe,” Jacob said, demonstrating a slow-motion karate chop to his throat. “If you bruise it, your attacker won’t be able to breathe for a few moments, which’ll make him weak. You can also go for the eyes; a blind opponent is much easier to outrun than one that can track you.”
The look on my face must’ve told him what I was thinking: and if I didn’t want to run? If I wanted to stay and beat the shit out of him for what he tried doing? It would be self-defense, wouldn’t it?
Not that I was saying I wanted to kill. I wasn’t. I just…when I thought of what had nearly happened to me, I wanted to inflict pain on them, not just cripple them enough that I could run away.
“You will run,” Jacob told me, stepping closer to me. His musky scent filled my nose, and I fought to resist the urge I had to lean into him. His arms were crossed, anyway. It wasn’t a good position for me to lean against. “You will not stay and fight. If something like that ever happens again to you, and you’re alone with no one to come and save you, you bring them down and you run. You don’t stay.”
I felt almost like a child, wanting to argue with him. “Fine,” I muttered, staring hard at the floor, as if I couldn’t truly promise it while looking into those knowing hazel eyes.
“You better not be lying to me,” he growled out, arms dropping to his side.
I told him I wasn’t, but I didn’t think he believed me. Probably for good measure, as I didn’t think I was that earnest when declaring I would run.
We spent the next hour in the workout room. Jacob focused on teaching me how to get out of a grip should someone be grabbing me by my shoulders or my shirt. You basically had to weave your arm up and down through theirs and then use your other hand to hit their arms. Combining the strength of your hand with your arm up, under, and between both of theirs was enough to get them to let you go—as long as they weren’t expecting that move from you.
It was the simplest move Jacob could teach me. He demonstrated on me, multiple times, and then he took on the role of the attacker. We’d focus on this one, first. It’d be all we’d do today, since I had to get home. He said he’d teach me another move next week, that we could meet a few times every week after school, and I…I agreed.
I agreed partially because I wanted to learn more self-defense, and also because I missed seeing him. I really, truly did.
It was hard to act like I had to get out of his grasp. When his hands found my shirt, when he held onto me like he didn’t want to let go, it was difficult for me to want to escape him. Even after what happened on Monday, a part of me still wanted to dare Jacob to toss me over his shoulder and take me into the other room of the apartment, the room with the bed.
Yeah, that was kind of inappropriate, but what could I say? I trusted him. I trusted him even if he’d kept the fact that he knew Oliver Fitzpatrick from me in the beginning. How could I blame him for wanting to keep his past to himself?
It was after maybe a dozen or so tries when I simply stood there, staring at the muscles on his arms and making no moves to try to escape his hold like I’d been doing.
“Jaz,” Jacob muttered my name, a scowl on his face, “come on. Even if you’re tired, fight through it. Your attacker won’t care if you’re sore or exhausted after a long day—”
“I know,” I whispered, shutting my eyes. His fingers were curled in my shirt, but I could still feel the heat seeping through them, warming my body. Those hands…I could really use them someplace else. “I just wish…I wish everything was different, you know?”
He sighed, slowly releasing me. “Great, so it’s time to talk again.”
Yeah, yeah, Jacob hated having heart-to-hearts, we all knew that by now. His comment still earned him a glare from me. I watched as he left the room, and I trailed after him, following him to the kitchen. He got out two water bottles from the refrigerator, tossing me one—which I actually managed to catch.
