Page 18 of Quake
I’d wondered that morning what it was about Beat that stripped me bare and turned me into a stuttering fool, but I could see it clearly now. I stepped through the roller door, and my fears, my anxiety, and my past all came rushing at me, trying to pull me under. I’d come here with the intention of facing all of that baggage, so it wasn’t any wonder I was struggling and associating those things with this place.
I was floundering with no way to surface, but Caleb…he’d reached out. All I had to do was take his hand and allow him to show me the way to the light. I had to trust he had my best interests at heart. I had to focus on getting better, not getting laid.
“Can we start from the beginning?” I asked, my voice hardly louder than a hushed whisper. “I… I couldn’t keep up with the others… And I… I want to…”
“From the beginning,” he said, his voice devoid of judgment, and I felt myself begin to soften as some of my anxiety melted away. “The most effective body parts to hit are the eyes…” He pointed out each body part as he went. “Nose, ears, neck, knees, legs, and the groin.”
I felt a flush pink my cheeks when he pointed to the last part, my mind going straight to the gutter.I was staring at his dick. Well, he pointed at it.
“When you’re confronted, you only have a few seconds to react,” he went on. “Before an attacker has gained full control, do anything you can to cause him pain. It’ll buy you enough time to get away. It isn’t about taking him down and making a citizen’s arrest. It’s about getting the hell out of there.” He didn’t have to tell me twice. “In a physical confrontation where you can’t get away immediately, it’s hurt or be hurt. Aim for the parts of the body where you can do the most damage. Kicking a guy in the nuts is the easiest.” He smirked and pretended to wince. “Hurts like hell.”
Despite myself, I began to smile.
Looking pleased with himself, Caleb went on, describing in detail some easy ways I could fight back.
“Depending on how close he is, you need to be able to make a snap decision about where to strike first,” he explained. “Whatever you do, don’t step any closer than you have to. Best not to close any distance, or it’ll give him a chance to grab you.”
I nodded, my mind and my eyes wandering, finding it difficult to listen when he looked as good as he did. Now some of my confidence was returning, I could look at him. He had this boyish cheek that was beginning to shine through, and I was enamored with it. He didn’t want to take himself so seriously, despite his chosen sport, or at least that was what I thought. I liked it.
“Here,” he said, closing his hand around my wrist, the heat of his skin warming straight through my limbs. “When striking the upper half of the body, use your hand.” He guided my palm upward, showing me how to strike his nose from beneath. “Or you can use the outer edge of your hand on the neck like this…” He flattened my hand and made a karate chop motion. “Or a fist to the throat, right in the Adam’s apple.” He curled my fingers into a fist, leaving my thumb out, and pressed my knuckles against his throat.
“Try it out,” he said, gesturing for me to attack. I hesitated, and he shook his head. “No hesitating, Juliette. Don’t worry about hurting me. Smack me one.”
He took a menacing step forward, and I panicked, throwing my weight back and striking feebly with a mediocre karate chop to his neck. Naturally, I missed and fell to the side, my shoulder smacking into his chest. Caleb’s arms wrapped around me, signaling an epic fail on my part, and he held me tightly against him.Caught.
“Don’t throw your weight back,” he murmured, his breath fluttering against my hair. “It’s natural to shy away when you’re not used to aggression, but the whole point of practicing is to break down those walls.”
“But I suck royally,” I said with a dramatic moan.
“It’s not the ballet, Juliette,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue like honey. “It’s the difference between getting away or getting hurt. No one will give a shit what you look like.”
He let me go, and I turned back to face him, bereft at the loss of his arms across my chest. I was meant to picture him as an attacker, not a hot, muscled, pro boxer who’d given me a special private self-defense class. And who I was now picturing kissing…and doing other things.Shit.
I blew out a heavy breath and closed my eyes.
“Try again,” Caleb said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Trying to get the vision of his sweaty body out of my mind, I pictured something a little darker. Remembering the night I passed by the crime scene on Sydney Road and the terrible night’s sleep in the bathtub clutching a kitchen knife, I trembled. It was that fear, that helplessness, that had driven me here in the first place. I was sick and tired of being a victim.
Opening my eyes, I felt a surge of anger well inside me, and I struck out at Caleb. I didn’t know what I was doing, but my fist slammed into his cheek, my knuckles colliding with bone. A smack echoed through the empty studio, and I gasped as he stumbled back a step.
“Holy fuck,” he said, slapping his hand against his cheek.
“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. He bent over at the waist, his hands resting on his knees, and began to laugh. “Man, I wasn’t expecting that.”
I smiled, not feeling so bad about hitting him in the face. I’d never hit anyone before, and man, when I pictured it the way I did…it feltgood.
“I think that was a stellar start,” he said when he finally straightened up. “Top marks for effort.”
I saw the red mark on his cheek and began to feel bad all over again.
“Did I…” I started, my gaze returning to his.
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he said, waving me off. “I’ve had worse believe me.”
“Have you ever been knocked out before?”
