It hasn't been hard tracking down the elusive Hayden Walker. A quick google search led me to the gym he owned in Petersville called GymCon, and now I am standing outside of it, my hands tucked tightly into my faux-fur coat while my heart pounds in rhythm with the rain.
The front door is blacked out and cracked around the corners, like someone's taken a heavy object and tried to break through the double-glazed glass. I want to turn back now that my plan is in full swing, but I tug on the handle anyway.
Locked. I examine the crumpled sheet stuck to the window, sighing when I see the gym closes at eight. I glance at my watch–8:05. I came all of this way for nothing.
The lights in the gym are still on. I wait outside for a little while longer, leaning against the wall. Just as I'm about to give up, the door behind me unlocks from the inside. I push myself away from the wall and smooth down my hair as the door swings open. Out walks a man, his face shielded by his black hooded coat. Only once he has finished locking the door behind him does he notice me standing here expectantly.
The first thing I see is his pale green eyes, which stare down at me with an air of impatience.
Hayden Walker.
"Can I help you?" Despite his words, he doesn't sound nor look like he particularly wants to help me.
"Sorry," I start, my voice sounding young. "I meant to get here while the gym was still open, but the bus took a little longer than I expected." I give him an apologetic smile, one that usually makes the guy on the receiving end of it smile in return, but his expression remains unwelcoming beneath the glare of the street lamp.
To say he is intimidating is an understatement. Everything about him is hard and scary, from his 6'1 height to his strong, broad shoulders. He may be beautiful, but it is a dangerous beauty, one that will capture a girl's heart long enough for him to destroy it to pieces.
"I'm not sure if you recognize me," I say, twiddling with my necklace. Jamie got it for me for my birthday last year, and I haven't taken it off since.
He doesn't take his eyes off mine. "Sure I do. You're the girl who straddled me last night."
I am horrified. "No! I mean yes, but that was an accident. My name's Maddie. We go to the same school."
Hayden stares back at me, impatiently waiting for me to get to the point.
"I saw your fight the other night," I continue. "I was wondering if you offered one on one lessons."
He raises an eyebrow. Clearly, that's not what he'd been expecting me to ask. He thinks for a moment, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. "No."
I wait a second for him to elaborate. When he doesn't, I say, "But what if–"
"Listen," he says, cutting me off. "I don't offer lessons and I don't let girls into my gym." He pulls something out of his pocket, a move that causes me to step back slightly before I realize it's just his keys. He furrows an eyebrow and examines me closely, clearly amused. "We done here?"
Without waiting for my answer, he goes to step past me. I don't even think about it: I block his path as though he couldn't just throw me to the side if he wanted to.
"And here I thought sexism was dead," I say, before remembering that old saying: You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. "Look." I sigh. "There aren't any gyms in my new neighborhood that offer fighting or what have you."
He lifts a shoulder before quickly dropping it. "Not my problem."
"I'm making it your problem," I snap. "All I'm asking is for a few lessons a week to teach me how to fight. I'll make it worth your while."
He raises his eyebrows and glances at my chest, causing me to blush.
"With money," I clarify. "How much is it going to cost to make you change your mind?"
The corner of his lip starts to twitch in a smile. "You rich girls always think you can buy people out. It doesn't work like that."
"Sure it does," I say. "Everybody has their price."
"Not me," Hayden says, but his green eyes are gleaming in such a way that I know I have caught his attention. "Why do you want to learn so bad, anyway? You don't exactly strike me as the type." His eyes rake over me from head to toe, clearly unimpressed.
I swallow hard, trying to block out the wall of memories. "I just do," I say. "Are you going to help me or not?"
He looks at me for a second too long. His face softens slightly before reverting back to his typical look of indifference. "Alright. I'll teach you the basics, but that's it."
I take a step forward, unable to keep the smile from my face. "Great, when do we start?"
Hayden runs a hand down his face, no doubt already regretting his decision. "Tomorrow, eight till nine. 200 a month. Don't be late."
When I grin again, he turns and walks off in the other direction. I don't even care that it takes me nearly an hour to get home, I'm just glad that tomorrow, I will finally learn how to defend myself.
When I make it back home, Aunt Lilly's famous pot roast is ready. Everyone's already at the table, so I take the chair next to my mother. Aunt Lilly makes us say grace before we eat, and then the table comes alive, with everyone sharing stories of how their day has been. I am unusually quiet, wanting to keep today's adventure firmly to myself.
It's not that I'm worried about what they might think, but if I admitted to my family that I wanted self-defense lessons, they'd start asking why. Aunt Lilly and the others wouldn't have the faintest idea, but my mother would know, and I can't make her worry like that. So when it gets to my turn, I say I went to the gym and leave it at that.
Later that night, I finally manage to FaceTime Jamie. He's in the middle of sleeping and sounds a little groggy, but he tells me how much he misses me. I feel the same way, but a small part of me is already getting used to his absence, which makes me feel guilty.
"How is it there?" he asks. He keeps glancing at the clock, and I know that he's desperate to get back to sleep–I'm messing up his bedtime routine.
"It's okay," I say. "I mean, it's definitely weird, but not as weird as I thought it would be if that makes sense."
"Yeah, it does." He glances at the clock. "Have you made any friends?"
"I guess." If I can consider June and my two step-cousins friends. "You know what I'm like. Not exactly Miss sociable."
"Well, maybe you can start fresh there," he says. "Step out of your comfort zone."
I almost want to laugh. I know his advice is meant to be helpful, but it's easier said than done. "I'll try my best," I say tiredly. "Speak to you tomorrow?"
He smiles in relief. "Yeah, speak to you tomorrow. Love you."
"Love you." I close my laptop lid and climb into bed, unable to stop thinking about tomorrow. I'm nervous but excited, like maybe these training sessions will be the answer to all of my problems.
There's nothing for me to be afraid of if I know how to protect myself; maybe I'll finally be able to relax for once. At least, I hope so, or I'll be giving Hayden Walker a heap load of cash for absolutely nothing.