Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
I didn't stop until she finally turned, glaring, mind you, and walked over.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" she asked, emphasizing the last word.
Ah, bitch, please. I could eat girls like you for breakfast. Try living with a man who made you second guess everything for ten years, and then we'll talk.
"Oh, I'm sorry to pull you away from your great-grandfather over there, but I'm sure his prune juice is kicking in any minute now. So, perhaps you could do your job and assist me, that would be great! I would like to inquire about the kickboxing lessons."
Her face scrunched up at my use of "great-grandfather," and I could tell she was about to rain down vengeance on me, the threat clear in her eyes. The mention of kickboxing had her stopping, and a maniacal grin spread across her face. Creepy.
"Of course, you have to get approval from the instructor. He's currently with a client, but you can interrupt him in one of the private gyms upstairs. He's in #5. He won't mind at all." Why didn't I trust her?
"Okay, great. Thanks. Make sure to ask your grandpappy for a Werther's Original before he leaves!"
Quickly, I backed away toward the stairs. My bravado faded and I was now afraid of her wrath for that final blow. She seemed like the type to try and throw something at me.
Had it been petty? Hell yes. But it'd felt fucking amazing. So worth it after the toxic emotions I'd felt today.
Climbing the stairs, I felt rejuvenated at holding my ground for once. I even patted myself on the back for my quippy remarks. Typically, I was the one who thought of a response five minutes after the fact—so not helpful. Glancing at the door numbers, I started to think she sent me to a fake room until I reached the end of the hallway, and there it was gym #5. Knocking, I didn't hear anything, so I pulled open the door and peeked my head in. There in all his glory was Mr. Dark Eyes, brooding asshole extraordinaire, surly hotness himself, and none other than apparently, the kickboxing instructor.
And he did not look happy at my intrusion if the glare on his face was any indication. Well, hello to you too, jerk. Maybe it was how I wore my hair today? Why else were all these people suddenly talking to me and giving me attitude? Perhaps, it was just the first time I'd noticed. The blinders were off, and I was starting to see through the fog. Anxiety filled me at the thought that my world wasn't how I'd perceived it as.
I knew why the front desk girl was smiling all evil villain style, now. She'd known he wouldn't be pleased for my interruption and was excited about the torture I was about to experience. Well, screw her too. Deciding I was tired of being everyone's punching bag, I crossed my arms, leaned back against the wall, and glared back.
His chocolate brown hair was curled slightly from the sweat on his forehead and matched his dark pooling eyes that were glaring daggers at me. A short beard covered the bottom of his face but did nothing to hide his full lips. They were currently lifted in a sneer as he stared me down. From this close, I could gauge his height to around 6'2". The sweat that dripped down his toned chest wasn't distracting in the least. Besides, whatever curiosity I'd had about him previously evaporated as the stubborn aggression to stand my ground took over.
See, asshole, you aren't as scary as you thought you were. Bring it.