He retaliates.
We do it again.
And again.
And again.
***
By the time we’re finished with our sparring session, my stomach is begging for me to fill it with a proper dinner. I don’t usually get this hungry after a workout but my session with Kayden had taken quite a toll on my energy.
This man is relentless. Every time Kayden loses a fight, he shakes it off quickly and tries again. When I scrutinize his movements, he digests my advice and tries to do better in the next round. Toward the end of the session, it’s harder to get Kayden to give up. He’s still losing more times than he’s winning, but he’s finally depending on his skills as a talented fighter rather than relying mostly on his weight to crush me.
I think he would have wanted to keep sparring if I hadn’t thrown the towel in and called it a day.
I’m shoving my gloves into my bag and hauling the strap over my shoulder when Kayden emerges from the showers, his dark hair curling with dampness, beads of water falling past his eyes. The number of people in the gym has dwindled as it approaches closing time, so I take it as my cue to leave.
“I’m gonna head out,” I announce to Kayden. “Dying to get something to eat.”
He purses his lips, worry clouding his expression as he debates whether this is a good idea. It’s cute that he thinks I can’t handle myself out there if anything were to happen.
“You sure? It’s getting late and there’s nothing really good around here,” he says. Then he adds, rather quickly,
“I’ll cook you dinner.”
My ears perk up. “Seriously? You would do that for me?”
“Sure. What are you craving?”
“Pan seared fois gras topped with caviar—”
“Seriously,” he mutters, throwing me a warning look.
“What are you craving that I can reasonably make?”
“I’m good with any kind of pasta you can whip up. And it better be healthy if you’re eating too. With lots of lean meat.”
“Yeah, sure. Give me a couple of minutes to pack up.”
“Fine.”
I wait for Kayden by the entrance, trying to tame my hunger by scrolling through my phone, preparing my next cheesy pickup line for when I see Brent tomorrow in class.
When Kayden finally emerges, he jerks his head in the direction of his truck and I follow his lead.
The ride is mostly silent because we’re both slumped from exhaustion. There’s nothing much to say. Or perhaps it’s more like I don’t know what to say to him. I’ve never met a person I felt like I was walking on eggshells around. It feels like every time we’re together, I might just set Kayden off with one wrong word. But at the same time, during those few rare moments when he lets his guard down, there’s a kind of genuineness there that softens me and makes me feel all gooey inside.
When we arrive back at the apartment, Kayden heads straight to the kitchen. He already has a bunch of sauce jars and vegetables laid out in front of his chopping board by the time I get into a fresh set of clothes and join him. When he flips the stove on and chucks the pasta into the boiling water, I’m already salivating.
“How long is it going to take?” I whine, tapping my fingers at the edge of the kitchen counter impatiently. “I’m so hungry I could rip off your arm and eat it.”
“You can try but I don’t think it’s going to be nearly as tasty as this dish.”
“Fine,” I mutter scornfully. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before I go all World War Z on you.”
“Calm down, Lucky. Patience is key.”
“Well, I’m training you, aren’t I? I have a feeling I’m gonna need a lot of that in the upcoming weeks.”