“It’s just me over here, and I needed the space for this. My bed and dresser and shit fit fine in the second bedroom.”
“Huh.” She went further into the room and took a good look.
Hanging on the far wall was a long shelf with about a dozen brass hooks beneath it. Above it hung a row of square shadow boxes, each one holding a medal on a ribbon. The shelf was crowded with trophies of various sizes; the hooks held a mishmash of different workout-themed stuff, like jump ropes, those weird things like rubber scarves, the rubber tube things with handles. She had a couple of those; they’d come in a Target gift set she’d gotten for Christmas a couple years ago at the work party: yoga mat, inflatable yoga ball, two rubber bricks, and two of those stretchy things.
It was still in the box at the back of her closet. Yoga was not her thing. The pants were great, though.
Also hanging on those hooks were two hunks of white cotton. She figured them for karate pajamas, or whatever they were called. A black belt was draped over both hooks.
“You said you were a black belt,” she said as she crossed the room to get a better look at the belt and the trophies on the shelf.
“Third degree, yeah,” he said from right behind her. He’d followed her across the room.
The trophies were arranged in chronological order. The first, and smallest, readMost Improvedand had a date almost thirty years ago. Cooper looked to be about her age, somewhere in the early-to-mid thirties range, with just a few strands of grey in his dark hair and beard. “You started really young.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. My old man got me into it when I was about six, looking for a way to toughen me up.”
She looked back at him. “You needed toughening when you were six?” His father sounded like an asshole.
He shrugged. “I had a few strikes working against me, going to school in Oklahoma. I’m mixed. Not enough of anything to be part of anywhere, and we were poor as fuck on top of it, so ... yeah. Got bullied by the Native kids for not being Native enough, by the white kids for not being white enough, and there weren’t any other Latino kids in my school at all, but they probably would’ve come for me for not being Latino enough. Got it for my ratty clothes, not having the cool backpack, not having the right lunch, you name it. I was little, too, and skinny. School was a fucking nightmare from day one until the day I put Stevie Shackleford on the ground and made him stay there.”
He grinned like he was telling a funny story, not a poignant one, but Siena, up to her ears in her sister’s bullying trauma, felt the fire of the same mama-bear rage for five-year-old Cooper.
She managed a smile because it seemed like he needed it not to be a big deal. “When was that?”
“Third grade. I felt like a superhero, and BJJ was my superpower. Chased it as fast as I could after that, maxed out the junior belts. Got my first-degree black as soon as I was old enough.”
The trophies at the other side of the shelf were much larger and more ornate. Actual metal, some glass. The medal in the last shadow box was large and ornate as well. Squinting up at it, she could readCooper Calderon – 2007 Oklahoma Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Champion.
“You really are all that,” she said.
Another chuckle from behind her. “I was, yeah.”
“And not humble about it,” she teased, turning to him.
“Confident. I know what I can do.” His grin took on a wry point. “But I also know if I stepped onto a tournament mat right now, I’d get my ass handed to me. It’s been a long time since I trained that hard.”
“Life gets in the way,” Siena mused, thinking of all the things she’d lost or given up to contend with the roadblocks and pitfalls of her life.
“Yeah. It does,” Cooper said, his smile shrinking but his eyes still fixed on hers. Another of those flashes of intense chemistry happened, when Siena was sure he meant to kiss her, and they stood there, silent and rapt. She felt a pull as powerful as an electric charge and knew that if he leaned in, she would, too.
She wanted him to kiss her. In herbody, she wanted it. Warmth pooled and swirled on the floor of her belly andoh shit, she remembered this feeling. That good, deep heat, and the throb of her blood, low and moving lower. This was desire. She wasturned on.Physically.
Then Cooper blinked and shook his head—just a quick shake, like he was ridding himself of a pesky fly ... or an unwanted thought.
“I can show you a couple moves, if you want,” he said. “Just a sample.”
Her first burst of real physical arousal in five years had Siena zinging, but disappointment had her reeling, and the combination made her dizzy. Cooper hadn’t felt the same thing—or if he had, he hadn’t wanted it, didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t want her. She was half a woman at most. Less than half, really. All the woman parts were gone. She was ... what? A eunuch? Automaton? Unwoman?
Whatever she was, she wasn’t desirable. That was hardly news, but it hit hard right now.
Trying to get on top of her roiling emotions and sensations without letting the turmoil show, Siena cleared her throat and stuck a smile back on her face. “Um ... sure. If you don’t mind?”
“It was my idea. Gimme five to get out of jeans.”
He turned and left the room.
Siena felt the strangest urge to cry.