I sigh and turn to my next partner.
The last few rounds fly by. And as much as I hate to admit it, Tristan is right. Being arrogant—even if I'm faking it—immediately causes my nerves to dissipate and stops my tendency to overthink. It allows me to freely move as I want, since I no longer think aboutwhat ifevery move is wrong. I just… roll.
I allow myself a quick glance at Tristan as that realization once again reminds me that Tristan was made for this sport. Not just because of his talent, but also because of his coaching ability. He was born to be a leader. He knows exactly what to say to any given athlete to help them in their training because he pays attention and he gives a shit. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he admitted to watching me in the last tournament because that’s the most Tristan admission there is—he’s the guy you want in your corner because he always has your back.
I should’ve realized it sooner. I should’ve known when I watched him corner fighters and coach kids at tournaments.
I should’ve given him more credit a long time ago.
I’m starving by the time the hour ends. I turn toward Aiden and Lucy with hopeful eyes. "Burger House? I might eat my shirt if I don't get some food in me soon."
They laugh but nod in agreement. Aiden looks over my shoulder at Tristan.
"What do you say, big dog, wanna get lunch?"
I stifle a giggle as I hear Tristan choke on his water. "Big dog?" he splutters.
Aiden grins but shrugs, unashamed. "Just trying it out. No go?"
Tristan glares at him, every ounce the stoic fighter that you shouldn't fuck with. "No," he says firmly. "No go. And if you come up with any others, I'm putting you on bag drills for a week straight. One thousand kicks before you can leave, every night. On each side."
At that, Aiden winces. "Okay, okay, no nicknames. Jeez. I thought we were all friendly after last night." Tristan only glares at him again. "No burger then?"
Tristan glances at me before answering. "No burger. I have a kid coming in for a private lesson in a few minutes. Rain check."
I hide my frown that automatically wants to appear on my face when I miss an opportunity to spend time with Tristan.
And then internally shake the hell out of myself for acting like a teenage girl.
We shower quickly and then head out the front door, the gym already empty of students. But just as I'm about to follow Lucy out, I see a flash of movement in the mat room. I peek around the corner to see who's still working out.
Tristan is showing a little boy how to fall. It's the first lesson everyone in jiu-jitsu learns, since you will undoubtedly fall in this sport—a lot—and there is definitely a right way and a wrong way to do it. Tristan's showing him how to slap the mat with his palms when he falls.
The little boy, no more than five or six, is giggling as he topples over. He's not listening to a word Tristan's saying, he’s just happy to be throwing himself on the mats.
But Tristan isn't forcing him. He just lets the boy fall again—still the wrong way—before telling him, "Here, let me show you what you look like." And then he makes a funny face and exaggerates falling down, this time looking more like a fainting damsel than a well-trained athlete. The boy's giggles intensify into loud belly laughs at the sight.
With a grin, Tristan stands back up. "That looked silly, right?" he asks him. The little boy nods. "Let's do it the right way this time. Do you want to try?" Another nod. "Good. I want you to try doing it like this: fall on your butt and then slap the mat with your hands. Ready?"
Giggles subsiding, the little boy looks at Tristan with newfound determination. With his nose scrunched in deep concentration, he falls backwards, slapping the mats exactly the way Tristan showed him.
Tristan lets out a loud whoop. He grabs the little boy and throws him up in the air, offering them both a quick moment of celebration. Giggles once again sound through the gym.
Tristan sets him back down on his feet. "All right, show me one more time. Let me see if you can do it even better the second time."
"Remy!" someone yells from behind me.
I jump so hard I'm surprised my feet don't actually leave the ground. "What?" I hiss.
Lucy is staring at me with one eyebrow raised in question. "What're you doing?" she finally asks. "We're waiting for you."
I fight the urge to glance back at the mat room. "I, um, thought I forgot my phone," I stammer. "But I found it. So… I'm good to go."
Lucy's eyes narrow suspiciously but she doesn't say anything else. Just jerks her head for me to get moving.
Once her back is turned, I chance a quick look back at the remaining people in the gym. Tristan is grinning, looking completely at ease and happy. There’s no tension in his shoulders, no cold mask on his face, no arrogance on his lips. He's just… happy.
A feeling of genuine happiness fills me at the sight. My heart swells with the emotion and it feels like it'll take over my entire body, filling every crack and crevice of my soul until nothing but my happiness at his joy remains. It completely overwhelms me.