Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
"You're fucking around."
"No, I'm not." Yes, I am.
"Then get that playful note out of your voice and take this seriously. I'm trying to help you. Or were you lying when you said you wanted to feel more confident so a random guy on the street doesn't scare you out of your mind?"
The dismissive, almost hateful way he says it snaps me out of my stupidity. "Fine," I snarl. "Show me. What would you do if you were an attacker?"
"I would go at you like this." He's like a snake striking, lunging all at once, with no warning. The way an actual attacker would. His hands are around my neck before I know what's happening, and he pins me against the wall with his elbows against my ribs.
"Now try to fight me," he growls, his face dangerously close to mine. "Come on. Show me what you've got. Try to kick me in the balls, Tatum."
I can't. I can't even lift my leg, much less make contact. All I can do is fight, but that's no use—I can only hit him from the sides, pounding my fists against his shoulders and ribs. I might as well be hitting air for all the good it does. Panic blooms in my head and wants to overwhelm me. I'm going to scream. I feel it rising, wanting to tear its way out of me.
"Open your eyes. Look at me." I have to force myself to do it, but I'm glad I did when it's Romero's face I look into. His eyes I find in front of me. Not Kristoff's dark, hate-filled gaze. The screaming in my head softens, and I can breathe again. He's not going to hurt me. This is pretend.
All at once, he loosens up and I can breathe again. "Okay, now you get the idea," he says, and he's gentler now. "If I'm attacking you, I will ensure you can't move too much. And if you try to kick me in the balls, I'm going to do like I did before." He pulls his hips back, which means he presses more weight against my throat. "It's only going to hurt you worse. Now, how would you try to get out of this? You have more room to move your arms and legs. What would you do?"
I've seen it before on TV. I lace my fingers together and try to drive my arms up between his in a sudden, sharp movement. All he does is lock his elbows—he's so strong, there's no hope no matter how I fight.
"That was a good try," he tells me, even though I feel like a failure. "But here's a better way. Relax your body."
"Sure, easy for you to say."
"You have to. You just have to. Got it?" I only roll my eyes but nod. "Now, I want you to pivot on your right foot. You're going to bring your hip around in a quarter circle, swing your left arm up and around, then slam it down against my elbows."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I admit. It's all a little confusing.
"We'll switch places, and I'll show you." He turns around and touches his back to the wall. "Put your hands around my throat and outstretch your arms, locking your elbows."
"You sure you trust me? How many times have I wanted to do this?"
"Something tells me I'll be safe." That's what he thinks. I sort of like the way it feels to wrap my hands around his throat. It's almost too tempting, the impulse to squeeze hard. "Now, watch what I do."
He moves slowly, pivoting like he described, until he's standing sideways rather than facing me. His left arm comes up and around, then slams down against the insides of my elbows so suddenly, it unlocks them, and I let go.
"Then, here's what you do." Now, he has my left wrist in his right hand and pulls me down until I'm bent at the waist so his left elbow can drive into my nose. He stops just short of making contact. "You're going to keep doing this until you can't do it anymore."
"That's great, really," I admit once he lets go and I stand up straight. "But there's no way I'll be able to remember that if I'm in the middle of being attacked.
My words are falling on deaf ears. "We're going to practice that, and then we'll learn another move." It's like I didn't say anything at all, but I guess that shouldn't be a surprise. He's ignored and disregarded me for as long as we've known each other.
"I wish I had known more about this before," I admit as we go through the motions again and again. At first, I'm slow and clumsy, but he remains patient. I never imagined him being this patient. I always thought he had a hair-trigger temper.