Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I’m telling ya, it’s magic,” Law says.
Right. Magic. Perhaps the same spell Reed’s under.
While I was on the phone, the dojo has filled up, so Law gestures to the front of the room.
“You still okay with being my guinea pig?”
I narrow my eyes. “Just so you know, legally you’re classed as a deadly weapon. You hurt me, I’ll know it’s not an accident.”
“Why would I want to hurt my boyfriend’s best friend?” he taunts.
“Have no idea. I’m delightful, dammit.”
He should have no reason to still hate me, but maybe it’s like me. We get under each other’s skin for the mere reason that first impressions last.
We take our spots in the front of the class while Reed waits by the door to greet latecomers.
Law thanks everyone and explains a little about what his objective is going forwards and how he wants to expand his dojo for the increasing need.
I have to admit, I admire the fuck out of him for what he does.
It reminds me once again that I chased a career that pays a lot to impress a man I’ve been told is unimpressible.
People like Law and my sister do what they do to help other people, and it doesn’t cease to amaze me that the backbone of society relies on selfless people doing good deeds for little return.
And here I am, representing the scum of the earth. Go me!
Law snaps me out of the existential crisis that’s been filling my head for days if not weeks. “Attack me,” he says.
“Uh, you want me to do what now?”
Everyone in the room breaks into small laughter.
“Come at me.” Law lowers his voice. “I know you want to.”
I do. I really do. But I’m not stupid. He’s a however many black belt kung fu master. He almost went to the Olympics for judo.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promises.
With a defeated sigh, I reach for his throat as if to choke him. Law swats my hand away as if shooing a fly.
“Try harder than that,” Law says, and everyone laughs again.
This time, I grip tight. It only takes him a few extra seconds to get out of my hold. He explains how he does it to the class and then turns back to me.
“Tackle me.”
I roll my eyes but do it.
The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back after being flipped over Law’s body. I land on the mats, so it doesn’t hurt, but it’s still a shock to the system.
Law grins above me. “You okay?”
Smartass.
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
After the fifth time of landing on the ground, I’ve had about enough. But no matter how hard I try, Law keeps evading me. Which, logically, I expect. It’s just so freaking frustrating.
It does distract me from one thing though—and that’s watching the door for Anders to come back. Which he doesn’t.
At the end of the class, when I realise he’s not going to show, disappointment and worry are replaced by anger.
I understand he has issues, but if this is the game he’s going to play, I’m out. I refuse to play it.
13
Anderson
“Sometimes you meet someone and your souls connect. Your heart and mind identify familiarity, comfort, and safety. That’s something you haven’t had for a long time, Anders.”
“Yeah, and sometimes I think you’re full of shit, Karen.”
My therapist laughs, because she knows I’m joking … mostly.
“I don’t see how I can feel safe with a man who reminds me of the guy who hurt me. Like, isn’t that fucked up? Isn’t that like rape victims who then seek out rough sex? It’s … wrong somehow.”
“As a therapist who sees this psychological conditioning often, I can tell you that behaviour is perfectly healthy and normal. Your brain is trying to replace a negative experience with a positive one, which is probably why it’s attached to the idea of being intimate with Brody.”
“But once it was over, I freaked out. Like … broke down in the shower and cried type of freak out. I could barely face him, and well”—I wave my hand between us—“hence annoying you on a Saturday.”
“And how was the intimacy?”
“Why, Dr. Fletcher, are you asking me if my roommate is a terrific lay? That’s mighty pervy of you.”
“And that’s mighty deflective.”
“Yup.” I wink and shoot a finger gun at her, because that’s how I deal with shit I don’t want to face—I become awkward.
“That good, huh? You had no … issues in that department? I know in the past—”
“I assure you, my dick was fully on board. More so than any other part of my body that tried to protest.”
“So there was hesitance and some anxiety there.”
I nod. “I worked through it like you told me though. Challenged the thought process.”
“And it helped?”
“Until it was over, yeah.”
“What happened when it was over?”
Karen’s questions don’t throw me like they used to. It took a long while for me to open up to her, but now it’s second nature. Plus, there’s no point trying to hold back. She’ll get it out of me one way or another. Generally by asking the same thing with softer words or with a leading question.