“I think imma need some fighting lessons, girls. Shiiit.”
I muffle a laugh. “Alright, alright, that’s enough.” I wave for them to come in for a huddle. “Desi, if you use that language around Sylvia, she’ll make you run laps.”
“Miss Trixy, you know I save my best bombs just for you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” I say sarcastically.
The kind of kids who show up here at the Community Youth Center are rougher than most. I’m not na?ve enough to think that anything I do will change the path of their lives. I just want to give them a safe place to be themselves without judgment. God knows they’ll get enough of that outside these walls. I’ve seen what they’re capable of when they’re not being forced into a mold, when they’re given choices and their individuality is encouraged. It’s nothing short of a miracle.
“Let’s take a break, and then we’ll come back and work through the routine from the start.” We all put our hands in the middle of a huddle and yell “break.”
They move to the bleachers to grab water, but I head over to Mason. I thought we ended on okay terms last night. It seems ridiculous to be in the same room and not say hello.
“Aww, shit. Miss Trixy’s gonna make her move,” Desi yells, and the rest of the girls dissolve into giggles.
I laugh and scurry to avoid them so they won’t see the pink in my cheeks. My heart pounds a little harder the closer I get, and I convince myself it’s the girls watching me rather than Mason who my body is reacting to.
“Good job, Den!” Mason’s deep voice carries across the space between us. “Keep your hands up. Jab. Left-left-right. Good!”
I stop at the edge of the mat, not wanting to interrupt. He’s on his knees, oval pads strapped to his hands, barefoot. His simple white T-shirt and blue, knee-length exercise shorts add a sexy casualness to his shaggy blond hair. My eyes trace down the rippling muscles of his wide back as it flexes and releases while absorbing Denny’s blows.
“Yeah, bud, you got this! In ten years, you’ll be takin’ my job.”
Spurred on by Mason’s words, Denny’s face tightens in concentration, shiny with sweat, as he grunts through every punch. One and then the other, he fires his tiny fists into the pads until he drops his arms, panting.
“Alright, who’s next?” Mason rocks back to the balls of his feet and pushes to standing with a fluidity I’ve never seen on a man of his size. He turns and his eyes catch mine. They register surprise then cautious curiosity. “Trix.”
“Mason, hey.” I step onto the blue mats and cross to him. “I noticed you over here and wanted to say hi.”
He hands the pads he was holding up for Denny to Leon. “Hey, man, you mind holding these for the next guy?” Leon nods excitedly and slips on the pads. After a quick instruction from Mason, he goes down on his knees to take punches.
Mason turns his attention back to me, his towering frame seeming so much bigger now, maybe because I’m not wearing my heels.
“I’m glad you came over. I have to say”—he casts his gaze around quickly—“I didn’t take you for the volunteering type,” he whispers.
I shrug. “Eh . . . condition of my parole. It was this or pick up trash on the side of the freeway.”
His smile fades. “Parole? Really?”
“No.”
He grips his chest and shakes his head, a low chuckle rumbling from his wide chest. “Damn, I was gonna say . . . You’re full of surprises.”
I survey the gym and shrug. “I like the kids, and you know I like to dance so . . .”
“You’re training the next generation of strippers, huh?” He immediately cringes. “Sorry, that was supposed to be a joke.”
I wave him off. “Yeah, I got that. Funny.” An awkward silence builds between us, and my eyes dart everywhere to avoid getting lost in his square jaw and full lips. “So you’re one of the UFL guys. I’ve seen a few of them come through here. Cool thing you guys are doing.”
“Wish I could say I came here by choice, but our boss is a demanding ass and forces us.”
His statement stabs me with a sliver of disappointment, but I’m not completely sure why. “Give it a chance. You’ll learn to love it.”
“I can see that.” His face goes serious, and he moves in close. “Listen. I wanted to talk to you about last night, but you took off so fast. About my phone—”
“Oh, yeah”—my cheeks heat—“I feel really bad about that.”
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have blown up at you the way I did. I had just come from . . . You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He meets my eyes. “It was uncool and I’m sorry.”
“No biggie, really.” I turn to look over my shoulder at my girls, who are all staring with open mouths. “Listen, do you want to have lunch with us later?”
“Lunch?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t even think to bring anything.”
“That’s okay. I’ll share mine.”