He laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Something like that.”
“Want to show me some of your moves?” I nodded toward the bag.
Ty raised an eyebrow. “What for? You’ve seen me fight.”
“True, but come on,” I prodded, handing him the padded gloves. “Don’t all badasses jump at the opportunity to show off for a girl?”
Ty thought for a minute and then laughed. “Only for the pretty ones,” he said with a wink as he took the gloves from my outstretched hand.
The tips of my ears began to burn, and I gulped down another sip of water to hide the goofy grin on my face.
Jumping to his feet, Ty walked to the corner of the room and grabbed two cotton bands. He wrapped his own hands in record time and strapped the gloves securely to his wrists.
He stepped up to the bag and took a deep breath. He walked slowly around it, almost like an animal stalking its prey, his shoulders tensed in preparation. Then with another deep breath, he struck the bag.
I watched, awestruck, as he moved around it, his arms darting and swinging in perfect precision. His face was a mask of pure concentration, his eyes blazing with intensity. The muscles in his chest and back strained against the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His movements, though clearly practiced and purposeful, were full of power and intensity and looked almost graceful. The intricate patterns of his footwork and the staccato rhythm of his fists making contact with the bag were mesmerizing.
I knew nothing about fighting, what made someone good or bad, but from where I stood, Ty wasn’t just an amazing fighter—he was a force of nature.
I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until Ty delivered a final punch to the bag and whirled around to face me, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes shining and bright.
“Wow,” I managed to force out, snapping my lips back together.
Ty waved his hand in dismissal and walked over to the Igloo again and downed several cups of water.
“No, seriously.” I stood up. “That was amazing.”
He shrugged. “My dad was a good teacher.”
“I can tell. Does he still train with you?”
Ty’s face fell. “No, he, uh . . . he passed away.”
My stomach lurched, like someone had knocked the wind out of me. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s okay,” Ty interrupted. “Really.”
I nodded, though I still felt like a jerk for bringing it up. “I am sorry though.”
Ty sighed and walked back toward the bag, placing his hands tentatively on the fabric, his face pained and thoughtful. I watched him, chewing my bottom lip and silently berating myself for bringing it up. His expression was one I knew well.
I wasn’t sure whether I should say something or just keep my big fat mouth shut. “It’s just my uncle and me,” I finally blurted out.
Ty turned his head, his eyes asking the obvious question.
“Car accident,” I confirmed. “When I was little.”
This time it was Ty who looked sympathetic.
“I don’t remember them much,” I continued softly. “But my uncle says that my laugh is exactly like my dad’s. And that I’m stubborn like my mom.”
A few long seconds passed by.
“He loved corny jokes,” I continued, not really knowing why. “And my mom was a really terrible baker.”
Holy shit, Styles. Could you have made things any more awkward? I looked down at my hands, heat rising in my cheeks. I stood up, trying not to meet Ty’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that.”
“I’m glad you did.” There was something in Ty’s voice that made me look up again. He was still staring, but there was the hint of a smile across his lips. “My dad had a thing for 90s sitcoms.”
The look on his face resonated deep within my core, and I realized that what I heard in his voice, what I was seeing in his eyes, was something I’d never experienced with anyone before: understanding. I smiled back.
My heart was beating ninety to nothing, and I fanned my face with my hand.
“So the street fighting,” I said, wincing at the shrill squeak of my voice. “Why do you do it?”
Ty cocked his head.
“I mean,” I continued, seeing his confusion, “from what I just saw, you could kick someone’s ass in like five seconds. But back in the alley, you let them think they could win.”
“You think I was holding back?”
I rolled my eyes. “I heard you laughing.”
This time it was Ty’s cheeks that turned pink. “You heard that, huh?” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh . . . would you believe me if I said it was fun?”
I pointed at the punching bag. “That thing made me feel like a million bucks, and while I’ve never done it myself, I can see how smashing someone in the face might be equally if not more satisfying.” I giggled at the sheepish expression on his face.
Ty cocked his head and moved to stand in front of me. “You know something, Lainey? You surprise me.” He quickly held up a hand. “In a good way, I mean.”
My smile grew bigger. I wasn’t offended at all. “I could easily say the same for you.” Flirting was not my forte, but somehow I was managing to hold my own. It made my stomach jump around like a game of double Dutch.
“Here,” Ty said, pulling my bundled hands toward him. “Let me.”
With nimble fingers, he expertly unwrapped the bands from my hands. My heart was already beating fast, but as his fingers skimmed my skin, it began to race.
“Thanks,” I said, when he was finished. “For bringing me here today.”
“Of course.” Ty’s voice was low, and it sent a shiver dancing across my skin. As I drew in a shaky breath, he reached out and carefully tucked a loose strand of hair from my ponytail behind my ear. His fingertips grazed my earlobe, and a sharp jolt of electricity shocked us both.
Ty jerked his hand away, and I reached up to smooth my hair. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Damn static cling.” I laughed, but the sound was all wrong.
Ty looked at me for a moment with wide, almost surprised eyes. Then a shadow crossed his face, and he stalked to the corner of the room where we had stashed our belongings. “I should probably be getting you back to school,” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look at me again.
What just happened? I looked down at my empty hands—the hands that seconds before I had imagined entangled in the dark locks that now swept over his eyes. I was hardly an expert on guys, but I’d felt a connection with Ty, and from the look in his eyes, he felt it too. So what had gone wrong? The emptiness pounding in my fingertips was hard to ignore. Frowning, I shoved my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.
“Yeah,” I replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’ve got some studying to do, and Maggie is probably freaking out right now.”
I wanted to say something, apologize for making things weird if that’s what happened, but I had no idea what to say.
Ty turned to me, what looked like a strained smile on his face. “You ready?”