I whirled around to see Aaron deck someone. After the less-experienced fighter fell, he didn’t waste any time advancing on him. There was something fascinating about the animalistic urge that drove him further and further from civilized. The way he fought—the way he hit him—was so raw. Untamed. Out of control.
War spun in his eyes as he gave way to a darker side—a side of him that didn’t answer to morality, or any sense of right and wrong. It was a part I doubted he recognized. As blood covered his hands, it was increasingly familiar to me.
Avery grabbed the back of his shirt and ripped him backwards. Aaron lunged once more, but Coach was fast—faster than Amber. He grabbed him in a headlock with power I’d scarcely seen before.
Aaron instantly went slack as the anger that had pushed him to fight left as fast as it had come. The boy on the ground wasn’t faring quite as well.
“This is my gym, and you two are replaceable. How about instead of acting like chest-banging gorillas, you actually do something beneficial before I kick both of you out!” Avery roared. “White, I want you with Foster on weights. Show her what to do and spot her while I deal with this moron over here.” He grunted, releasing Aaron.
Aaron turned to me and wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. With dark eyes flashing and the whole after-fight-vengeance thing going on, he looked kind of hot. I still couldn’t stand him—solely based on his man-whoring attitude and pain-in-the-ass arrogance—but there wasn’t any denying that he was more than just a little easy on the eyes. I laughed quietly to myself as he crossed the distance between us and came to stand in front of me.
“What was that about?” I asked, only minimally curious.
“Nothing, just John not knowing his place,” he replied, though his glance toward me said otherwise. “Have you ever bench pressed before?” he asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.
I shook my head.
“Okay, well, what you’re going to do is lie back on the bench, plant your feet firmly, and hold the bar about here,” he said, motioning to his chest.
“I gathered that much,” I said.
He shot me a look before continuing. “And when you lift it, you want to go straight up until your arms lock then come back down.” He got on the bench and demonstrated before motioning for me to try.
I got on the bench and copied his posture. He handed me the bar, and I held it precisely where he’d told me, going through the motions. “This isn’t exactly difficult,” I said.
“Let me see it.” He took the bar out of my hands and set it on the rack.
I wasn’t paying attention to exactly how much weight he added, but when he gave it back, I could feel the difference immediately.
“Try that,” he said smugly.
I started lifting again, but after several reps, I couldn’t ignore how heavy my arms were. They seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each, and they were only getting heavier.
“How much weight did you put on here?” I complained.
“Forty pounds. Why, too heavy?” He smirked.
“Not at all,” I lied. I continued for a few more minutes in sweet silence before he broke it.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” I said.
“What did I do to piss you off?”
I thought about my answer before responding. “How do you know this isn’t just my personality? That I’m not just a bitch?” I countered.
“You’re not a bitch, you just don’t put up with bullshit, but I can tell you have a problem with me,” he insisted. For a cocky, self-centered fool, he actually didn’t sound too stupid right now.
“Who said I have a problem with you?”
“It’s obvious.” The note of seriousness in his voice struck me.
I thought for a moment. “I don’t particularly like you, but I wouldn’t say that I have a problem with you.”
“But what did I do?” he asked as if he needed to know the answer.
“You want to know what you did?” I said, handing him the bar and sitting up. “Nothing. You did absolutely nothing. You were yourself, and I just don’t like you. I think you’re obscenely arrogant and shallow. It’s nothing personal, really, and it shouldn’t bother you, but it obviously does. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get done.”
His mouth popped open in disbelief, and anger flared in his dark eyes. I was tired of this conversation. If he didn’t want the truth, he shouldn’t have asked.
“We still have a project due Friday. Will you at least meet me at lunch tomorrow in the library to get it done?” This time it seemed like he’d honestly gotten the clue. He spoke deceptively soft, but his eyes were elsewhere, looking everywhere but at me.
“Sure,” I said, walking away without even looking back.
Which was when it dawned on me: the green-eyed boy hadn’t even shown up for practice.
~.~.~
“How are we going to do this?”
I was sitting in a library, wasting my time with one of the most uninteresting Supernaturals on campus. Needless to say, my opinion of Aaron hadn’t improved overnight.
“Do you actually know anything about Supernaturals?” he asked me.
I watched the way he examined me, looking for deceptions or clues. He was the same as everyone here, trying to unravel the mystery of Selena Foster. I stayed silent for a minute, challenging his gaze. Truthfully, I knew a lot—a lot more then I was letting on, anyway.
“Nope,” I lied.
He scratched some things down on a piece of paper and slid it across the table to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“This is the layout for our project.”
I pushed it back toward him. “I’ve got a better idea. You tell me what you need, and I’ll go find it,” I suggested with a smirk.
His rolled his eyes. Apparently, he found my idea of partnering aggravating.
“I need you to find a book on the differences between humans and Supernaturals.” He sighed.
I got up and left the table to look for the librarian. After a few minutes of walking up and down numerous aisles, I stumbled across her. She was a short, dark-haired woman who seemed rather flustered.
“I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction?” I asked her, trying to put on my most charming attitude.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something about the differences between humans and Supernaturals. I have a report due in health . . . ”
She considered my request for a minute then her arm, as if it weren’t part of her body, stretched. It was as if she didn’t have any bones. It snaked down the row and around the corner. A few seconds later, it came back with a book and shrank back into her arm.
“Try this. I think you’ll find it useful.” She flashed me a smile.
“Thank you, Miss . . . ?”
“Rivas,” she answered warmly.
“Miss Rivas, thank you.” I smiled and tried to find my way back to Aaron. I wandered for another minute or two before coming across our table. He was writing something. I walked up behind him silently and looked over his shoulder. He already had a page written, and I hadn’t even given him the book. I got the impression he hadn’t really needed it, but it had given me something to do.
“If you want to know what I’m doing, just ask.”
“How did you know I was behind you?”
“I heard you,” he said.
“How did you—?”
“I can hear a pin drop a mile away. I can smell a girl’s perfume from across campus. I can even see every single hair on your head right now. My ability isn’t something you can see, but I have enhanced senses.”
I froze.
Literally. Stopped. Breathing.
Enhanced senses. The ability I supposedly had. The ability to be better than average at all the trademark characteristics but not specialized in anything that counted. It seemed fitting for him, but I was an imposter. I might’ve had better senses then
most, but I was by no means as developed as he was. I excelled in strength, speed, and reflexes. Things that were physical and could be improved through effort—sight, sound, and smell weren’t in that mix. I stayed completely still for the two-point-five seconds it took me to analyze that. Two-point-five seconds that I simply stared. Two-point-five seconds that he misunderstood, while staring back.
Two-point-five seconds before he moved.
He stood and turned toward me until he loomed over me. His lips parted, and he leaned in . . . and then he was on the ground. He clutched his face gingerly. Splayed across the right side of it was a bright red and purple handprint where I’d slapped him.
“You can finish the project on your own,” I spat, dropping the book.
I walked out of the library and tried not to break the door when I slammed it behind me.
Chapter 15
“So who’s your admirer?” Alexandra pestered.
It was Friday, and I was having dinner with them like I’d promised.
“Huh?” I said as I picked at the lettuce in my salad.
“The guy you skipped lunch with yesterday, in the library?” she said encouragingly. It sounded more like an interrogation. Fancy that.
“How did you know that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Not important. Who is he?”
“No one.”
“I don’t believe that for a se—”
I cut her off with a gesture. “Believe me when I say he’s no one,” I said, ending the subject.
“So did I tell you guys I started horseback riding with Bella?” Lily said.
“Why?” we said in unison.
“A lot of kids ride horses here.” She shrugged.
“But you hate horses,” I pointed out.
“I don’t hate them. I just never really cared for them,” she said in self-defense.
“No, I’m pretty sure you hate them. You have since you were four,” I said, and she glared at me.
“She’s just trying to fit in, not be a loser for once.” Alexandra yawned for effect.
“Oh, shut up, Alexandra,” I snapped.
“What? If she wants to make herself miserable in exchange for not being a total loser, let her.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m not a total loser, and I’m not miserable,” she argued feebly, throwing a nasty glare at Alexandra.
“Then what are you?”
Lily didn’t answer.
“Pathetic, that’s what you are—”
“Stop it. I don’t want to hear your bickering. Do neither of you get that?”
Now it was their turn stay quiet.
“I agreed to have dinner, not to listen to you two arguing nonstop or be questioned about what I do in my spare time,” I said, eyeing Alexandra.
“Okay, like, what is your problem, Selena?” Alexandra said. “Fighting is supposed to make it so that you’re not—”
“My problem is that I’m sick of listening to you two going at each other every time you’re together for more than five minutes—and, no, Alexandra, boxing doesn’t fix everything. It makes it better. It doesn’t fix it,” I hissed. She thought she knew. As if she could actually understand how I felt. What it was like to be me. She was sadly mistaken.
“We don’t argue every time we’re together for more than five minutes,” Lily piped up.
What? I wanted to scream, but thinking of my self-control, I shot her an annoyed look instead. They’d just been arguing, and now she was defending her? This was just—
I am losing my fucking mind.
“You know, maybe Alexandra’s right . . . Boxing used to help, but maybe—” Lily went on.
No. You can’t seriously be saying— you wouldn’t dare. Not after what I am doing for you—for both of you.
I was so infuriated; I didn’t trust myself not to react. To snap. It would be so easy . . . so easy. To let go.
“I’m not listening to this,” I growled. Fury had me, and I wasn’t listening to anything anymore. I stood to leave before I did something I would regret.
“Selena—” Lily pleaded.
“No.” They didn’t know what it was like to be different. Truly different. When you were so powerful that it could put you on the edge of losing control. Losing your mind.
“Just forget it, Lily. If she wants to—”
I left before I could hear the rest. I couldn’t believe them. After all we’d been through . . . We’d even talked about this. I told them I had it under control, and I did. They didn’t believe me. They didn’t trust me. I wanted to scream. It was one thing for them to bicker, and another to think I was losing it. And not just that, but letting it control me. I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. They were naïve children to think it. I was better than that; smarter. I would beat the chaos that raged inside me. Somehow.
Outside near the fountain, I sat down and sighed, looking up at the stars.
“Why did you do this to me?” I whispered, but no answer came.
Chapter 16
It was Monday. A week and a half had passed without me talking to my sisters, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the need to. I didn’t want to. I’d thought they understood me, or at least tried to, but they didn’t understand a damn thing. Besides, they had their own lives now. Lives that didn’t involve me.
I had a life too now—one where I spent every waking hour at the gym, even when no one was there. I went before and after school, skipped dinner, and stayed until two or three in the morning. It didn’t matter—if I was awake, I was there.
Nothing had changed in the last week and a half. Aaron stared at me half the time, and avoided me the other half. I preferred the latter. Avery still hadn’t let me in the ring since that first match, and I was beginning to wonder if he was nervous about what I might do. Since starting, it had become increasingly clear that I was leagues ahead of most boxers, even here. I was the fastest, and my reflexes were as good as Aaron’s—maybe even better. But I was a wild card in Coach Avery’s eyes. Unleash me, and there was no telling what I might do. Images of the green-eyed boy flashed through my mind.
He still hadn’t come back. Word around the gym was that he was taking a break, but I wondered how many nights he was spending replaying that to himself. Probably twice as many as I was. I hated that I’d let him get to me, get under my skin, but his eyes . . . they were all I could see at night. He was such a puzzle to me, unlike other men. He was different. I could feel it. I didn’t know what different meant. Was it just his ability or was there more?
You punched him, I reminded myself. Knocked him out stone cold, to be accurate. That fleeting conversation in the ring is probably the only conversation you’ll ever have. I doubt he’ll even look at you after that little stunt, I reassured myself.
I wasn’t supposed to be distracted by anyone. The sooner he realized I was bad news, the better.
I walked through the door of the gym, and the sound of familiar rap lyrics filled my head. Without even thinking about it, the guys cleared me a spot on the mat. They knew my routine by now. None of them gave me cautious looks, or made jokes anymore—I’d beat them as blue as the mat if they did.
I dropped into a split, doing my usual warmup. Afterward, I got a jump rope and started the timer. I fell into step with the beat as I jumped. Jumping rope had never been my favorite exercise, but if doing more of these got me off the bench, I was all for it. I was still thinking about it when the timer went off, and I knew I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I put the rope and timer away before walking over to the bench.
“Foster,” Coach Avery called.
I smiled to myself and turned to walk over. Finally. He was going to take me off the bench and actually let me do something productive.
I hesitated for a second, and by hesitated, I mean stopped dead in my tracks. He was there. The green-eyed boy was standing there, watching me intently. I made my feet move again and crossed the space between us.
“I want you to increase the weight to one
-ten. It’s getting too easy for you.”
I tried to keep the grimace off my face as I turned to go. I was strong, strong enough to knock a man twice my weight unconscious—I didn’t understand the need to lift weights. But, without a word, I piled on the weights, straining to hear their conversation.
“Is she any good?” the guy asked.
“Good enough to knock you cold,” Avery grunted.
“You know I wasn’t actually fighting her. How the hell was I supposed to know she was the real deal? I’ve fought guys twice her size who couldn’t hit that hard.”
“She’s good,” he said, and I smiled to myself. I might’ve been here because of a promise, but I took pride in myself. To the point of arrogance, occasionally.
There was silence for a few seconds, and I realized I was standing there, just staring at the weights.
“So where’d she come from?” he asked when I started lifting.
“I don’t know. She’s not much of a talker.”
I could tell they were still watching me.
“She have a name?” Why was he so interested?
You have no room to talk, my subconscious criticized. I glared at the bar in my hand.
“Selena Foster.” My head instinctively turned toward them, and they stopped talking as they moved across the room out of earshot. I turned my head back to face the ceiling and kept working.
I lifted my arms again and again, refusing to stop. If I stopped, I might not start again. My arms ached and my hands were already trembling. Any longer and I might drop it, but I wouldn’t stop. I had to go through it.; I had to do this. I refused to show weakness in a place where it was unacceptable.
The trembling got worse, and the bar shook in the air. Sweat coated my hands from a too-tight grip, and the bar slid. Before I could stop it, my other hand lost its grip, and the bar was falling, crashing, tumbling through space . . . A steady hand swiped it from out of the air and placed it on the rack.
My hands were still shaking when they fell to my sides. I took a deep breath before trying to lift them. I couldn’t. Physically, I just couldn’t move then anymore. I slumped back onto the bench.
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