Bad Coach (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (Forbidden Romance)

by Claire Adams

  I hurried from the school, and got in my car. I drove probably a little too fast in order to get to my apartment. I wanted to change and get some other items before I headed to the gym. It was the day that I was to teach Natalie more self-defense, and I was running late. I didn't want her to show up there, and think that I had blown her off. That was the last thing I wanted. She would probably not give me another chance to spend time with her, and she was already busting my balls over it. She wasn't the type of girl to give too many second chances. I pulled up to my apartment, and rushed inside the building. The door was already unlocked so I didn't need to worry about digging around for keys. I pushed through the door, and saw Kyle in the kitchen cooking lunch. It was a nice change of pace to see him someplace other than in front of a video game.

  I rushed down the hall into my bedroom and pulled drawers open to get the stuff I needed for the gym. I cursed myself for not just bringing it all with me to class, but I thought I would have plenty of time afterwards to come home and get what I needed. When I had what I needed, I hurried back out into the living room, and put everything into my gym bag. I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing some water bottles and throwing them in my bag as well.

  “Hey man, what are you in such a hurry for?”

  I grabbed my bag and head for the door, and as I swung it open, I shouted over my shoulder, “Natalie,” and left it at that.

  As the door closed behind me, I heard Kyle say, “Of course.” I knew my friends couldn’t figure out what I was doing with Natalie, or why I hadn't just dropped her after I slept with her. I couldn't explain it myself, but I didn't owe Kyle or anyone else any answers. I was just living my life and seeing how things went on my own. Once I had it all figured out, I would start discussing it with others. At the rate I was going anyway, the girl probably wouldn't be talking to me much anymore.

  When I walked into the gym, I scanned the area immediately, and saw Natalie on the far end of the gym on the bench. A few of my teammates were talking to her while she was waiting. I was extremely pleased to see that she hadn't completely abandoned me, when I didn't show up on time, but something akin to jealousy rose up in me when I saw guys talking with her. I didn't want any of my friends anywhere near her―she was all mine. Or at least, I was trying to make her mine, but she certainly wasn't making it easy on me. I hurried over to where she was sitting, and she turned as she saw me approaching.

  “Hey, beautiful. Thanks for sticking around. I'm sorry I'm late; class ran a little late.”

  “Oh, and here I thought you never bothered with class.”

  “I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?”

  She giggled. “Well, well, well. So what are we doing today?”

  I looked over at the guys standing by watching. “Hey guys, how ya doing? I'm just going to borrow this beauty for a bit.” They chuckled at me and walked away, taking the hint rather nicely.

  “Does everyone just listen to everything you say?”

  I faced her again. “Well not everyone, darling.”

  “Touché.”

  I offered my hand to her. She took it, and I pulled her up from the bench she sat on. “Well, shall we?”

  She nodded, and we headed away from where the guys were training. I wanted her all to myself, and I didn't need any of the other guys offering their services. We went over to the octagon cage and went inside. No one would bother us there, and I would be assured that she would be mine for at least an hour.

  “So what’s your plan for me for today?”

  “I think we are going to try a different approach. I'm going to show you how to punch someone properly and then how to defend yourself against a punch.”

  “Really? You think I can learn to punch? Is that really going to help me defend myself against an attacker?”

  I laughed. “Of course it will. Besides, I think that we are going to do something a little more fun today. Hopefully it will make you want to come back for more.”

  “Oh, is that your hope?”

  I walked over to her and stood real close. I could practically feel the heat coming off of her. She blinked rapidly at me, suddenly aware of the heat between us.

  “Yes, Natalie, that is my hope,” I whispered.

  “Okay, down boy. Let's get down to business. I don't have all day.”

  I stood before her and enjoyed her closeness a moment longer before I turned from her. I went to my bag, which was on the side of the cage. I pulled out some gloves and brought them to her.

  “These might be a tad big on you, but they will do for now,” I helped her slip them on, and I tied them up. I thought she looked hot as hell wearing them, but I kept it to myself for now.

  She caught my look and said, “What?”

  I smirked. “Nothing; do they feel alright to you?”

  She nodded, looking down at her gloves.

  I put on some focus mitts and faced her again. “Okay, just like I showed you before. Your left hand is your jab, and your right had is your straight or cross. When I hold up a focus mitt, you will hit it with the appropriate punch. Just like I showed you last time. Jab, jab, jab. Or jab, jab, cross.”

  She looked slightly confused, so I slowed things down for her. “Just take it easy and we will go slowly for now.”

  She nodded, but she had a hint of a smile on her face, and I thought for a moment that she might actually be enjoying herself.

  We spent the training session going through various combinations with the focus mitt. She actually had a pretty solid right hand as we continued working on it. We threw in some hooks as well, but those had been a little confusing for her to put together right away. So we focused for the most part on the first two for now.

  “Go grab a drink of water, beautiful, and then I'll show you how to defend the same punches.” I helped her take off the gloves, and she turned from me to leave the cage. She looked over her shoulder before leaving the cage, with a quizzical look on her face. “Do you really think I'm beautiful?” Her question caught me off guard. I smiled. “I've never seen anything like you, and that's the honest truth.”

  She met my eyes and held my gaze for a moment, before turning back to the door and walking out. She hadn't responded to me, and I watched as she walked to the water cooler and took a drink. She was only gone for a minute before she started walking back toward me. She didn't speak to me again for the entire training session. I wasn't sure if it was the comment that rendered her silent or something else.

  “I'm going to show you how to slip your shoulder slightly to avoid an oncoming punch, okay, sweetheart?”

  She faltered, and then regained herself, and just nodded. We spent the rest of the time we had together with me teaching Natalie how to slip and jab, and then how to slip a jab and a cross together. She started moving fluidly, and I held back the urge to tell her she looked so sexy. I wasn't sure if my last comment had scared her off a bit.

  Sweat marked her brow, and I told her we were finished for the day.

  “Thanks for that, Jet. It actually was pretty fun today. I always thought MMA was a joke, to be honest, but there are pretty solid techniques and skills involved. There's a reason you do what you do; it's not just men swinging at each other.”

  I nodded. “Well, I'm glad you feel that way now.”

  She waved as she walked away from me, heading to the front door.

  I jogged to the locker room; and changed out of my sweaty shirt and into a new one. I grabbed my gear for my own training session; and headed back out to the training area. Some of my teammates were still there; and a guy named Brian approached me.

  “Hey, what's up with you and the redhead? She's a fox.”

  I held myself back from cutting into him. “Just teaching the girl some basic techniques of self- defense.”

  “Does she want to fight?”

  I looked up at him as I started wrapping my hands on the bench. “No, the opposite actually. She was mugged a while ago, and I thought it was a good idea that she lear
n how to defend herself.”

  “Oh, that's shitty. Poor girl. Well, hey, if you're not getting in with her, do you mind if I do?”

  My stare became hard, and the look caught Brian off guard. “Yeah, actually I do mind.”

  Brian put his hands up in defense. “Sorry, I didn't know. No problem, man.”

  “What are you two pussies doing over here? We have a training session to do.”

  We both laughed as our Coach walked up to us. He was grinning ear to ear, so we knew he had pain in store for us that day. I finished wrapping my hands, and tried to cool my temper from the conversation I had with Brian.

  “Hey, Coach, what are we doing today?”

  “Well I'm going to have you do your normal heavy bag rounds, but Brian is going to join us today, so I'm going to switch off with the both of you, and do pads with one, while the other remains on the bag. But we will start the first three rounds on the bag.”

  We got into position as Coach went to set the timer for the rounds. We usually did two-minute rounds to get the heart pumping. They weren't long rounds, but after doing 10 of them you could get really gassed.

  As the timer went off, I immediately went into combinations, starting with the jab and cross, and following with either a hook, or a hook and cross. It was important to get used to opening up your opponent, and then landing some deadly shots. Combinations were important in opening your opponent up. If you only threw two punches, you were missing out on opportunities to knock your opponent out. With a four-punch combination, that chance was more likely, or you could at least have them running scared.

  Throughout those three rounds, I threw everything I knew. I landed flying knees, spinning back fists, elbows and roundhouse kicks. By the time the third round ended, I was dripping sweat and my heart was raging in my chest.

  “Okay, Jet, you are with me this round on pads, and Brian, you continue on the bag. We will switch off when the round has ended.”

  I faced my coach, and he called out the shots he was looking for. He wanted to see speed and power at the same time. I loved pad work; it was a lot of fun, but it was not meant as a rest. You had to work just as hard at impressing as you did on the bag.

  The pop, pop, pop sound was all I could hear throughout the gym as it cleared out. There were always a few spectators who liked to watch the fighters train, but for the most part, we had the gym to ourselves.

  The bell went off, and Coach turned to Brain, signalling him to come in.

  “Good work, Jet, get back on the bag.” We tapped knuckles, and I headed in for another bag round. We continued this succession until we had done a total of ten bag rounds.

  “Okay, Jet, I'm going to take advantage of the fact that we have Brian working with us today, and focus on sparring. So let's take it light, we don't need any injuries before the fight. Make sure you work on your defense, Jet; don't just eat punches.”

  He reset the timer for a three-minute round, and when it went off I moved in immediately, catching Brian with a four-punch combo. This was where I was going to settle any confusion he might have about Natalie. We moved around each other, and I slipped a couple of his punches, and returned with a straight, hitting him square in the face. He caught me off guard with a low kick, and I missed checking the kick.

  We continued on like this, each landing our own moves, but keeping things light. It was practice, not a real fight. Sparring allowed you to experience a fight without actually being in one. This was where you made your mistakes, where you were humiliated and then built back up again. It was here you worked your hardest, so that you wouldn't have to in a fight. There was no room for error in a fight, so you didn't want to make your mistakes when it was real. It was important to correct everything when you trained, so that you were a machine in a fight.

  We sparred for four rounds before the coach stopped us.

  “You guys did a good job. You're getting up there, too, Brian. You should be able to get your own fight soon.”

  “Thanks, Coach. Hopefully all this hard work will pay off,” he said.

  “Oh, it always does. Look at Jet. He's one of the stars of the show, and he's relentless in the cage.”

  “Yeah, no kidding; he hits hard. You have a powerful right cross there, Jet.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “Relax for the rest of the day, Brian,” Coach offered.

  “Sounds cool, Coach, thanks for letting me train with you guys today.”

  “Yeah, anytime.”

  “See ya, Jet,” he waved at me, and I waved good-bye back.

  “He's not a bad guy; he’s a decent fighter,” Coach said.

  “Yeah, he's alright. Nothing to get bent out of shape about.”

  Coach chuckled. “Okay, tough guy, let’s hit the weights, and then you are free for the day.”

  He tapped me on the back of the shoulder and we headed to the weight area. I hoped that Brian got the message I had sent to him during sparring. Don't mess with me, guy.

  Chapter Five

  Natalie

  I lay in bed, frustrated to no end. These days, school was getting the better of me, and I was once again stumped on a project. At the beginning of the year, all the professors had handed out the assignments for the year. So it wasn't just the drawing class I was struggling with. I was also assigned projects for my photography class, as well as my creative writing class. The creative writing project was the one that plagued my existence on that particular sunny Tuesday afternoon. The project was to create a story from scratch, not a particularly long one. It wasn't like I had to prepare a full length novel, but I did have to create a story, and it could be fiction or nonfiction. I had realized throughout my creative studies so far that writing wasn't particularly my strong suit. Certainly I could create something marvellous if I put my mind to it, but it did not come naturally to me, as it did for others.

  I looked up as my bedroom door swung open, and Julie came in, holding a mug.

  “I brought you some green tea with lemon. Maybe it will spark some creative juices.”

  “Aw, thanks. But you probably should have brought some tequila. This is so not going well.”

  “Hey, that might actually work. Weren't most of the famous writers all drunks anyway? That might be the key to it all.”

  I laughed. “I don't think drinking this semester has worked in my favor at all. If anything, it's just made me dumber.”

  “Well, that is true in some cases.”

  “Hey!”

  She laughed. “Well, enjoy your tea. I'm hitting the shower, so I will check on you in a bit. Happy writing!”

  I smiled as she left. I loved Julie; she was such a great friend. I sipped slowly on the tea, to avoid burning my lips. It was the perfect addition to my morning―a little bitterness with a touch of sweetness. I could never drink green tea without lemon, it just wasn't tasty enough. Okay, I needed to focus. I took another sip of tea, and set it down on the bedside table. I took pencil to paper, and started scrolling down some ideas that I thought would be solid starting points. Once I finished, I felt vaguely proud, and started reading over the ideas one by one. As I did that, I started crossing them off one by one. They were terrible ideas, and certainly not very original. Just like with my drawing assignment, I really wanted to open the eyes of my professors creatively. I wanted them to see I could make a mark on the world, that I wasn't just another artist who stumbled through the school hallways, never really going anywhere in life. No, I truly believed I was meant for greatness, and I did not want to be lazy on any assignment. This was my future, and I was determined to work hard for it.

  I lay back on my bed, and nestled my head into the pillows. I thought long and hard about what I could do for my project. The last thing I wanted to do was wait until the last minute to write the bloody thing, or I would be in real trouble. I could just imagine myself with writer's block, the night before the assignment was due. That would certainly impress the professor. And writer's block was real, people, trust me. It h
ad plagued my mind on more than one occasion. My eyes fluttered closed, and I tried to focus on the things that had occurred in my life up until that point. There had surely been plenty of highs and lows in my life. Good times, and also some very sad times. My professor was always giving us tips when it came to writing in general. She always said to us, “Write what you know!” I had always thought it was excellent writing advice. Many writers often struggled when they ventured outside the box and their stories lacked genuineness. Your true passion for writing often dripped through the crevices of your existence if you had a solid understanding of that passion.

  My mind started drifting to my ex, and how we had originally met. He had stumbled upon me at the library one day and abruptly sat down at my table. He actually studied, unlike Jet. The thought made me smile. My ex had apologized for being rude, but had been looking unsuccessfully for a quiet place to read. He had been so handsome that it almost hurt for me to look at him. Although we had both been there for some quiet, we ended up talking for hours. When he left me his number, and the promise to see me again, I had actually felt an ache at his absence. Sounded like the prefect love story didn't it? A lot of people would eat that right up, and for three years it had been just that―perfection.

  What most people wouldn't expect, however, was the betrayal that came from the man I loved, and my own best friend. The story could be harsh enough for the movies, a real blockbuster. But the idea of recreating that story, and having to dig deep in order to portray the characters correctly would require me to open old wounds that I didn't want to open. When I thought about it, and all that it would require, it made me a little depressed, and I nixed the idea immediately. It could be a compelling drama, but it surely would be a humiliating one for the lead character. No, it was best to lay that one to rest.

  So if I wasn't going to write about my ex, who would I write about? It wasn't long; maybe two to three seconds before Jet came to mind. He was one of those ruthless bad boys that girls (not me) seemed to swoon over. He was the classic breaker of hearts; eat ‘em up and then spit ‘em out. Could I write a convincing story about him? Sure, I could look at what had already transpired between us. It really was the perfect story, and I didn't need to worry about any festering wounds opening back up, because there were no wounds. I didn't care about him, and he didn't care about me. I could essentially write a story based off of true events that were happening in my life right now. It could almost be like a diary.