by D. C. Ruins
"Now, I want to show you how to get out of a hold," Heath announced a while later. He was starting to work up a sweat, and Drew was finally starting to loosen up. She genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself, and he could tell she was growing more and more empowered with every new thing he taught her. Which was precisely the goal of the course—to empower women to be able to take care of themselves in a hairy situation.
"There's a couple ways you can go about this," he added. He moved in front of Drew, giving her his back. "All right. Put me in a hold." He stood, waiting, and after a moment glanced over his shoulder. Drew was flushing slightly as she stared at his back. "What's the problem?" he asked.
"Huh?" Drew's head snapped up, meeting his gaze.
"What's the problem? Grab me."
"Uh, yeah," she muttered. "Right." Her arms slid around him gingerly. He bit back a smile and shook his head.
"Drew. Grab me like you mean it. This won't work otherwise."
He heard her sigh and her arms tightened around him noticeably. He wiggled slightly, testing the strength of her grasp, and was satisfied it would work to demonstrate on her.
"All right," he said over his shoulder. "Say someone comes up behind you and pins your arms to your sides, and you can't get out. What you should do is swing one of your legs in a giant step behind both of you, plant it right behind their leg, and throw your hip to put them off-balance. Then you can start throwing elbows, breaking the hold, getting away. Sometimes it might be a little bit more of a fight if they're not willing to let you go. You can try twisting out of their grasp like this." He showed her, and she nodded. "Let's try it again."
She repositioned her arms, and he executed the move. Then, in a flash of mischievousness he couldn't help, he grabbed her around the waist once she was off-balance, lifted her and slammed her on her back on the mat. He leaned over her and grinned as her eyes went wide and the air rushed out of her lungs from the impact with a breathless laugh.
"Sorry," he said. "I couldn't resist." He hopped to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. She ignored it and rolled to her feet.
"You know I'm going to find a way to get you back for that," she said. "I don't know how. But it's going to happen."
Heath afforded her a rare, full-mouthed grin. "Sure. Whatever you say." He motioned her into the center of the ring. "All right. Now you show me." He stepped up behind her and was momentarily distracted by her smell; it was a combination of her shampoo, the lingering perfume on her skin, and her sweat. It was intoxicating and heady, and he realized as he took a deep breath how much he liked it. He slowly slipped his arms around her, tightening his hold, and swallowed as, for the first time, he realized that she was pressed against his body. It had been different when he was in "teacher" mode; now, he was all too aware of the feeling of her skin against his, how her small body felt in his arms, the feeling of her rounded, curvy rear end pressing into the tops of his thighs.
Fuck, he thought, instantly forcing the thought from his mind as one of his body parts below the waist began to stir. Teacher mode. Secure that shit, Riley.
When Drew felt his arms tighten around her, she swung her leg back behind his like he'd showed her and moved her hips hard, and Heath instantly felt himself lose his balance. He felt a sharp elbow dig into his ribs and the air expelled from his lungs. The next thing he knew, he had fallen over on his ass after a hard shove to his chest and Drew loped around the ring, laughing at him openly.
He mock-glared at her as he got to his feet, but couldn't fight another smirk. "All right," he said, rubbing his torso where she'd elbowed him. "We're even. Well done."
Drew smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders modestly.
"We're going to do that once more, but this time, I want it to be as real as possible. So you're not going to know when I grab you, and I'm going to really grab you hard. We need to make this as realistic as possible. Okay?"
Drew gave him one nod and turned again, so her back was to him. Heath stood a few paces behind her, and waited. He watched as her body tensed up as the moments went on, saw her head involuntarily move slightly as though she tried to look over her shoulder, but caught herself. He let her stand there a few more minutes, then he silently, quickly, darted forward and grabbed her.
He heard her gasp audibly, and her body immediately tensed and began to thrash. He didn't say a word but held on, mentally urging her to move into action. Suddenly, he felt her body go limp in his arms and the sound of her rapid breathing filled their small space. One of his forearms was over her chest, and he could feel her pulse take off in a rapid pace.
Shit, he thought. Out loud, he said, "Drew!"
She would have sunk to the floor of the ring if he hadn't been holding her. Her breathing was starting to freak him out, so he lowered them both to the floor. He sank to his knees as she sprawled in front of him, her back still pressed against him. He fumbled one hand to her face, gripping her cheek to turn her around to face him. He sucked in a breath, seeing her eyes wide and unseeing of him; that horrible, deep-rooted fear filled them. He gently shook her. "Drew," he said louder, more gruffly.
As it had outside the lounge, speaking her name that way drew her attention and her eyes shifted to him, blinking slowly. Her breathing was still heavy and increased, almost like she was having an asthma attack.
"Meds," she rasped out. "Bag."
He let her go gently, then scrambled out of the ring to where her gym bag was still on the floor next to her favorite punching bag. He grabbed the whole bag and hurried back to the ring. He slid the bag over to her hard before launching himself after it and moving to her side. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't grasp the zipper. Finally, he took it from her and opened it.
"Where?" he asked quietly.
"Inner pocket," she whispered back, her entire body shaking now. He found the pocket and unzipped it, immediately locating the small, round amber bottle that was all too familiar to him. He handed it over, realizing his dumb mistake when her hands trembled over the lid. He took the bottle back from her and glanced at the label. He inwardly shook his head as he recognized the label for an anti-anxiety medication. He read the dosage and poured out two pills into his palm and gave them to her, along with his water bottle.
He didn't watch as she gulped the pills and water down. He knew he had been against it before, but the urge to ask for answers was strong on his tongue and he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from barraging her with questions. They sat quietly and he listened as her breathing slowed and regulated itself. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and saw that her shaking had mostly subsided and she sat, hugging her knees to her chest as she tried to hand him back his bottle of water. He noticed she had only taken enough to swallow down the pills and he shook his head, waving the bottle back to her.
"You drink it," he said. "You should drink more than that."
She didn't meet his eyes as she drained the rest of the bottle, though he sensed she knew he was watching her. There was a look of almost guilt on her face, as though she knew he had a million questions and she didn't want to answer any of them.
"Drew…" he began finally, and her head snapped up. She met his eyes and he saw that hers were naked with emotion.
"Please," she said softly. "Please don't ask me anything. Not right now." She swallowed hard. "I—I know I owe you an explanation. But I can't right now. I just can't."
He studied her face and frowned slightly. "I want to know what's up with you," he said slowly. "But I don't want to make you feel any worse than you do right now. I just—if you're goin' through something, I might be able to help you. I'm as fucked up as they come," he added lightly, and was pleased to see a tiny smile cross her face. He noted that she still hugged her knees, but she seemed to have stopped shaking. He got to his feet and extended his hand again. She looked at it, then up at him. Hesitantly, she reached out and grabbed it. He pulled her easily to her feet and looked down into her face.
"You hun
gry?" he asked.
She looked a little taken aback and glanced at her watch. She looked back up at him and smiled uncertainly.
"Heath, it's, like, midnight," she said.
He shrugged. "So what? You hungry?"
Her smile grew slightly and she shrugged. "Sure."
"There's a place down the street that makes the best cheesesteaks you've ever had," he said. "My treat."
She studied his face a moment longer then nodded. "Okay. Let me go get my stuff."
He waited by the door for her, and she reappeared a little later, wearing a large zip-up hooded sweatshirt over her black yoga pants and sneakers, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. They walked down the street in a comfortable silence, although Heath's mind was still whirling from her "episode" in the ring. It was clear she had undergone something completely traumatic; it had been clear from the night he'd witnessed her attack at the gym. He had a sneaking suspicion of what might have happened to her, and he sincerely hoped he was mistaken. He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye and couldn't help noticing how different she looked than she had at Cliff's. There, she had looked like a star, a model or something. Now, she was back to her normal self. She was possibly even more beautiful and appealing to him stripped down this way; a clean, bare face, her long dark hair in a ponytail, workout clothes. He felt like he was really seeing her.
"There it is," he said presently, pointing to a little corner restaurant. "They're always open late." He held the door open for her and she walked past, giving him a nod of thanks.
"Isn't this against your training diet?" she asked, folding her arms and scanning the menus on the wall behind the counter.
"I won't tell if you won't," Heath replied. "Do you know what you want?"
"I'll have what you're having," Drew replied.
Heath stepped up to the counter. "Two, whiz, with," he said quickly, and the cook nodded and set to making their sandwiches.
"Does this really count since we're in Pittsburgh?" Drew asked with a smirk.
"Absolutely," Heath replied. "Everybody in PA takes their cheesesteaks seriously. Everybody."
When their orders were up, Heath stepped up to the counter to get them and handed Drew one of the cardboard trays overflowing with sandwich and moved toward the row of countertops against the front window. They took stools and Heath glanced over at her, seeing her examining her sandwich crammed with thinly sliced rib-eye, cheese whiz, and grilled onions. She looked up with a smile.
"Looks good," she said. "Looks like you did it right." She picked up her sandwich and took an enormous bite as Heath glared at her playfully.
"I did it right?" he repeated. "Excuse you?"
"Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing," Drew said around her mouthful.
"I think I'm the native here," he shot back. She shrugged and chewed. "Fuckin' New Yorkers," he teased, taking his own bite. They ate for a while in silence and Heath enjoyed watching her appreciate her sandwich. He'd always liked a healthy appetite in a woman.
"It's good?" he asked after a moment. Drew gave an enthusiastic nod, unable to speak due to the monstrous bite she'd just taken.
She swallowed. "Possibly the best thing I've eaten here besides my mother's cooking."
"Your mom's a good cook?" he asked, thinking of his own mother. Before she'd gotten sick, she'd decided she wanted to get into cooking. Heath smiled inwardly at the memory of her awful meals that he'd eaten and pretended to like to preserve her feelings.
"The best," Drew replied, pulling a piece of bread off her sandwich and swiping up a bit of cheese whiz. "She grew up in my Nonna's kitchen. Sunday dinner is a staple in our family and she always makes enough for an army. Although, there's almost that many people in her and my father's apartment every Sunday."
"You got a big family?" Heath asked.
"Pretty big," Drew replied. "I have two older sisters. They're both married and have two kids apiece. Then there's Uncle Gino. So it's pretty crowded in there." She smiled. "But that's what makes it so much fun."
"You close to your sisters?"
Drew nodded. "Very close. My oldest sister, Nik, is thirty-two. My older sister Toni is thirty. I'm the baby at twenty-seven. Being that close in age, we've always been close. Had a lot fights growing up," she added, "but we've always been close."
"Drew…Nik…and Toni," Heath repeated with a chuckle.
Drew laughed too. "My dad, he always knew he was going to have boys. No girls. Well, when Nik was born, he decided to name her after his own father anyway because he didn't want the name to go to waste. Then when Toni came along, he decided he didn't want his grandfather's name to go to waste either, so he named her that anyway. Then when I came along, he gave up on the idea of boys and gave me my mother's father's name." She shrugged and smiled. "What's funny is that our names aren't short for anything. Nik is named after my grandfather Dominic, but everyone called him Nic for short. Same thing with Toni and me. My mother insisted on 'feminine' spellings if we were going to have boys' names."
Heath chuckled again. "That's pretty funny. The three o' you sound like a bunch of 'wise guys'."
"Nik and Toni definitely act like it sometimes," Drew agreed. "Their poor husbands."
"So your whole family lives in Pittsburgh now?" he asked.
"Yes," Drew replied. "We were all born and raised in New York. Toni came out here with her husband first. The rest of us were in New York. Then when we came out here, Nik joined a law firm and her husband's a doctor. So they were able to get jobs relatively easy. My parents invested in the apartment complex and then the bakery. They always wanted a couple family businesses."
"And what about you?"
"Me?" Drew replied. "Well. I already told you I was a dancer. I want to open my own studio one day. I'm getting closer. Not having to pay rent helps, living in the family building. Just saving my money. There's a spot downtown, an old studio that hasn't been claimed yet. That's what I really want. I'm saving enough money until the bank will grant me the loan for the space. They won't give me the whole amount so I have to have enough for a down payment. I'm just scared someone will snap it up before me."
"I hope you get it," Heath said sincerely. "Teaching dance at the Y getting old?"
"Thanks," Drew replied quietly, smiling at him slightly. "And I love teaching at the Y. I just wish it was my place. But at least this way, I have a rehearsal space for myself instead of my living room."
"Rehearsal space?" Heath repeated.
Drew rolled her eyes and shook her head, but smiled still. "My friend Bunz, she forced me to enter this talent showcase. It's a community thing, they want all kinds of artists, musicians, poets, dancers. I haven't danced in front of a crowd in years. But it's coming up in a couple months, so I've been using my studio space at the Y to work on it. She doesn't know that yet though, I don't want her getting all excited. I might back out."
"Don't do that," Heath said automatically. "Don't back out. You should do it. I'd like to see it."
Drew gaped at him. "You want to see me dance?"
He shrugged. "Sure. Why not? I bet you're really talented. People without talent don't usually grow up and want to have their own dance studios."
Drew smiled down at her sandwich. "Well. Thank you. I don't know if you'll ever get to see me dance, but the fact that you want to is nice."
Heath cleared his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He cast about for another question. "So what made your family want to move from New York?" he asked, and immediately he saw her face change. She didn't answer right away. "Drew?"
She pushed the remains of her sandwich away as though she'd lost her appetite. He knew immediately that it had something to do with her present state, and he held his breath, wondering if she would come clean with him finally.
Presently, she heaved a heavy sigh and looked out the window. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and began to worry it. Heath sat patiently, pushing his own sandwich away, waiting for her to speak.
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She finally turned her eyes to meet his, and he saw on her face that she understood he knew by now that the two were connected, and that he knew there was something really wrong with her.
"Something—happened to me," she started softly, dropping her eyes. "In New York. Something bad. And while I recovered from it physically, I really had a hard time with it mentally, emotionally. I went to therapy for my mind like I went to therapy for my body, but I made progress with one and not the other. My parents decided that I needed a change of scenery, and made the decision to move out here with Toni and her husband. And because we're as close as we are, Nik and her husband came too so we could all be together again."
"That was nice of them," Heath said evenly. He wanted so badly to ask her what happened, but he sensed that might be too much for her.
As though she could sense his next question, she quickly reached out for their trash and gathered it up, sliding off her stool. "It's getting late," she said, dumping their trash into the receptacle. "I better go before the buses stop running."
Heath decided not to point out that it would be hours and hours before that happened, but merely nodded, rising from his stool and pushing the door open for her. He appreciated her opening up so much to him, but all it did was make him even more curious. He walked her to the bus stop and waited with her. They were silent but he could feel her looking up at him anxiously over and over. He glanced back down at her finally and gave her a half-smile.
When her bus arrived, she was surprised when he climbed aboard after her and dropped into the seat next to her.
"You take this bus?" she asked, almost nervously.
He shook his head. "Nah. I take the other bus. I just want to make sure you get home ok. I'm not stalkin' you, I promise."
She seemed genuinely astonished. "I'm not sure where you live, but it'll take you almost two hours to get home with the way these buses run…You don't have to do this. You should go home. It's late and I'm sure you've had a long day."