Easy (20 page)

“He’s taken
complete responsibility for his error in judgment, Ms. Wallace.”

I couldn’t
breathe, my thoughts rioting. From the first moment I saw him—facing Buck in
that parking lot after, I can only assume, pulling him off me—he’d been
protecting me. Was he in danger of being fired from his job because of our
relationship, whatever it had been?

I moved closer, my
hand on the desk. “Lucas didn’t—he didn’t take advantage of me in any way. He
was very helpful as a tutor. I have another class during his group sessions, so
I couldn’t attend them, but he emailed the worksheets to me.” Breathless, I
stopped, not wanting to make this worse than it already was. I couldn’t
resemble some infatuated girl or my declarations wouldn’t carry any weight at
all. “He shouldn’t be in trouble because of me.”

My professor
stared at my paper, still in his hands. If anything, he looked more concerned
than he had moments ago. Forehead creased, he raised his eyes and stared at me
a moment. “He also says that you weren’t aware of the fact that the boy you
were… seeing… was your tutor. That your academic relationship was carried out
through email only.”

I nodded, unwilling
to contradict anything Lucas said.

He sighed again,
sitting back in thought, one hand covering his mouth. Finally, he slid the
paper across the desk to me. “Your research and the conclusions reached were
impressive for an undergrad. Good job, Ms. Wallace. If you do well on the
final, your grade in the course shouldn’t suffer from the, um, emotional
upheavals you faced mid-semester. A word of advice, though. This won’t be the
last time you have to deal with something in life that throws you off your
game. In future courses, as well as in the real world—such as it is—professors
and employers won’t always be accommodating. We all have to—what’s my
daughter’s terminology—suck it up and deal?”

I resisted flipping
to the last page to check my grade. “Yes, sir.” I knew I should stand up, thank
him, and scramble out of his office while I was still on his good side. I
couldn’t do it. “And Lucas? Is he in trouble? Will he… will he lose his job?”

He shook his head.
“There doesn’t appear to have been any real harm done, although I’ve reminded
Landon—er, Lucas—that sometimes, how a situation is perceived carries more
weight than the reality of the matter. With that in mind, I suggested that he
limit himself to appropriate tutoring interactions for the duration of the
semester.”

Lucas hadn’t mentioned
any possibility of future interactions. His answer to whether or not it was
over had been conclusive, and he hadn’t emailed or texted me to contradict it,
nor had he looked my way in class today that I knew of.

“Thank you, Dr.
Heller.” I waited until I was outside to check the grade I’d received—a 94.
Unquestionably better than I would have done on the midterm, had I been present
for it.

***

I ignored Lucas on my way to my
seat before class on Wednesday and Friday, and ignored him again as I left,
especially as I found Kennedy waiting in the aisle to walk me out both days. On
Wednesday, my ex asked me how the tutoring was going.

“What?” I stumbled
on the next step and he caught my elbow.

“Was it two eighth-graders
or two ninth-graders who had massive crushes on you?” He laughed, turning the
heads of two girls we passed on the way outside; per typical Kennedy, he didn’t
seem to notice. “Or do they
all
have a crush on you by now?”

Ah—
bass
lessons,
not
economics
tutoring. I tucked my chin into my fuzzy scarf and pulled my
coat’s zipper to my throat when we rounded the corner of the building and a
blast of frigid air hit us, and he turned up his collar and shoved his bare hands
into his coat pockets.

“I have no idea
what they’re thinking, most of the time. They’re all a little surly.”

He glanced at me
and smiled, that dimple riveting my attention as it had since the first time I
saw it, and from there, his beautiful green eyes. He bumped me lightly with his
elbow. “Surliness is sound evidence that they’re all crushing on you.”

Scowling, I faced
forward and picked up the pace. I couldn’t imagine where he was going with
that, but I wasn’t following. “I’ll see you later, Kennedy. I have to get to
Spanish.”

He caught my arm.
“Maggie said you were coming to the Bash on Saturday?”

I nodded. Erin and
I spent four hours shopping for dresses and shoes Tuesday night. She was going
all out in her intention to make Chaz regret any decision he’d made that didn’t
include worshipping at her feet.

“What happened to
‘I love the hunt’?” I’d asked as she discarded the tenth or eleventh
not-quite-perfect cocktail dress before shimmying into a bit of silver fabric
with a thigh-high split.

Smiling into the
mirror with predatory resolve, she’d waited for me to zip her up and examined
her body in the reflective dress that set off her red hair like she was on
fire. “Oh, I’m
hunting
all right,” she’d purred.

I split away from
Kennedy without a backward glance, and he called, “See you later, Jacqueline.”

I considered and
rejected every excuse I could cook up for why I needed to bow out, belatedly
wishing that I had never agreed to accompany Erin to the annual Bash. My
normally sane roommate was determined to make her ex-boyfriend’s life a living
hell for at least one night. At dinner Friday, she said, “I have to do this.
For closure.” Maggie arched a brow at me from across the table. Between the
Erin/Chaz drama, Kennedy’s attempts to reverse our breakup, and the likely
presence of Buck, Saturday night couldn’t be over soon enough for me.

***

Avoiding eye contact during the
self-defense class Saturday morning proved more difficult than dodging each
other during economics, but Lucas and I managed it for the first hour. The
oddest part of the past week was the worksheets he continued to send, but
without any note beyond. The entire email consisted of:
New worksheet attached, LM.

“Where a kick is
more likely to be miscalculated by the victim or evaded by the perp, a
knee-strike is close-range and more easily executed, so we’re going to focus on
this defense first.” Ralph’s voice brought me back to the self-defense class. “And
I assume you ladies know what you’re aimin’ for with that knee.”

Dividing into two
groups as we had two weeks ago, I went to stand in Don’s group and Erin
followed. He held a thick pad with straps for his muscular forearm to hold it
in place, explaining knee-strike basics and asking for a volunteer to help
demonstrate, which Erin readily answered. I was proud of her resounding
No!
as she grabbed Don’s shoulders and slammed her knee into the pad. I recognized
the move from Lucas having used it on Buck—though he’d struck him under the
chin rather than the groin. Buck had gone straight to the ground. And stayed
there.

When it was my
turn, my self-conscious hesitation disappeared with my group’s vocal
encouragement and Don’s “Again!” between each strike. Exhilarated, I walked
back to Erin wide-eyed and shaking with adrenaline. She laughed and said, “I
know, right?”

We progressed to
kicks, and every time I landed one and heard Don’s gratifying grunt, my fear
that I could never replicate these in real life lessened. Vickie—the white-haired
woman who’d unknowingly given me the courage to remain in the class two weeks
ago—asked how, even if we hit the right place with enough force, we could win
against a man his size.

Don reminded us
that we didn’t have to win a fight—we just had to get away. “Every second buys
you time to run.”

When Ralph
announced a short break, I stole a look at Lucas. Over the heads of two girls,
one of whom was talking to him, his eyes were on me, their icy gray-blue almost
colorless from across the bright room. After the physical activity of the
morning, my response was overwhelming. My breath went shallow and quick,
neither of us turning away until Erin hooked her arm through mine and tugged.

“C’mon, lovergirl,” she murmured, inaudible to anyone but me.

I flushed as I let
her lead me into the hallway, toward the locker room. Leaning over the sink, I
splashed water on my face and stared into the mirror, wondering what Lucas saw
when he looked at me. What Kennedy saw. What Buck saw.

“Got it bad,
don’tcha?” Erin handed me a paper towel and pursed her lips, angling her head
as she examined my face in the mirror, too. Her dark eyes met mine. “I should
have known that hookup therapy wouldn’t work for you. If it makes you feel any
better, he doesn’t look any less strung out than you do.”

I rolled my eyes,
patting the water from my cheeks. “Believe it or not, that doesn’t make me feel
better.”

She arched a brow,
her gaze moving to her own reflection as she smoothed an imaginary imperfection
on her lip and adjusted her wild ponytail. “Mmm-hmm.”

***

“We’re ready to learn the last few
moves over the next hour or so—defense against holds and chokes. Next week,
we’ll integrate everything you’ve learned into potential scenarios.” Clapping
his hands together, Ralph added, “Divide up and let’s get started.”

After the twelve
of us had automatically separated into our previous groups, Ralph addressed the
men, who were partially padded up, including headgear. “Don, Lucas, let’s have
you two switch off for this part. Mix up the attacker tactics a bit.”

Oh, God. So much
for avoiding each other.

Though I knew
there was no avoiding this, my brain cast about for any way out of having Lucas’s
arms locked around me in front of everyone. The first attack was called the
bear hug, and the intrepid, white-haired Vickie volunteered to help demonstrate
the slow-motion defense against it. I watched with Erin and the other three
ladies in my group, my breathing erratic and my heart thudding like it was
trying to break out of my ribcage. He’d not even touched me yet.

The need for
headgear became obvious when he explained the use of head-butts—the back of the
victim’s head smashing into the mouth or nose of the assailant. There was also
instep-stomping (everyone laughed when Lucas requested that we refrain from
actual stomping of his unpadded foot—he would gladly react as though we’d done
it forcefully), elbow to the midsection, and a move termed
the lawnmower
by Ralph, who came over to check on our progress.

Moving to stand in
front of Lucas, he said, “This’ll be another move that we’d prefer no one tries
in earnest on our brave instructors.” He turned and clapped Lucas’s shoulder.
“We don’t wanna render our boys incapable of fatherhood.” As the ladies
chuckled, Lucas flushed slightly pink and stared at the floor, his lips screwed
into a discomfited smirk. “In a real life attack, if you have a hand free and
low, you will reach back and grab the goods, twisting and pulling straight out
like you’re startin’ a lawnmower.”

He demonstrated,
complete with a lawnmower-starting sound-effect, and even Don’s group was
watching and laughing. Lucas bit his lip and shook his head.

One by one, the
six of us went to stand in front of him, facing the group, waiting for him to
grab them so they could practice the techniques. The lawnmower was a favorite
of the older ladies, and they all used it, along with the sound effect. Eyes
sparkling, Erin used every single defense we’d just learned, one after the
other—head-butt, foot-stomp, shin-scrape, elbow to the abdomen with one arm and
lawnmower-starting with the other. The ladies in our group cheered and Lucas
said, “Good job. He’ll be on the ground begging you to run away at this point.”

“Should I kick him
first?” she asked, completely serious.

“Uh… if he’s not making
a move toward you, then
run
. You don’t want him to grab your foot and
pull you down.” Erin nodded and walked back to me, squeezing my hand when she
reached my side.

He looked into my
eyes as I approached. I stared back, turning my back to him as I reached him, trying
to concentrate on what I was supposed to do next.

Suddenly, his arms
were around me like bands, but gentler than any assailant would ever be. His
muscled arms were solid and unyielding. Unnerved, I forgot every defense I’d
just learned and struggled ineffectively against his strength.

“Hit me, Jacqueline,” he said in my ear. “Elbow.”

I elbowed his pad-covered abdomen and he grunted.

“Good. Foot stomp.”

I acted it out, carefully.

“Head-butt.”

The top of my head barely reached his padded chin, but I butted it.

“Lawnmower.” His
voice was soft, breathy, and I could not, even drawing on every bit of
imagination I possessed, picture touching him there to harm him.

I did the move,
without the sound effect, blushing full-on, and he let go. Stumbling toward
Erin, I would have felt foolish but for the fact that every woman in the room
was doing exactly what I’d just done. Except not with a guy whose touch made
her insides go hot and liquid. Not with a guy who made her want to turn and be
wrapped up in those arms.

My group smiled and patted my shoulders and commended me as if I hadn’t completely frozen in the beginning.

The front bear hug was worse, but for the way Lucas’s eyes dilated slightly when I looked up at
him, my chest pressed against his. Like Erin said, he was not unaffected—a
knowledge that made me feel both better and worse.

The chokeholds were easier, and I did them without his verbal cues.

And then the class
was over, with Ralph encouraging us to practice—carefully—over the coming week.
“Next week the guys will be in full body gear, and you’ll be able to clobber the
daylights out of ’em, no holds barred.”

Erin and Vickie
high-fived, and Ralph beamed at them both, rubbing his palms together.
“Bloodthirsty and ruthless. Exactly what I wanna see.”