Page 57 of Greased

I’m shaken out of my stupor when Scarlett throws the tape off to the side of the mat.

“What do I do?” she asks, waiting for my instruction. My eyes travel down her body, looking at the way she holds herself. Almost like she is bracing in case I rush her again, which I don't plan to do this time around. My eyes slowly travel back up her body as I eventually meet her gaze again.

She gives me a knowing look, a hint of a smile turns her lips that I devour, while giving nothing away. On the outside, I am completely unaffected by her but on the inside: I’m drowning in her.

“Hit the pads. There’s no real technique needed right now. Just keep your face guarded.”

She gives me a nod before bringing her hands up to her face just like I told her. I watch as the rest of her body follows, just like I thought. Her muscles know what to do.

She has done this before. She and I have done this before. It was always one of our warm up routines. The guys would all grouch because Scarlett and I would automatically team up.

I used to revel in it. My crush on her was ridiculous even back then. From the moment I noticed girls, my sights were set on Scarlett. Even after she was gone, no one ever amounted to her. There were just spot fillers. Not like the way she has always filled a spot in my soul. Just like she was so easily able to do from the moment I saw her on that beach, sopping wet and fucking delectable.

Scarlett’s first hit on the mitt is weak, barely even making my arm jolt back.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” I tease. It lights a fire in her eyes, just like I was wanting. Her next hit is slightly harder than the next.

“Harder,” I encourage.

Her next two hits come in quick succession, both with more power behind them than the last.

“Harder!” I yell.One punch, another punch.“Harder!”Another punch.“Is that all you’ve got?”

She lets out a yell, a determination I once saw in her coming alive again. Her eyes darken and her stance strengthens. Her punches this time finally come with the force I was looking for from her, knowing she just needed it coaxed out of her. That fight that was so rich in her just dying to come alive again after being suppressed inside of her.

“Again, Scarlett!” I yell, pulling out every ounce of fight I can from her. Coaxing her inner demon to come and play.

“Fuck you, Dawson!” she yells as she returns two punches.

I can’t help the psychotic laugh that escapes me. “Time and place, baby doll.”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot fucking pole,” she retorts.

I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. “Oh, Scarlett, I didn’t know you liked my brand of foreplay.”

“Ugh, disgusting,” she grunts, but her fight doesn’t relent. She still continues to give me all she has got. I slowly start to notice the fatigue setting in though. The earlier panic attack having well and truly exhausted her. A shrill whistle sounds and I watch as Scarlett blows out a breath in relief. Her shoulders slump and her hands drop to her sides as she turns to face Mr Green.

“That’s enough for today. Thursday I expect you to bring your A game. No more fucking around. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” we all say in unison.

He then gives us all one last assessing glance over, determining our worth to the Birds just like he does every session. Something seems to soften in his eyes as he looks at Scarlett, but it's gone as his gaze swings to mine. I give him a respectful nod, one he returns.

Over the years I have grown a lot of respect for Mr Green. I watched in awe of him that day back when Scarlett was taken. He was able to snap me out of a full blown meltdown.

I’ll never forget his words, ‘Face them all like a warrior. Whether you are one or not.’Pretty sure he just found that quote from a book, but it did its job that day.

I stood up from my cowered position behind a knocked over picnic table. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there or where my parents, brother or friends were. All I could see was the .22 pistol Mr Green handed me. It wasn’t the first time I had been handed a gun of a similar calibre.

From the moment we could comfortably hold a gun in our hands and not fall on our asses from the recoil, we had been trained to usethem. Which at the time I didn’t realise was for situations like the one I was thrown into.

It was the same day I looked a six foot man in the eyes and shot him in between his.

An innocent eight year old turned killer in the blink of an eye.

I didn’t hesitate for a single second. Because as his gun slowly began to raise, I knew that he would have no qualms shooting me dead. From that day on, nothing has ever been able to penetrate the walls I built up around myself.

I became the perfect warrior.

---