Page 42 of Not Fooling Anyone

“Lesson one. You need to be ready for anything, at any time, from anyone.”

He steps back, bringing his hands in front of him in a defensive position. “Is that your life motto or something?”

I shrug. It kind of is.

Not that I was prepared today.

“You blocked well. But you could still work on your reaction time.” I circle him, glad that the only guys left here aren’t paying attention to us. “Do you get hit in the ring normally?”

He grins. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I said no such thing,” I tell him primly. “Your hand should be closer to your chin.”

He moves it, and parries as I come in again, slapping my hand out of the way.

“Have you ever competed?” he asks, eyeing me speculatively. “Your form is surprisingly good.”

“Just because I don’t like boxing doesn’t mean I can’t do it.” I take a jab at him, and he ducks neatly out of the way.

“I find it odd that you’re good at something you claim to hate.”

“I didn’t always hate it,” I murmur, studying him for weak spots. His stance is pretty spot on, though.

“What changed?”

I roll my neck, loosening the muscles. God, it’d felt nice when he massaged the area in the lab. “Nothing did, really. I thought I could change things, but I couldn’t.”

“Change what?”

I go for an uppercut, but he slips away, light on his feet.

“What did you want to change, Lexie?”

“Why do you care?”

I press my lips together tightly, wishing I hadn’t said that. I don’t want to hear him say he doesn’t.

“Because I want to know you. We’re partners.”

It’s the same as he said at the library the other day. And I still owe him for earlier…

“I thought—” I clear my throat, getting rid of the crackle in my voice. “I thought if I could get great at boxing, Dad would take me with him. To live. I would practice with him whenever he came to visit. But he laughed when I suggested it.”

He lowers his hands, but I don’t bum rush him like I should. “How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Ten? Eleven? He probably doesn’t even remember it now.”

“And you did that because you didn’t want to stay with your mom?”

Did I tell him that before? Or is he guessing? “Yeah.”

He steps closer, something about the action setting me on edge after all his questions. “Why did you freak out so bad about the needle earlier?”

My heart pounds, face growing hot, and I look down at my gloves, still at the ready. If anyone else asked that, I’d ignore them, but Ethan deserves some kind of response.

“I’ve had… not good experiences with them. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

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