Page 8 of A Kickin' Karate Christmas
It felt like a bad match on Swyper. I’d had more than a few awkward hookups from that app, particularly when I was younger and more active on it. There was a reason I’d stopped using that disaster of a dating app.
“Yeah. We can do that.”
“Where did we leave off?” I remembered there was a full list he’d written out, but I didn’t remember what had been on it.
He pulled up the list and angled the laptop toward me. I couldn’t see the words. I moved closer to the computer, which meant moving closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating off him and drew in a deep breath. That was a mistake. I could smell his body wash, something woodsy and expensive. I wished I could stop breathing. Too bad I knew that wasn’t a possibility.
He seemed completely unaffected.
“We were going down the list,” he started. “We discussedBuddy Night, and I think you mentioned doing more than one. Any thoughts on making it a week?”
The conversation flowed from there as we worked through the nitty gritty details ofBuddy Week. He helped me choose the dates and told me he’d create some graphics to advertise it, possibly some fliers to hand out to the parents.
“That hopefully will solve some of the future revenue issues,” he started. “We still need to think of something that can put a cash infusion into your accounts.”
“A cash infusion sounds good,” I agreed. The dojo bank accounts were getting low. There was barely enough to pay the monthly fees for our rented storefront, and outside of raising the prices, I couldn’t think of any other way to make up the difference. That would still only get us so far. “You don’t happen to have any ideas for that on your list, right?”
Jake’s shoulders slumped. I took that as a no. “I have a few ideas, but I’m not sure how realistic any of them will be.” I didn’t like the disappointment in his voice. I didn’t want him to feel like he was letting me down. He was doing so much. He was meeting with me on his own time. I admired all the effort he was putting into this.
I wanted to hear his ideas.
At least, I did until he told me the first few. He was right that they weren’t realistic. A lot of them needed more community involvement than was practical for a small dojo. I didn’t have any connections to people who owned restaurants to have a fundraiser night. I didn’t think that having a fundraiser at a bar was really on brand, even if I did know a few people who worked at the bars in King’s Bay. It just didn’t go with the values I was putting in place for my students.
I wanted to save the dojo, but not if it meant compromising the values I taught in it.
“I’ve got a few—”
“Sensei Mat!” A small voice interrupted, followed by a blur of pink and a collision. I was knocked backward into the couch, and the sound of Emerson’s chatter filled the room. “I thought I heard Daddy talking to someone, but I didn’t think that he had anyone over. So, I thought it might be the TV, but then I decidedI wanted some water, and you’re here. What are you doing here?”
“Your dad and I are working on something,” I told her quietly, looking over her head at Jake.
For a moment, Jake had a softness on his face that I’d never seen before. Then I blinked, and that affection was replaced by amusement. I wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing. If there was any softness in his expression, it would’ve been about his daughter. I told myself this over and over again, but there was the smallest glimmer of something that felt almost like hope that maybe it was directed at me. That glimmer of hope was washed away by the harsh reality of it all.
I was his daughter’s sensei.
Inappropriate.
“Why don’t we get you that water and get you back to bed,” Jake suggested, reaching over to peel his daughter off me.
“But I wanna see Sensei Mat,” she whined, clinging tighter to my shoulders.
“You’ll see me in a few days,” I reminded her. “And if you come a few minutes early, I can help run through your kata. I know you’ve been working really hard on it.”
“I think I actually know it all now. I can show you!” Her bright blue eyes glimmered with excitement as she bounced off my lap. She scampered to the middle of the living room and stood in ready stance.
She was just about to make the first move when Jake scooped her up. “No way, little lady,” he scolded, carrying her out of the room. I could hear her laughing as her dad carried her into the kitchen. I listened as the water ran. I heard a few snippets of conversation between them, but I couldn’t make out any specific details. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.
Jake was gone for five more minutes, five minutes where I sat awkwardly in his living room and waited. I thought aboutpulling out my phone, but I didn’t want him to think I was bored. Instead, I read and re-read his list. There was one idea that looked promising, and when he finally came back, I had it highlighted.
“Why haven’t we talked about this one?” I asked, motioning to the words on the screen.
“The silent auction?” He looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “It would require the same kind of community outreach that some of the other ideas needed. It didn’t seem practical.”
While his points were logical, they weren’t exactly correct. “It’s a silent auction,” I pointed out. “I have things that we can auction off for the students, and we can get donations from the other parents. We could possibly talk to a restaurant or two to donate evenings out. One of my friends has done a few for the animal shelter, and he might know who we can talk to for that.” That was different than requesting someone to host a fundraiser for the dojo. It would require some community outreach, but it wasn’t too much. I could get my friends to help me.
Ideas began to bloom in my head. I thought of ways we could expand his idea, grow it into something big enough to make a difference. “We could make a whole night of it,” I thought out loud. “I’ve been thinking about doing a parents’ night out at the dojo where the kids come and play games for a few hours. Kind of like a party. We could have this in conjunction with it.”
“So, you like the idea?” he asked. I could hear the excitement creeping into his words. The way his dark eyes sparkled reminded me of his daughter. It was pure, unfiltered joy. I wasn’t used to people who wore their heart on their sleeve the way that he did, and I liked that it didn’t leave me guessing. It also scared me, because what if I hadn’t imagined the soft way he’d looked at me and Emerson earlier?
