Page 33 of Allure

I try to stare at him, to see anything about him that might help identify him later, and he lifts the gun to shove the barrel against my throat instead, shoving it so hard that I gag and try to step back but can’t because of his grip.

What the hell is the point of taking karate lessons when I have no idea how to defend myself from the first guy who tries to mug me?

Who succeeds in mugging me. I watch as he slides his finger over toward the trigger.

“Here!”

I didn’t bring my purse with me, opting to have it in my jean skirt pocket. Yes, I have a jean skirt with decently sized pockets, and yes, that does mean I have five of them.

As soon as I yank out my wallet, I toss it to the side, heaving the throw. The guy bolts after it, and I hurry to my car, driving away before I can even think about trying to tail the guy.

Numb. My hands shake so much that my drive home has to look erratic. If a cop saw me, he would’ve pulled me over and breathalyzed me.

I’m so numb that I don’t even bring the groceries with me to the dorm room. Although I hear laughter from the suite next door, I ignore my friends, climb onto my bed, curl into a ball, and try not to think about what happened.

Even though it plays on a repeating loop in my mind for hours and hours.

Monday morning comes, and I’m the first one to the first class of the day, but I don’t head inside. I wait and wait and wait around for Declan.

When he sees me from down the hall, he—you guessed it—smirks. His eyes widen slightly as I march down to him and jab a finger at his chest.

“You can take the dojo and shove it up your ass,” I snarl. “What good is the fucking place when you don’t ever teach anything worthwhile? How long am I supposed to wait to learn how to defend myself? Seriously, it’s not as if punches and kicks can’t be defended because they can be!”

During my last class, we even did drills to parry kicks, duck under hook punches without bending forward and only bending at the knees, and checking kicks, which netted me even more bruises.

I guess that counts as self-defense, but that had been worthless last night.

“Why are you so worried about defending yourself?” he asks. “Afraid—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say something to belittle me!” I go to put a hand on my throat but don’t. I’m not sure what possessed me to pack a sleeveless mock turtleneck, but that’s what I’m wearing to cover the bruise.

I grab the collar and yank it down so hard I can hear my turtleneck scream in protest, the material maybe ripping a little.

“Not a fucking hickey,” I hiss.

Just like that, all pretenses of his tormenting and teasing me are gone. He steps closer, and his brown eyes suddenly turn so very dark. I want to back away from him, but I don’t, allowing him to invade my space, maybe even wanting him to.

Because I watched Declan spar with the other black belts. He’s strong, and he knows what he’s doing even when his opponents know the same moves that he does.

He can wipe anyone off the mat.

He would know how to protect me from anyone.

Fuck that. It’s his job to teach me how to protect myself, and he failed.

“I need to learn how to defend myself against more than just assholes who run their lips. I need to learn how to protect myself against the real threats out there in the real world. If you can’t help me or anyone with this, why the hell do you think you deserve to teach on any mat?”

Before he can answer, I fix my turtleneck, which now hangs slightly away from my throat when it had been right up tight against my skin just moments ago, and enter the classroom. I flinch inwardly when I accidentally catch a gaze from one of his friends who has green eyes.

Maybe I should’ve reported the crime. Maybe I should’ve at least notified the store so that the asshole mugger can’t get away with it again.

At least I did have the presence of mind to cancel all of my cards before he had a chance to use any of them. All he really got out of me was my meal card, my driver's license, and twenty bucks. I don't make it a habit to carry a lot. I should probably notify campus police… Nah. I'll just go and get myself a new meal card and have the old one deactivated. I mean, the meal cards have our faces on them, so I don't see how the asshole can try to get away with using it, so there's that. Not having my driver's license is a bit of a pain in the ass. I hadn't even thought about that on the drive home.

Needless to say, I don’t concentrate at all during my first class or any of my others that day. I’m still in a daze, just going through the motions.

How is it that the rest of the world seems so normal? Everyone is trapped in their own bubbles, and they have no idea what the person next to them is going through.

After my classes, I do get a new meal card, but instead of eating lunch, I head to the fitness center and probably almost hurt myself because I pick up way too heavy weights.

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