Page 8 of 1 Last Shot

I let go of it as if burned.

"I'm going to check out the Philadelphia Ballet this week sometime," I finally force out. "I figure with so many changes going on in my life, it would help to have something I'm comfortable with."

Hailey nods, suddenly looking too distracted with the water bottle in her hand.

"Let me know if you want some company. I don't do ballet, but I'm sure the teachers there could always do with some entertainment."

That makes me laugh, and Hailey immediately looks relieved. It helps me forget all about the awkward conversation that I don't want to have.

We hear a clap from across the room. "Alright, ladies, let's get started," comes Jane's voice.

I enjoy this class just as much as I did yesterday's. When I first had this idea, Ireallywasn't sure how it was going to go, or if I would be back again. I've been an expert in this art for so long, I forgot what it was like to be a student. To show up in a new environment, pay someone to tell me what to do, and then be bad at something. It's refreshing.

But I’m also sore and groaning at the aches by the time class is over and Hailey and I start to stretch out.

"You know, I thought leaving the New York Ballet meant I'd finally be able to enjoy a nice, relaxed dance class," I say on a groan. "I don't think Jane got the memo."

Hailey chuckles from her place beside me. “If you’re trying to convince me that an amateur contemporary dance class is harder than the New York City Ballet, you're going to have to try a little harder. I've heard whispers about what the training is like up there and, honestly, I don't know how any of you do it. It seems grueling."

I deepen my stretch with a sigh. "It was. Sometimes I don't know how I did it for so long."

Hailey casts me a curious look. "I've just never understood how you could beso immersedin it for basically your entire life. I would've needed a side hobby or something just to give myself time away from everything."

Biting into my lower lip, I debate taking the opening Hailey has unwittingly given me. I'm not nearly ready to talk about everything that happened with my career, but talking to someone about the side hobby I picked upbecauseof ballet is an easy way to practice opening up to someone.

"I actually got into yoga for that reason,” I admit after a moment. “The stretching was obviously helpful and the practice itself was nice, but it was more of a mental help than anything. Quieted the stress a little."

"Oooh, that sounds like the perfect side hobby. Do you still do it?"

I nod my answer. Then, hesitantly, I add, "I actually got certified to teach yoga. After I… stopped ballet, it gave me something to focus on. To work toward. And, I don't know, maybe even something to do as a job."

If Hailey senses the weight of my words, she doesn't let it show. "We should bring you into the gym to teach a yoga class for the fighters. God, I can't even imagine how bad they would be at it," she says with a giggle.

I laugh along with her but don't respond. Her comment has me thinking about the MMA gym and the questions that have been rolling around in my head since I accidentally walked in. About the sport, the training, even the fighters themselves.

About one particular fighter.

"You said your sister fights, right?" I ask. "That's how you ended up at the gym?"

Hailey furrows her brow in concentration. "It's kind of a long story, but Jax, my boyfriend, is how my sister ended up at the gym. We all grew up together, and then Jax and I started dating last year. So long answer short, I go for both of them."

And with perfect timing, her boyfriend chooses that moment to walk into the room. He waves at a now-smiling Hailey, and then takes a seat in one of the chairs to wait for us to finish stretching out.

I study him for a moment. He's big, and his muscles are obvious, but I don't think I'd guess that he was a fighter at first glance. He doesn't look anything like the guy who was beating the bag to a pulp at the gym.

"Are fighters as violent as they seem?" I ask, trying to sound more curious than judgmental. "I just don't understand the sport beyond what I've seen on TV. I always figured fighting would appeal to dangerous people."

We both turn to look at the waiting area where Hailey's boyfriend is.

And watch as the blonde giant leans down to one of the dancers to hear what she has to say. He reaches up to the nearby shelf and lifts a pair of ballet slippers off the ledge, passing them to the tiny dancer with a smile.

"Yeah, he's terrifying," Hailey says in a flat voice, her brow quirked when she looks back at me.

"Okay, clearly not him,” I say with a chuckle. “But it's not the kind of sport you can pick up if youdon'tlike violence, right? Why would someone willingly get into a ring with someone who wants to hurt them?"

Hailey sighs. "Okay, yes, MMA is inherently violent. But it's not nearly as bad as it seems. There hasn't been a death or a serious injury in the UFC since it was started. Football is actually way more dangerous, believe it or not. Nowadays, you have to be an intelligent, disciplined athlete to compete in MMA. You can't just be in it for the violence."

I let out a thoughtful hum, mulling over Hailey's words. I understand what she's saying, but it's difficult to reconcile her words with the memory of hate-filled punches being thrown at a heavy bag.

---