Tug-at-your-heartstrings new adult first love story.
What starts as a bet to avoid cleanup duties at her minimum wage cashier job, wins Amelie D'Amico more than she's ever hoped for.
When Ben, a cute customer who always checkouts at her register, fi...
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"What did you sign me up for?" I inspect other adults of various ages in the room.
The tall Greek God, aka Mike, greets us at the door wearing a white robe and pants. The room behind him is spacious and full of people.
"Take off your shoes and leave them here." Ben leads me to the matted part of the floor.
"This is our Monday night Taekwondo class," says Mike. "Adults only. Follow me and your fellow students. Do your best and don't worry about perfection. I'll answer any of your questions after class. I promise it'll all make sense." Mike looks at home in the open studio, and even Ben appears to be in his element.
I'm the only one wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, while the rest of the students have on white uniforms, they call 'dobok', feet bare on the large blue mat. I don't want to be here. It's the worst day to start something new. I should've said no. But I line up, and Mike shouts something from the front of the room that requires everyone to bow. Even Ben, who's standing to the side and observing, joins in.
We start with mediation. What? That's not what I was expecting. The calming practice won't turn my rejection letters into acceptances, but a small dose of calmness enters my mind. Next is stretching, which is nice, because my muscles have been in a constant state of low-grade ache from the walks and swims with Ben. I relish the pleasant pain of stretching the tense parts.
The warmup isn't that hard either. Maybe it wasn't a terrible idea, and I can do this. When the time comes to kicks and blocks on repeat, I look like a turtle trying to punch the air. Nothing is sharp about my movements, but I'm enthusiastic. The physicality of sparring drains me. I'm ready to throw up by the time the class ends with another deep bow.
Sweat covers my body, and I'm damp, hot, and certain my muscles will scream at me for the next day or five. The reason for Ben's state at the store on Tuesday nights makes perfect sense.
The class ends and the students stand in groups and chat or approach Mike for advice. The feeling of being the new kid on the block intensifies. Two women—one of thema short-haired brunette who was my sparring partner at some point in the class—come over and greet me with wide smiles.
"Hi, I'm Lena. And this is Georgie." She moves her head in the direction of the brunette. "They told us Ben's girlfriend would be joining the class today. We've been so curious to meet you."
Girlfriend. I've never referred to my relationship with Ben that way. And who's everyone? The whole place has been talking about me, it sounds like. Are these girls curious about me because they like Ben? Feels like competition. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or afraid.
"Hi, I'm Amélie." My palms are getting sweatier. I didn't know that was possible. "Nice to meet you both." I give them an awkward wave.
"We didn't think you really existed," pipes up the other woman.
"Yeah, Ben made you sound so glamorous."
I try not to look at my sweat stained T-shirt. Yeah, that's me, glamourous.
"So, what did you think?"
"Intense. It was a lot more of a workout than I had anticipated, but then the stretching and mediation were unexpected. And it was loud: I didn't plan to say things, and I didn't understand any of what was said."
"It's a full-body workout, that's for sure," Lena says. "And don't worry about the commands in Korean. It's a matter of repetition. You did great."
More students come over and cheer me on, assuming I'll be coming back. This morning, the idea terrified me. It still terrifies me, but deep down, it's kinda nice to be included. With the new timeline of staying at least till next fall, I might give this a chance.
"I see you've met everyone," Mike's voice joins the chorus of excited chatter around me.
"You are a good teacher, Mike.."
He lifts his hands to stop me. "Sabum Stavros, I'm afraid."
"What is Sabum?"
"That's instructor in Korean."
"Really?"
"I'm very serious about this one. Discipline, respect, and politeness are always a focus in martial arts." I nod. I can see where Ben gets those qualities from.
"What next, Sabum Stavros? And where's Ben?"
"He's waiting for us in the office. I'll take you there and introduce you to the owner—Master Chang."
Photos from various years cover the walls of the hallway leading to the office. Mike stops in front of one of them.
"This was the year Ben and I met," he says.
I come closer: the two boys in the photo are holding their certificates. One grinning ear to ear and the other staring at the floor ahead of him—lips squeezed into a fake almost smile.
"Is this you?" I point to the goofy, smiling youth. "I mean, Ben looks like himself, plus the baby face, but you?"
"Oh yeah, the uniform I'm wearing makes me look even skinnier than I was, and the braces, the rampant acne, the Justin Bieber haircut—genuine middle school Mike. I didn't get my growth spurt until sixteen."
"I would've never recognized you," I say. "I imagined a football star and a ladies' man, not this." I grin at the picture.
"Hey, don't insult my looks. I was very proud of my braces," Mike laughs. "In all seriousness, I was fucking struggling at my school after I moved here in the middle of the ninth grade. Master Redmond from my dojang in LA knew Master Chang, who agreed to take me on. Ben and I didn't even talk to each other at first. But after sparring together for a while, he impressed me with how fucking helpful he was. He talked so much about the technique, and I envied his singular focus. Then it turned out we both were into video games, so I invited him over, and we clicked. We even won a HALO championship together once. We were both awkward, and it didn't bother either of us. That was ten years ago."
Ben as a teenager was cute and gangly. He's still cute but he grew into his body. Mike grew a whole other face and body for himself. "Wow. An unlikely pair, but I can see the history you two have."
"He's a great guy." Mike's not joking around anymore. "I hope you understand that."
