That call did not end well. Mrs. Blake, my advisor, strongly recommended against dropping the training program. The fitness evaluation was taking place during the first week of October and Mrs. Blake insisted on completing the intensive training course if I intended to start the Academy on a competitive basis. Then she reminded me how important my grades in the Academy would be in order to get the Brassington scholarship for the MilitarySchool.
"You'll get better at this," Blue tried to cheer me up when I told her about my advisor's ultimatum. "Just give it some time and you'll get used to Jerome's methods. The Military school is what you've always wanted."
I wondered what she would say if she knew what my real problem with training was.
"Matt was not so demanding," I said instead. "He helped me explore my limits. Jerome seems to be challenging me the whole time."
Blue gave me a quizzical look. "That's not what really bothers you, is it?"
I should have expected the question. It was the first time I was keeping secrets from my friends and I probably wasn't a good liar. Yet. That was the perfect moment to tell Blue the truth. But how could I explain something I wasn't sure I could explain to myself in the first place?
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Besides the fact that every muscle in my body aches?"
Blue gave me a wicked smile. "Well, just forget about him now. Let's get dressed. There's a band playing at the Waves tonight. I'm sure a night out will make you feel better."
A girls' night wasn't enough to make me forget the voices, Jerome, and that menacing shrink's couch. But being around Megan and Blue always made things easier. The bond we shared was very special and it was getting stronger year by year. There was a funny part; like the way we completed each other's sentences. But there was a darker part too; there had been times we could literally feel each other's emotions; even physical pain. But that was our secret. A secret we'd only shared with Sister Meredith. I used to think that a large part of that bond came from our wounded past. A wound carved from the suffering of loss.
Megan's parents had died in a car crash when she was eight years old. The only thing that bonded her to her past was a family album left by her grandma, her only relative, who died shortly after her parents' accident. I never told Megan, but I had always thought it was really strange to have only one photo of her parents in it. As I never told her that with her curly blonde hair she didn't look at all like her Latino parents.
Blue had never met her father, as he'd left her mom before Blue was born. She'd never talk about her mom either, except for that one time when she told us that her mother was an alcoholic who had died in her sleep. Blue had been the one to find her. Like Megan, she was only eight years old when that happened. On her sixteenth birthday, she changed her name from Maggie to Blue. It was the day she dyed her blonde hair in a light blue color. With her porcelain skin and green eyes, she looked almost ethereal; like a fairy that popped out from the pages of a story book.
The Waves club was close to the Academy and that made it very popular with students. It often hosted live shows with indie groups, otherwise the owners would always find a reason to have a party. Megan worked part-time waitressing there, so we had made it our favorite hang-out.
The night turned out far better than I had expected. The club was teeming with summer-school, Academy students, and only a few locals; sweaty bodies that swayed to the Latin rhythm the band played. I was savoring a strawberry mojito when I saw Jake wave at me, holding up a bottle of beer. I waved back and tried to hide my surprise when I saw him push his way among the crowd towards me. All of a sudden, the memory of Jerome pressed against my body made me sigh.
"Hey," Jake said leaning closer.
"Hi, Jake. I've never seen you here before. Are you sure you're in the right place?"
Jake didn't miss the bitter edge in my voice and smiled awkwardly. "I guess I deserved that. Listen, I wanted to apologize... For the other day... At the gym?"
I rattled the ice cubes in my nearly drained glass. "No need to. It was just..."
"Unacceptable. Totally unprofessional," he added.
I chuckled. "Honestly, what was that? Like, did you make a bet on who would fall first?"
Jake's eyes widened at my words. "Wow! You're good! What gave us away?"
Not exactly the answer I hoped for. "You did. Just now."
"Oops!" he said and I watched him try to wash down the bashfulness with a desperate gulp of beer. "I'm the worst when it comes to apologizing. I just..."
"Forget it, Jake, please. I'm just joking."
"Good. Because I promised Jerome I'd apologize."
"He made you do this?"
Another gulp of beer. "No. But he agreed it was the right thing to do. Did I mention I'm here on the behalf of the whole gang?"
"We're okay. Really."
"Good, good. Because we should be taking our job more seriously. Jerome's words."
"Of course. Training is a responsible job, I guess."
Only for a brief moment, Jake squinted skeptically in the dim light.
Beer interval again. "I hope that incident won't put you off; about your training I mean."
"Absolutely not," I said, thinking about all the other strange things that did put me off.
When the awkward phase wore off, Jake asked about my courses in Brassington Academy; that led us to discussing my training program. Before I knew it, I was asking about Jerome's whereabouts, but Jake shrugged and told me that last time he saw Jerome, he was at the gym pool. Giving me a puzzled look, he asked what I thought about Jerome training me.
"He's tough," I said.
Jake nodded with a lopsided smile. "He has to be. He's one of the best."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that.
"Don't worry. You're in good hands," Jake continued.
Attempting to shift the topic, I asked him about my previous trainer, Matt. I didn't make much out of Jake's evasive answers. It seemed that Matt had found another job in some place Jake was not eager to reveal. He did, however, convince me that Matt wasn't coming back to Brassington Hills.
A few minutes later, I watched Jake leave, thinking that I should be feeling relieved that Jerome was not around. I recalled his dark eyes and the warmth of his body against mine during our torturous training. I drained my glass in one sip.
"What did I miss?" Blue took Jake's place next to me.
"Not much. I'm going home" I told her, suddenly losing my good mood. "Are you coming?"
"Sure. I'm not letting you go home alone. That break-in the other day has creeped me out."
I couldn't argue that. Finding the door of the apartment I shared with the girls wide open and everything turned upside-down had caused a lot of worry to everyone in the guesthouse. Nothing was missing; of course, none of them had any valuables anyway. The police had not found any fingerprints, either. That made everyone think the whole situation could be just a freshmen prank.
The following training sessions with Jerome were even worse. There was more rope-jumping and weight-lifting but no voices, no challenging stares and, basically, no touching. Jerome, always taciturn and imposing, selected his training methods in a way that kept him at a safe distance from me. I, on the other hand, wasn't sure how that made me feel. Part of me was relieved that there was less awkwardness, but there was that other part that felt neglected and disappointed.
Until a couple of weeks later when things between us changed. The moment I saw Jerome that morning, I thought that something about him was different. Same hairdo, same black outfit, same pinball abs; yet, there was something about him that made him more appealing. Besides, he was smiling!
Of course, training was still hard. When I could not feel my arms and legs after a program of weight-lifting, Jerome gave me a pair of red boxing gloves and pointed to the punching bag.
"I'm not happy with your muscle strength." He looked at me briefly. "I don't know what you've been doing with Matt all this time."
"Well Matt acknowledged the fact that I'm not going for the Olympics," I said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jerome blinked, looking at me like I'd just said the craziest thing.
Thinking that this could be my window to come out clean, I went on. "I mean..." I cleaned my throat. "Look, I'm not exactly the kind of girl you..." I stopped before the wrong word came out. "... expected. You must have got that by now."
I watched his expression change from surprised to amused as the words sank in. "How do you know what I expected?" he asked.
"Look, I'm here because I have to, not because I like it."
Jerome arched a brow at me questioningly. "So, this attitude of yours, it's not because of me?"
"I don't have an attitude. And why would it be because of you?"
"Oh, come on I! I know you didn't want me to train you."
I suddenly realized I wasn't ready for that much honesty. "I just..." Once again words eluded me; apparently, I could not lie to him.
Jerome chuckled. "It's okay. I tried to avoid you too."
"You did?"
"No offense, but I'm not good at working with others."
"Same here."
He gave me a rueful smile, his eyes never leaving mine. "The guys thought you had a thing for Matt."
"What? This is ridiculous!"
The night at Waves flashed back to me with my persistent questions about Matt's whereabouts and Jake's suspicious look.
Jerome just shrugged and headed to the boxing rink. "If you say so."
"No, wait!" This is really embarrassing, I thought. Jerome stopped and turned to face me. "It's not about Matt and it's not about you. It's just... It's this thing I have. I need to have a steady routine around me. Whenever there's a change... I just don't do well...It makes me..." Okay, maybe I should drop Martial Arts for an intensive vocabulary course.
"Insecure?"
He'd said the right word. I could never admit it to myself, but when I heard him say it, it felt like a weight was lifted from my chest.
"So, you don't like training. What else don't you like?" Jerome asked.
I thought about how honest I should be with him.
"Fighting?" I said, without even thinking about it. Not totally true. Part of me had always loved fighting. I could recall some pretty messy wrestling matches back at the Shelter, not exactly the normal practice in the PE class. These always took place in the changing rooms or the dorms.
"Why don't we find out?" He threw a bottle of water to me. "Hey, I'm sorry if I put you in a spot here. I mean, I can only imagine how tough amnesia must be."
I braced myself for the pity attack that always ensued when my amnesia issue came up. I hated that part. But there was no expression of pity coming from Jerome. He just turned to the punching bag and held it steady.
"You look pissed again," he said.
I felt my body stiffen. "I'm not."
"Pissed is good," Jerome ignored me. "We can work with that." He gave me an irresistible smile. "Go ahead. Take it all out on the bag. Think of it as the reason for your amnesia." He raised a brow adding, "Or as me if it works for you. Let your anger out on it!"
He leaned slightly forward. "And, for the record, I'm not really fond of sporty girls."
I rolled my eyes, convincing myself that I had only imagined the flutter in my stomach. To think of the punching bag as Jerome, would make me feel much more than anger and I meant to spare myself the mortification, at least for that day.
"You want me to visualize the hurricane that almost had me drowned?"
"You think it was the hurricane. I'm saying it's ...this bag," Jerome smirked.
I hit the bag, softly at first and then I kept on harder and harder. Jerome was watching me intently and I tried to focus on the bag, hitting hard, almost forgetting where I was and discovering how I was enjoying the blows. One blow after another, my mind must have gone blank. I was lost in an unprecedented trance, my fists having a mind of their own, hitting the bag with incredible force again and again.
"Woa! Slow down!" Jerome was standing behind me, holding my arms steady as I tried to jerk away from him. "Madison, what just happened?"
"What do you mean?" I turned to face him.
"I've been trying to stop you for a few minutes now."
I tried to catch my breath, realizing that the muscles of my arms were burning me. My knuckles felt sore and tingling. But that wasn't what worried me. I was hot and all flustered up with an overwhelming sensation; an unparalleled hunger. Not hunger for food but for something else. Something sweet I could not exactly define. Something that was definitely wrong. I tried to blink away the feeling.
"Maybe, I visualized too much?" I said among fast breaths, turning to him.
"I wonder..." Jerome was looking at me, but there was no hint of worry in his eyes. Instead, there was a spark of satisfaction in their darkness and... Could it be desire that made him look like he wanted to devour me? And what was that weird attraction, that almost magnetic pull? It made me move closer to Jerome, pulling my body hard against his.
"This is not the place... Mortals are watching." His lips had not moved, but I heard the voice again.
I was still fazed by the surge of energy that emanated from somewhere deep inside as my body responded to Jerome's unspoken call. I could almost touch the invisible twirl of power that encircled us. There was nowhere else to go but to him; it was never a matter of choice. I just didn't know it by then.
Jerome made a step back and I felt immediately released. My lungs were on fire and my heart pumped frantically. I closed my eyes in an effort to calm down and re-connect with reality.
"Let it go," the voice said.
"Madison are you alright? Do you want to take a break?" Jerome was speaking to me, sounding worried. Was it possible that I was the only one who'd felt all that? Well, I was the one hearing voices.
Opening my eyes, I studied his face.
"Let it go."
"Actually, yes," I said eventually. "Do you mind if we call it a day? I'm not feeling well."
He looked concerned for a moment before letting me go.
On my way out, my cell buzzed. Before answering it, I saw that there were two missed calls from Blue. Megan's voice sounded worried.
"Mads?"
"Hey, Megan."
"Is everything okay?"
"Fine, why?"
"I had this strange feeling about you and... I had to call. Blue couldn't reach you either."
"I was at the gym. I'm on my way now."
"But, something's going on, right?"
"I'll tell you everything. And Megan, tell Blue it's comfort food alert. I'm in no mood for a healthy diet right now."
"I'm on it Mads. See you."
Brownies and cool chocolate were enough to make me unravel all the steamy moments with my sexy trainer. Of course, I left out the voices and the hair-raising stuff.
The girls' verdict was that I should make the first move.
"He doesn't want to look unprofessional by hitting on you," Blue said.
"Blue's right. You have to take him out of there. Ask him out, see how he acts when he's not your trainer," Megan agreed.
Blue's unusually grave face alarmed me. "What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"Just make sure you're being careful," Blue said.
"Your instincts kicked in?" I teased.
Blue shrugged. "I just don't want you to get hurt." Her eyes met Megan's and an eerie silence followed.
In the following session, I did not know what to expect. Once again, I was torn in two; part of me was looking forward to it when another part was terrified by the possibility of losing control once more. But when Jerome asked me to punch that bag again, I never lost control.
"That's enough punching for today," he said and headed to the exercising mat.
"Let's do some pushups, Madison. Give me twenty."
I fell on the floor, balancing my weight on my hands and toes. One, two, three...
"Straighten your back!" Jerome barked at me.
...four, five, "OUCH!" I collapsed on the mat. Jerome was on my side instantly.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't move my leg."
Jerome's eyes narrowed. "It's probably a cramp. Lie back."
I had to comply. I couldn't tell if it was the tone of his voice that invoked something inside my mind, leaving me no choice, or just the pain that was too sharp to play smart. Besides, a wicked part of me relished seeing him worried about me.
Jerome took my shoe and sock off to stretch my leg and push my toes backwards. I could feel the muscle on my calf start to loosen up.
"Better?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
I just nodded.
Jerome started massaging my foot with slow moves, pressing on the right spots to make my muscles relax.
"How's that?" he asked.
"That feels... great actually," I whispered.
"I'm sorry. It's probably my fault. I pushed you too hard," he apologized, making me smile.
"You seem to be taking this too personally."
"Madison, I could not care less about your grades. That should not be your motivation either."
"Like..." My train of thought was disrupted and a low moan escaped my lips as Jerome brought his hands to my calf to massage my tense muscle. Too embarrassed, I bit my lip and regretted it right away when Jerome's look shifted to my mouth.
"You were saying?" he asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"Like I'm going to fight for my life," I said.
He looked back to my leg. "Eventually, you may have to. You must be prepared."
Ok, he was just been overdramatic. The only reason I suffered this torture called training program was that someone had imposed it on me. Fight for my life? Yeah, I'd been there. I'd fought for my life once and it sucked. Part of me hoped I'd never have to do it again, but there was that other dark part that longed for it. The part that still wanted a career in the army. A life of fighting. Never to be afraid again.
"Anyway, I don't think it's entirely your fault. It's this darn diet I'm on. Blue's idea."
"What did you have today?" Jerome asked putting my sock and shoe back.
I shrugged. "Just fruit and yogurt."
"Let's get you up." He helped me up, a questioning look on his face.
"It's okay. Doesn't hurt anymore. Thanks," I said.
"Just take it easy," Jerome said, giving me a towel.
I felt his stare on me as I wiped away the sweat from my forehead and shoulders, but his intense look no longer made me uncomfortable. My mouth twitched, realizing I had started to enjoy the way Jerome seemed to be studying me. What girl wouldn't want a gorgeous, mysterious guy's attention? Especially when that guy was the one girls used to call "the dark demi-god", notorious for been frigid, remote and sullen the whole time like he was carrying the whole world on his shoulders. The same guy who was now staring at me like I was something precious.
I put the towel around my neck, giving him a large grin.
Jerome arched a brow. "What's so amusing?"
"I guess exercising got my endorphins going."
"That's much better than your boxing mood," he smirked.
The memory of the punch-bag incident was had mysteriously fading by now; when I tried to unravel it, my mind seemed to be stuck at the same motto: Let it go. But I still felt its aftershocks, which translated into embarrassment from too much involuntary exposure.
"Can we please forget about that? I don't know what happened to me."
"I think you're I think you're in the process of discovering yourself. And I love to be a part of it."
I squeezed the ball I'd made with the towel between my hands. "Do you really believe that?"
Jerome's face lit up and his mouth curled as he gave me an-almost-flirtatious look."Girls like you are very rare in this world I StClaire," he said. "I'd like to know what's behind that reluctant fighter's façade".
I watched him open a bottle of water and take a sip.
"What if you don't like what you find?" I asked.
"I'm willing to take the risk," he said and turned away. "Same time tomorrow?" he asked over his shoulder.
I was there a little too early the next day. Jerome's surprised expression lasted only for a brief moment. Then he told me that we were going jogging in the park.
Forty-five minutes later we were catching our breath, stretching our legs against a wooden bench. Jerome had been quiet the whole time and I wondered if he was back in sullen mode.
"I'm glad we straightened things out yesterday," I said.
Jerome was still looking away.
"Sorry I made you think I wanted to punch you," I insisted.
That attracted his attention. "Did I say that?"
"Says the guy who told me to think of the punching bag as him! Why would you say such a thing?"
"You tell me."
"Ok. I don't, did not, like you. You're right. But I think you have somehow grown on me."
Jerome smiled. "Funny. I could say that same thing about you. Can I just ask one thing? What is it that you don't like about me?"
"Well...it's more of an instinct. Sometimes you are weird."
That was the first time I heard him laugh. "No more weird then. I'll race you to the gate when you're ready," he challenged me.
"Wait," I insisted. "Since we're stuck together, I think we should start over."
Jerome chuckled. "Okay. Ask me anything you want to know as long as I get to ask you back."
"Deal. Hey, do you like Mexican? There's a nice restaurant I like, Il Bandito?"
His face turned naughty. "Are you asking me out, Madison?"
Bad idea, I thought. How pathetic I must have sounded.
I tried to play casual. "Oh, I thought dinner would be a good idea to... Never mind. Forget I said that."
"It's settled then. We have a date," Jerome said. "Do you want me to pick you up?"
I thought about it for a moment. Did I want Jerome to suffer Megan's and Blue's awkward staring and embarrassing questions?
"No, it's just a couple of blocks from my place. I'll meet you there."
"How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I like Mexican food."
"I didn't."
Jerome studied me for another long moment. "Ok. Ready?" he asked eventually.
"Always," I said, but the tone of my voice was anything but convincing.
I gave him the head start. What was the point? I was going to lose after all.