The War

IV - THE RISE

By the time we've reached the training grounds, I feel a lot more nervous than I did leaving my dorm.

I'm not sure I'm ready for combat. I've been training almost my whole life for this moment, and yet, it feels so foreign.

Like I don't belong here.

"Well, your room is over there. To the left by the water fountains." Kia stops by the door labeled "Room 507" and points.

"Wish me luck, Kia. I'm definitely going to need it."

She smiles at me.

I don't think she understands that I was being serious.

I make my way over to the water fountains and as I'm about to open the door, I realize that it's cracked. He's waiting. 

Nick must've heard me, because before I can even enter the room, he clears his throat. "Are you just going to linger around outside or are you going to come in?"

Six a.m. and he's already got an attitude. 

I push the door open and drop my duffel bag against the wall, "The first option seemed a lot more calm than the latter, considering your condescending personality can't seem to give anyone a break this early in the morning."

'Who said I couldn't?"

"Me, obviously."

"And you claim that I'm condescending," he mutters.

I look up from the ground to see him staring at me harshly. I must've pissed him off.

As usual.

Nick's wearing a blue compression shirt so dark that it almost seems black and navy blue joggers. His hair is splayed all across his face and if he wasn't scowling, he'd almost look childlike. 

Kind of how he was before he left.

How he was before he gained 100 pounds and shot up in height.

Everything just feels wrong about him now.

It was easy to stand up for myself when he was shorter than me. Weaker than me. The Nick standing in front of me is neither of those, and it bothers me. Partially because I don't want him to have that kind of leverage. But, I can't help but find it a little intimidating, too.

He lets out a short huff and rises from the metal chair he was sitting in.

"Do yourself a favor and take off your shoes," Nick walks over so he's standing directly in front of me.

"I didn't come here to sell pictures of my feet, Nicholas, I came here to train. Keep your fetishes to yourself."

He stares down at me and blinks. 

Once.

Twice.

Three slow times. 

Then he turns his head and makes his way over to his bag. "As much as you'd love to think I want to see your feet, I was just trying to help you keep a better stance on the ground. Those beaten up tennis shoes won't get you anything but a face plant to the floor."

Oh.

"My shoes aren't beaten up. They're new," I say through closed teeth while I slide them off.

"They look fairly old to me, Emilyn. Perhaps you've mistaken your new shoes with your great grandmother's clogs from 1913."

Aren't we supposed to be training? God forbid he closes his mouth for once. I understand that I'm probably enabling him, but he can still be the bigger person.