How to Seduce a Punk

Step 4. Ask Her to Train With You

"Alright!" I clapped my hands, the sharp clap ringing out through the hall as the array of hopeful gymnasts before me looked up.

Most of them would, like I had when I sat in their position, two years ago, have arrived expecting to be put straight in the team, having aced their competitions in school. There were more fish to compete with in the university sea.

"Hands up if you already compete for a club!" I shouted out.

About sixty percent of the hands went up, and I smirked inside. That wouldn't last long. Unless you were really serious about this, they wouldn't find the time to do two sets of gymnastics and maintain a social life. (I, on the other hand, didn't give two craps about my social life, so I spent all my free time doing sports and watching TV.)

"Here's the deal. If you're part of a club, and you get into my team, you've got to choose which is your priority. If you can't promise to commit to this, you can't be part of it. I can't have people quitting two weeks before a competition. Leave whenever you like, but if you're in the team, you come to training, and if you're in a competition, you make the commitment. Understood?"

There was a general murmur of consent. I nodded once. "I'm not going to be watching all of you today. We're filtering out most of you, and looking for about fifteen new people to replace the lot that left last year. We're getting down to thirty or so today, and we'll ask those thirty to come back on Thursday, same time. If you've got a problem with that, talk to me at the end. Questions?"

"Do we ever do competitions with the men's team?" someone at the back yelled.

"Sometimes we do mixed," Amy said from beside me. "Usually we don't."

As I, and the rest of the people I'd asked to help me organise the trials, began to section people off, I considered the fact that, five years ago, I'd have been petrified at the idea of public speaking, let alone captaining a team and organising trials.

Despite how self-conscious I'd been as a teenager, despite my fear of my own sexuality and the shame I felt towards my body, I'd become someone new. Melissa had helped me to become someone new, someone better, someone I liked.

And, maybe, that was another reason I couldn't let her go.

Because she'd shown me who I had the potential to be.

***

"That was chaotic," I said, once the hopefuls had been dismissed and I was walking out of the changing rooms with Chloe, who was one of the few people who didn't annoy me more than fifty percent of the time, and Zara, who had more piercings than I did. She'd also dyed her hair every colour under the sun. It was currently bright red with black and purple highlights.

Chloe grimaced, braiding her hair messily as we walked. We probably looked like an odd trio. Myself, with an edgy look but appearing mild in comparison to Zara, who sported a wicked grin and an eyebrow piercing that made her look incredibly threatening, and Chloe, in soft, brown suede boots, a cardigan and a light blue shirt.

"Tell me about it," Chloe said. "I hate trials. They're all convinced they're the shit."

Zara shrugged. "At least we can get rid of the ones that are really going to piss us off." She glanced at me. "Coming for a smoke?"

I shook my head. "I'm trying to kick the habit. Stressful situations only. Besides, you'd be smoking something illegal, and if Becca ever found out she'd murder me. Slowly."

Zara grinned. "I like your roommate."

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling slightly. I loved Zara and Chloe to pieces. Chloe was studying journalism, and Zara was going for psychology. I often wondered whether Melissa and Zara would have gotten along. They were very similar, in some ways, though whereas Melissa was undoubtedly feminine, Zara held a huge streak of stereotypical-masculinity in her mannerisms.

"I'm going to the gym," I said. "I need to work off some steam. Chloe?"

She shook her head. "I need to speed-write an essay. See you two on Thursday. Don't be a stranger, Cat."

I smiled. "Never."

***

I spent just less than an hour in the gym, and felt considerably less stressed than I had went I went in. I was dripping with sweat as I walked out, my headphones still blasting Panic! At The Disco loudly in my ears.

I nearly cursed out loud when I saw the figure approaching me, and attempted to duck my head and look away, but it was too late. Our eyes had met, and Jace was grinning, looking like he was relishing the chance to irritate me with some insufferable conversation today.

"Been running, Parker?" he asked, towel thrown over his shoulder, dressed in a t-shirt and gym shorts. I was a little surprised that he hadn't gone for tight lycra. And that he didn't have his phone out to take those goddamn gym selfies.

"Rowing, actually," I replied. "Running is what you do at the beginning, or when you feel the need to trim down your thighs."

He grinned. "Oh, I like a woman who knows that cardio goes before weights."

I shrugged. "Rowing is cardio and muscle. But it works for me."

He looked me up and down, very deliberately. "I can see that."

I scowled at him. I wasn't interested in being the object of his man-whoring, and I was covered in sweat, so my clothes were sticking to me. I didn't want him staring at me. It made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"Quit staring," I snapped. "Go woo someone else in there with your miraculous weight-lifting."

He watched me steadily for a moment, his eyes on my face, not my body. "Train with me."

I nearly choked. "Pardon?"

"Train with me. Tomorrow, come to the gym, and train with me."

I laughed. "You're joking, right? Why would I want to train with you?"

He shrugged. "You're a fitness freak. So am I. We could both learn something." He paused for a moment. "Consider it. Text me."

"I don't have your number."

"Ask Becca. I'll see you around, Parker."

I stared after him. That had to be some kind of joke. If Jace wanted to go to the gym with me, it would be because he wanted to get into my pants, not because he wanted to know which combinations of weights I used in supersets.

And perhaps I should have been flattered, but I was furious. If Jace thought I'd be jumping into bed with him at the first sign of a bicep, he had another thing coming to him.

Besides, I wasn't going to be screwing around with anyone, let alone Jace. God, I hadn't even kissed anyone since Melissa. And that had been more than a year ago.

***

"Becca!" I shouted as I walked into our dorm room. "I swear, your fucking asshole of a brother—"

"Jesus, Cat, stop yelling," she complained, looking up from her phone. "What did he do?"

"He's such a man-whore." I huffed as I threw my gym bag down and lunged towards my laptop.

Becca tapped her phone against the wall impatiently. "What did he do, Cat?"

"He asked me to go to the gym with him tomorrow. I swear, if he tries anything—"

"Oh!" She brightened visibly. "That's why he asked me to give you his number. I thought it was kind of weird. I mean, I love you, but you're not really his type. He's more into—"

"Dumb blondes who throw themselves at him. I know." I flicked through my emails, checking to see whether I had confirmation that the time I'd booked the hall for rehearsals was free.

Becca frowned. "Don't be so dramatic. And I really don't think he's going to try anything."

I waved a hand. "Whatever. If he does, I'll kill him, so it's all good."

"You're crazy," Becca muttered.

I smiled sweetly. "I know."