𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓
HERE'S THE BULK OF THE IRONY: for having a surname like Lovelace, Chantara had never understood the feeling of love. To care for another human without any strings attached. It was something she never seemed to grasp, becau...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
BEN'S KNUCKLES WERE SWOLLEN RED, his skin heated and glazed with sweat as it fell down his face, like droplets of rain on a window. His head leaned to the side, a tiger looking at its pray, a quick breath escaping his lips before advancing on her. He was fast, bending his leg and extending his knuckle toward her face, using his other hand to protect his own.
Tara ducked, dodging him by mere inches. Her eyes flickered to his waist that had become an open target, she twisted her abdomen, hitting him lightly in the ribs. Hearing the ticklish gasp leaving his mouth, she straightened herself, taking a step back, hands shielding her face. "Too slow," she pointed out, cocking her head and arching a brow.
His foot slinked behind hers like poisonous vine, and before she had time to react, Tara was halfway down towards the ground. The air in her lungs exited harshly as she collided with the rough surface that scratched her skin. She looked up at him, anger wrinkling her features as she blew strands of hair away from her eyes. Ben leaned over her with a confident grin stretching on his lips, "Too cocky," he said.
Tara grimaced, and from the corner of her eye she could see his calf. With a quick turn, she grasped it with her hands, pulling it toward her, making the boy lose his balance. Ben stumbled to his knees, wincing at the impact of the ground. "Too proud," she mimicked him.
"Okay," he breathed. "I deserve that one." Taking a second to brush off the pain in his knees, Ben eyed the calloused skin on his hands; red, harsh, rough. He pushed himself off the ground and stretched his arms above his head before offering her a hand. Tara watched it hover in the air in front of her face. Frowning, she slapped it away and stumbled upon her feet by herself.
Tara brushed her trousers and cracked her knuckles, a sound that made the boy cringe. She released her hair from the messy ponytail and combed back the strands that had escaped, making sure to tie a tighter knot this time. She rolled her shoulder back and got into a fighting stance. "Let's go again."
"Do you ever do this called resting?" Ben asked. She tilted her head questionably and he continued. "Don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking out early mornings or coming in late at night. What is it you do?"
She scratched her chin with the back of her hand. "I train."
"No, seriously."
"I am serious," Tara explained. "I do a little bit of running, some push-ups, pull-ups on that bar over there if I'm feeling like it, throwing knives — theusual. There's nothing else I do."
"Ahh," Ben sat down again, hugging his legs with his arms. "So you're not fucking Eric then?"
"Excuse—"
"—You really think I haven't noticed the tension between you two?" He grinned teasingly. She wanted to wipe away the look on his face with a good punch. "You're always eyeing each other, his voice gets like... ten times deeper when he's talking to you — you know? And he puffs up his chest, all the while you look like you just want to rip his clothes off or something."
