Ballerina and the Boxer

I don't know how I ended up at the gym. I had finished class just an hour before and now I was standing outside of the big brick building I ran away from just the night before. I held the piece of paper in my hand with his chicken scratch handwriting.

The gym looked different during the day. There weren't lines of people and it didn't smell of beer. It actually looked pretty nice in the light; the building itself sturdy and clean.

I took a deep breath and headed towards the door. I don't know if it were curiosity or a weird attachment to this man. He was rude and mean and way out of line when he showed up at the studio. But when I looked into his eyes I could see loneliness. He was stubborn, just like me, but there was something in the sea of green that was missing. Everyone has a story.

When I walked in, the room was open. The ceiling was high and it still smelt of sweat but the lingering humidity and loud cheers was nonexistent. There were grunts and smacks from the boxers practicing, but I could breathe knowing there wasn't the possibility of people trampling over me.

"Can I help you?"

A voice startled me, causing me to jump.

"Umm, is Harry here?" he nodded, his dreads held back with a band, and pointed towards a small room.

"He's on the elliptical. You can go in."

I smiled hesitantly, and weaved my way through mats and body gear and men training. I avoided all gazes and whistles, scurrying as fast as I could. The door was like a window, allowing me to see Harry without entering. He was facing away from me, holding a steady pace. His arms pumped and their were weights on his ankles. His hair was up in a bun and he wore a sweatshirt and sweat pants. I knew that had to be terrible for his health but it wasn't my place. Why was I even here?

Pulling at my sleeve, I turned the door knob so I didn't have to make contact with my hand. I could see a white wire hanging out of his shorts, indicating he was listening to music. Forced to tap him on the shoulder, I took a large step back when he tripped over a weight and stumbled off the machine. I tried to stifle a laugh but his shock of my appearance was hilarious. Who knew he would be so skittish?

He pulled his head phones off and eyebrows creased as his eyes met mine. I held my lip between my teeth and put out my hand to help him up, "sorry."

Harry shook his head and stood, leaving my hand useless. I crossed my arms as he recomposed himself and grabbed his water from the cement floor.

"So, you asked for me."

He didn't talk for a minute, chugging his water as if he were thinking of what to say. I wondered if he was just as unsure as I was. Why did he want me here anyway?

"Didn't think you'd actually show."

"Well, I'm here. So, what did you need?"

"Come here," he pulled my forearm and I follow him back to the training area. He took my bag off my shoulder and slid it against a wall before pulling his sweatshirt over his head.

"What am I doing here, Harry?"

"I'm going to teach you how to fight."

"What? I don't want to know how to fight. If I wanted self-defense lessons, I'd sign up on my own."

"I'm not giving you lessons. I'm showing you that boxing is more than, 'grown men beating each other for fun'."

He tore his t-shirt off next, leaving him just in shorts that fell knee length and athletic shoes. I was still arms crossed, a few feet away from him. I had changed so I was now wearing a pink, Cardinal Studio t-shirt, and grey sweatpants.

"I don't have shoes."

"Your flats are fine," he smirked happily.

"I can't get hurt. I have auditions this week."

"You won't get hurt. Not if you do it right."

He waited for a response but quite frankly, it was the last thing I wanted to do. The only reason I was still debating was because of the tone, tattooed body standing in front of me. Sweat trickled down his abs and seeped into his boxers. I knew he already caught me scanning his body so there was no point in hiding it.

"Just come on, I won't let you get hurt."

He walked to a mat as if I were just going to follow him...which I did. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own but I wasn't complaining.

"On one condition," I smiled, stopping just before I hit the mat.

"Go on," he sighed.

"You let me teach you ballet."

"No," he said flatly, leaning down to untie his shoes and take the weights off his ankles.

"Then I guess I'll be going." I turned, walking away only regretting it miniscule. God, why did he have to be so damn hot?

"Fine," I heard faintly behind me.

"What?"

"I said okay, I'll let you teach me. But I'm not wearing that leotard shit."

I skipped back happily and nodded. I'd never taught a man before. A few boys, sure, but not a man.

"Let's get started then."

"Take off your shoes," he slid his off along with his socks.

"Ew, no. These floors are disgusting."

"For the love of god, I just cleaned them, Clara."

It was the first time he said my name aloud and that was enough for me to slip them off with no hesitation. I stepped on the mat across from him and let my arms fall to my side. He smirked slightly then shook his head, pleased with himself.

"Boxing takes skill. You have to know your opponent. You have to know their weaknesses and their strong suits. You can't just go into a match without knowing these things."

His eyes trained on mine steadily, scanning my body occasionally. I switched from foot to foot, feeling a bit unnerved.

"But it's not enough to just know these things. You have to act on them because you too will have weaknesses. So you have to not only find a way to beat his, but to hide yours."

"Anyone can do that. It doesn't take a genius."

"Oh really?" Harry circled me, his eyes never leaving my body.

"Really," I whispered. My heart was beating fast. It felt like I was about to perform, the nerves were hitting me from every direction.

"Then tell me my weaknesses. What gets me?"

I had no idea. I didn't have one clue what his weaknesses were. Even when I watched the fight he was amazing. So I guessed.

"Your shoulder."

"Which one?"

"Left."

"Wrong," I huffed, balling my fists.

"Fine, then what's my weakness?"

He stopped in front of me once again, smiling to himself.

"Your ankles."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "I have the strongest ankles at the company. Good try."

"You're right, I'm sure they are. But here, they're your weakness."

"How so?" I raised my eyebrow quite amused.

"If I go to strike you, would you rather me go for your ankles or wrists? Because my guess is you need your ankles a bit more." I couldn't find words so he continued, "see, when you're boxing, I know you'd be thinking about your ankles. That's the last thing you'd want to hurt so you'd only be focusing on them. And when you're focusing so much on one thing, you forget about the rest."

I pursed my lips, knowing exactly how right he was. "But that's psychological. You would never know that just looking at me."

"I've been watching you for the past 20 minutes when you thought I was checking you out."

"I didn't think you were checking me out," I lied.

"You stand, hopping from foot to foot. You do it to keep them circulating. Sure, there may be some nerves but you need strength. Do you have my weakness yet?"

Every time he spoke he threw me off guard. Mainly because he was right. So, so right. But I couldn't let him win so I thought.

"Your left wrist." his smile dropped.

"And why do you say that?"

"Because when you fell off the elliptical you put all of your weight on your right hand. But first you tried to use your left. I saw you flinch."

He stared for a moment, not saying a word. I couldn't see any form of emotion behind his eyes and I thought for just a minute time had stopped.

"Good observation." he finally said. "Now, let's box."

++

It was 6 when I finally fell on my back, letting my arms fall to my sides. As much as I hated to admit it, I was having fun. No, I'd never want to join into boxing but learning how to punch and kick was an interesting way to spend my afternoon. Especially since all I knew was ballet.

Harry was true to his word and made sure I didn't hurt myself. I stuck mainly to using my hands and only did a few kicks. He somehow knew every muscle and bone and what I used it for during dance. I suppose his mother is Samantha and he must have grown up with some kind of ballet background.

"I'm starving," my hands landed on my stomach and I realized I hadn't eaten since noon.

"Do you wanna grab something to eat?" I looked up to Harry standing above me. He seemed hesitant but hopeful. I couldn't say no.

"Sure," I nodded, standing up slowly. My arms were sore and I knew they would be worse tomorrow but it was worth it.

Notes

sorry it took so long...exam week :/
please comment?