SONG RECOMMENDATION: In The Name Of Love- By Martin Garrix
That evening, Stella and Mallory sat side by side on the parlor chairs, their faces coated in a cool, minty face mask that Gigi had lovingly applied. The air was filled with the scent of lavender, and the atmosphere was warm and cozy as the evening sun streamed through the windows.
"So," Gigi said, her tone playful but curious, "the principal didn't punish you two for your little stunt with Marcus?"
Stella grinned under the mask, stealing a glance at Mallory, who looked less than thrilled to be there. "Nope. She loves Mal," Stella teased, her voice light. "I swear, Mal could get away with anything at that university."
Gigi chuckled, clearly amused. "Well, it sounds like you girls had quite the day. But don't think I'm letting this slide—if that boy causes more trouble, I'll have a word with Agatha myself."
"Can I take this off now?" Mallory interrupted, her hand inching toward the face mask as if it were a burden she couldn't bear for another second.
Gigi, who saw this, swatted Mallory's hand away before it could reach her face. "What part of 'fifteen minutes' did you not understand, young lady?" she scolded gently, her voice both stern and affectionate.
Mallory groaned, clearly impatient, and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Her eyes fluttered closed as if accepting her fate for the next few minutes.
With Mallory silenced, Gigi and Stella resumed their conversation, their voices soft as they shared little stories about their day. Laughter bubbled up now and then, filling the room with warmth, while Mallory remained quiet beside them, clearly counting down the minutes until she could finally peel off the mask and escape Gigi's pampering session.
The next few days brought a much-needed peace to Stella's life. She decided it was time to take control of her own self-defense, so she made her way to the Elite Self-Defense Academy, a local boxing center that came highly recommended. As she walked through the doors, the scent of sweat filled the air.
Upon entering, she was greeted by the head coach, Ethan, a man in his forties with a warm smile and an inviting demeanor. He exuded a sense of authority that put Stella at ease.
"Hi, I'm Ethan. What do you want to sign up for—self-defense, boxing, gym, workouts?" he asked, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.
"Hi, I'm Stella. I'd like to sign up for self-defense," she replied, returning his smile.
"Great choice Stella! I'll explain the fee plan in my office, but would you like to look around first?" he suggested, already leading her deeper into the academy.
Stella nodded, excited to see what the facility had to offer. They first entered the self-defense center, where the atmosphere buzzed with activity and determination. It was a space designed for empowerment, with mats covering the floor and students practicing various techniques. Next, they moved to the gym, filled with weights and cardio machines, but it was the final stop that made her heart race.
As they stepped into the boxing center, the dim lights cast a shadow over the room, creating an almost cinematic atmosphere. And then she saw him— Simon Winchester stood in front of the heavy punching bag, his body a perfect blend of strength and agility. The baggy black shorts he wore hung low on his hips, allowing freedom of movement while emphasizing his toned physique. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, highlighting the contours of his powerful muscles—broad shoulders, defined biceps, and a chiseled chest that seemed to expand with each deep breath.
Every punch he threw was executed with remarkable speed, his fists flying toward the bag with precision and force. The fluidity of his movements showcased not only his strength but also his agility; he danced around the bag, pivoting on his feet with an ease that spoke of countless hours spent honing his craft.
As he struck, the force of each punch reverberated through the room, the bag swinging back with a heavy thud before he quickly followed up with another blow, the rhythm of his strikes creating a mesmerizing dance of power and finesse. The tattoos on his left arm seemed to come alive with his movements, their dark ink contrasting sharply against his sun-kissed skin, adding an edge to his already fierce presence.
In that moment, he was a primal force—focused, intense, and completely in his element, exuding an aura that was both intimidating and captivating.
"Simon," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she took in the sight of him.
"Yeah, he comes here every day," Ethan said casually, glancing between Stella and Simon. "Do you know each other?"
"No," she replied, feeling a strange mix of excitement and fear.
But just then, Simon turned his head slightly, as if he had sensed her presence. "But I do," he said, smirking slightly, his voice deep and confident. Stella's heart raced. How long had he been coming here? Did he know she was around?
As she stood there, torn between wanting to speak to him and feeling the weight of her embarrassment, Stella felt a sudden surge of determination. This was her moment to step out of her comfort zone and embrace her desire to grow stronger, both physically and emotionally. She was here to learn self-defense, to stand up for herself—no matter who else was in the room.
"Okay, focus," she muttered under her breath, pushing aside the thoughts of Simon. With a quick glance in his direction, she turned to Ethan. "How about we discuss the fee plan? I plan on joining."
Ethan, who had been watching her with an encouraging smile, nodded. "Absolutely! Follow me to the office." They walked through the gym, and Stella couldn't help but notice the energy around her—the sounds of punches hitting bags, the grunts of exertion, and the faint smell of sweat mixed with the clean scent of disinfectant. It felt revitalizing.
Once inside the office, they settled at a small desk cluttered with papers, training gear, and a motivational poster that read, "Strength is not just about muscles; it's about the will to fight."
"So, let's talk about fees," Ethan began, his tone professional yet friendly. "It's $150 for a month. That includes access to all our facilities and classes, as well as personal training sessions if you'd like."
Stella nodded, mentally calculating her budget. "That sounds good. Can I start next week? The first of the month works best for me."
"Of course!" Ethan replied, reaching for a pen. "I'll just need you to sign here." He pointed to a line on the contract.
As she scribbled her signature, she couldn't help but glance back at the boxing area. Simon was still there, his body a blur of movement as he delivered powerful punches to the bag. Each strike was deliberate and controlled, showcasing both his strength and speed. The tattoos on his left arm flexed with each blow, giving him an air of raw power that left her momentarily speechless.
"Do you know him?" Ethan's voice brought her back to the present.
"Who, Simon?" Stella replied, trying to sound casual, though her heart raced at the thought of him. "Not really. Just...we've crossed paths a couple of times."
Ethan chuckled. "He's a regular here. Good guy, but a bit of a lone wolf. You'll probably run into him more often now that you're signing up."
"Great," Stella murmured, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. "I mean, it's fine. I'm just here to focus on myself."
"Smart choice," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. "It's all about building confidence. You'll surprise yourself with what you can do."
With a newfound sense of purpose, Stella finished signing the contract. "Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate it. I'm really looking forward to starting."
"Just let me know when you're ready, and we'll get you set up for your first class," he replied, his smile warm. "And remember, it's all about taking that first step."
After saying goodbye to Ethan, Stella stepped out of the office, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. She had taken a significant step toward her goals, and that was what mattered.
As Stella stepped outside the Elite Self-Defense Academy, a sense of exhilaration washed over her, mixing with the lingering anxiety about her decision to train. She had made a choice to take control of her life, to forge her own path of strength and self-reliance. Just as she was about to fully embrace her newfound determination, the atmosphere shifted as Simon entered the room behind her.
Simon strode in with an undeniable presence, the dim light casting shadows across his sharply defined features. He made his way to Ethan's desk, snatching the contract paper with a confidence that seemed to drain the air from the room. His eyes glinted with mischief as he skimmed the document.
"Personal training, huh?" Simon's voice dripped with amusement as he handed the paper back to Ethan, his tone suggesting a deeper, darker interest.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, sensing something sinister behind Simon's playful demeanor. "So, who are you looking at for her personal trainer?" asked Simon
"We have Martin, Oliver, Noah, Liam, and me," Ethan replied, a hint of skepticism creeping into his voice.
Simon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and his smirk transformed into something more predatory. "For a customer to feel comfortable, they have to know their trainer," he said, his gaze steady, as if daring Ethan to disagree.
Ethan chuckled nervously, but there was a flicker of caution in his eyes. "And how comfortable are you? I hear you're free at 9 PM," he retorted, his voice laced with uncertainty. Ethan suddenly stopped and looked at Simon in disbelief.
"Wait, are you really suggesting yourself as her personal trainer?" Ethan asked, half-joking but already uneasy about the implication.
"I guess that's what I said a few minutes ago, she knows me" Simon replied, shrugging with an air of indifference. But his eyes held a darkness that made Ethan shiver.
Ethan studied Simon for a moment, a thought bubbling to the surface. "Are you in love with her or something? You seem... interested."
"Me? In love?" Simon laughed, the sound devoid of warmth. "I'm incapable of that." His voice was low and chilling, as if he were reciting a twisted mantra. "She's just an interesting thing to play with," he added, the edge of his words slicing through the air.
"Fine, you can teach her, but I won't pay you," Ethan said reluctantly, his instincts flaring despite the darkness swirling around Simon.
"Fine by me," Simon replied with a wicked grin, a glint of something predatory dancing in his eyes. He turned away, the air around him crackling with a tense energy, as he pulled on his shirt, the fabric straining over his powerful physique. With a final glance at Ethan, he left the center, the door slamming shut behind him.
Outside, Simon lit a cigarette, the flame illuminating his surroundings. He took a drag, inhaling deeply, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs as he leaned against the cold wall. The world blurred around him, his mind racing with thoughts of Stella—her determination, the fire in her eyes, the way she stood her ground against the weight of her insecurities.
"Just an interesting thing to play," he muttered to himself, exhaling a thick plume of smoke into the night air. The darkness enveloped him, swirling around like a shroud. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the flicker of intrigue that stirred within him. The last thing he wanted was to complicate his already twisted life with feelings he had long since buried.
Yet, a darker part of him relished the challenge. There was something intoxicating about her vulnerability, a raw strength waiting to be unleashed. He smirked, a wicked thought crossing his mind. "I guess I'll just have to see how this plays out," he mused, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes as he contemplated the power dynamics at play.
As he flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground, he watched it smolder, much like the growing fire of obsession within him. The thrill of the hunt ignited something deep within, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was stepping into a dangerous game—one where the lines between strength and vulnerability, control and chaos, would blur in ways he could never predict.