Control Yourself

For the next few days, in between classes, private lessons, and after the studio was closed, Shae was a regular at almost every furniture warehouse in Las Vegas. Since she was completely furnishing the apartment, she decided to stick with the sole basics – a bed, a dresser, a desk, a couch, a kitchen table, as well as some chairs. Once that was delivered and set up, Shae then began hunting for accessories, small appliances – stuff that made the apartment her home.

By the time she was finished decorating and completely moved in, Shae was pleased with her work. Even though she had kept the walls white – for now – the apartment still felt cozy and more customized to her taste. She used the spare bedroom as an at home studio; complete with a rack of rolled up mats, a few hanging ivy plants, as well as a burning essence holder on the sill of the large window.

The only problem with the apartment now was the empty fridge. After work, Shae decided, she’d head to the grocery store and splurge on groceries.

In the mean while, however, Shae showered quickly, blow dried her hair, and tossed it up into a loose, but high ponytail. After a body moisturize, Shae pulled on a pair of tight, black yoga capris, as well as a coral pink, slender-strapped v-neck tank. She slipped into her black, yoga flats and grabbed her gym bag and tote bag, slinging them onto her shoulder yet again. Shae bounded down the hallway to the elevator, pressing the downwards pointing arrow, waiting for the elevator to open.

When the doors finally slid open, Shae was somehow not surprised to see him standing in the doorway. She sighed, entering with her head lowered, adjusting the straps of her bags on her shoulder. He too was hauling a large, black gym bag around – obviously for training. The guy wore a pair of black tear-aways as well as a charcoal grey hoodie with ‘Warrior Training Center’ embroidered over the right breast. Shae tried not to make eye contact.

“Early class?” The guy finally asked. Shae nodded.

“What about you?” She asked, pointing to his gym bag. “Back to training?”

The guy nodded, giving his bag a good slap.

“Not until nine though – I have a class to teach, myself,” He said. Shae nodded.

“What are you doing up at seven then?” She couldn’t help but ask. The guy shrugged.

“I’ll probably hit the gym until then,” He said, casting a glance at her. “Go spar.”

Shae nodded, sucking back her annoyance with the fact that he was a fighter, probably obsessively dedicated to being the best and perfecting his techniques. She sighed, brushing out the wrinkles in her tank top. She didn’t say much after that.

They left the elevator, both heading for the door. He held the door open for Shae as she struggled with her bags, never taking another look back as she headed for her car. Shae stuffed her bags into the back seat, climbing into the driver’s seat, starting her car and pulling out of the driveway, heading for the studio. She took little notice of the black pick-up truck that was following slightly behind her, from the apartment to the studio.

Shae slipped out of the car, heaving her bags out of the back seat, and locked her Prius behind her, entering the studio, being greeted by Gretchen. She trotted up the stairs into the studio and started preparing; taking the mats out of storage, sweeping the hardwood floor, cleaning out the cubbies. She barely noticed someone leaning in the entrance until they cleared their throat. She jerked.

Of course he would be standing there. Shae sighed, tossing the disinfectant wipe she had been using into the small trash can.

“You lost?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest, heading over to him. The guy smirked.

“I hope not,” He said. “I came for an uplifting yoga session…”

Shae grunted.

“You can’t be serious…” She mumbled. The guy chuckled.

“Of course I’m serious,” He said. “Why would I come if I weren’t serious?”

“I don’t know,” Shae shrugged. “To harass me?”

The guy just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Y’know, not everything revolves around you…” He said, smiling lightly. Shae was about to retort when the sounds of a few students came echoing up the stairwell into the studio. She pursed her lips together and headed over to the shelf of mats. She grabbed a turquoise one and returned to the guy, shoving it at him.

“Here,” She muttered.

“Why, thank you, ma’am,” He smiled, glancing over his shoulder at the two, middle-aged women who had entered the studio. Shae rolled her eyes. The studio continued filling up, a few girls flirtatiously eying the guy, a few whispering excitedly as they passed. Shae bit her tongue, grabbing her rolled up mat from her gym bag, laying it out at the front of the class before the long wall of mirrors. Everyone else seemed to mimic her, rolling out their mats, the chattering fading away. Shae took in a deep breath, ignoring the burning stares she was receiving from the only male in the class.

*

Shae tiredly pushed a grocery cart through the produce section, her cart practically full of fresh vegetables and fruits alone. She couldn’t get over that guy actually following her to her studio, joining her class. She bagged up a few pears, sighing.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed an all-too familiar frame heading towards her, carrying a basket of breads and meat. Shae groaned, dropping the bag of pears into her cart, pushing onward, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.

Of course, he did.

“You know what I find funny?” The guy addressed her, his dark eyes twinkling as they scanned Shae’s grocery cart. She sighed, shaking her head.

“No, I don’t,” She mumbled.

“You don’t like me,” He smirked. “Yet, you don’t even know my name.”

Shae shrugged, pretending to be more interested in the tomatoes she was now examining than him.

“Is it necessary to have to know someone’s name before deciding on not liking them?” She retorted, glancing up at him quickly as she bagged the tomatoes, plopping them into her cart.

The guy followed her through the aisles of produce.

“Good point,” He said. “But, I mean, then it would further legitimize your hate for me…”

Shae rolled her eyes.

“I don’t hate you…” She muttered.

“You just don’t like me?” The guy clarified. Shae sighed, shrugging.

“I don’t like what you do,” She told him, leaving the produce aisle, heading for the bread and buns.

“What do I do?” He persisted. Shae groaned.

“Besides coincidentally showing up wherever I happen to be,” She retorted. “I don’t like fighters.”

The guy snorted.

“But, you dated a fighter…” He reminded her. Shae sighed.

“Hence the reason I don’t like them,” She said, examining a few loaves of rye bread. “All they care about is themselves, and their status, and their stupid techniques…”

The guy seemed to suddenly back off.

“Not all fighters are like that,” He told her. “Just some who think fighting is everything.”
Shae shrugged.

“Well, after being second-best next to a damn cage for two years, I think I’m entitled to hold my pre-conceived notions close,” She said, cocking an eyebrow at the guy. Shae smirked. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re different?”

The guy grinned.

“I am dedicated to my line of work,” He said. “I’ve worked hard to earn my status and get where I am. But, I think I’m capable of holding together a successful relationship…”

Shae rolled her eyes.

“You’ll make a girl real proud someday, I’m sure,” She muttered.

“Hopefully one as charming as you,” He teased, following along beside her through the grocery store. Shae snickered, rolling her eyes.