Huntress

The next day when there was a knock on the door, I groaned.

Having just got back from work, I was exhausted and tired in the way you get only after hours at a time of brainless drudgery. I hadn’t yet bothered to change out of my uniform and was halfway through a sandwich I’d made ten seconds earlier.

To my surprise and relief, it wasn’t Alec.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Tris greeted me with a smile. He was still wearing his chef shirt.

“Hi,” I greeted him happily. He leant down for a kiss and I gave him one. Then he looked with a wry smile at the sandwich in my hand.

“Peanut butter again?”

I held it out of reach, sticking out my tongue. “I’ll thank you not to insult my staple sandwich spread.”

He held out a square container wrapped in a white paper bag. It rustled a little and I felt a little blush of affection spread out from my chest. “For me?”

“And me,” he qualified, taking the food out of the paper bag and opening the container. A delicious waft of... something came out and I went to grab forks.

Tris settled down at the bench and took his uniform shirt off. We then sat together, eating the pasta he brought in relative silence.

“So,” he started after scraping the bottom for the last of the sauce. “I was thinking we could go to movie or something tonight.”

This sounded alright except for the whole possibility of Alec coming over at some point. But I suppose if I wasn’t here...

“Ok,” I agreed, licking my fork clean. I saw him watching my mouth and took my time, slowly licking my fingers as well. “What’s on?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

The man had a point. “Fair enough. Just let me go and get changed.”

I got off the bench stool. “Need some help?” he asked, looking hopeful, and I shook my head with a smile.

“Nice try.”

Something about my room seemed odd as I went in to change. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it and so shrugged it off. After selecting jeans and a dark sparkly top from my wardrobe I put them on, took my hair out, fluffed it out and grabbed my handbag. Too easy.

We left the house ten minutes later and walked to his car, comfortable in the balmy spring air. The movies weren’t that far away but inner Sydney is like a rabbit warren – one-way streets and oddly shaped laneways galore – so it took us a bit longer than it should have.

I don’t even remember what movie we saw; some American action movie full of chiselled good guys and fiercely delivered epithets of victory. It all worked out happily in the end; that’s all I know. Tris and I were a little preoccupied with each other to pay attention to the plot.

We were getting stares and I probably should have been sheepish, but something about the darkness and the explosions made me a shrug and not care. The stares turned to glares as the movie finished and we walked out, hand in hand, faces probably flushed.

Tris didn’t see why he couldn’t stay the night.

“Come on, Di,” he wheedled. “Please. We don’t have to do anything...”

I knew for a fact my dad was going to be home in the morning – early – and didn’t relish the idea of him seeing Tris sneaking from my room again. We hadn’t slept together – not yet – but my dad didn’t know that. And he always suspects the worst.

“No,” I told him, smiling. He didn’t smile in return, just looked frustrated. “Dad’ll be home in the morning. Fancy an ‘if you hurt my daughter I’ll surgically replace your face with your ass, because I can’ talk?”

Tris reluctantly shook his head and we got back in his car. The streetlights shined in, their orange glow highlighting his facial features in sharp contrast to the shadowy car. Something in the illuminated plane of his jaw and rough stipple of a five-o’clock shadow made me bite my lip and lean forward to kiss him all over again. One person doesn’t have the right to be so damn gorgeous.

He seemed to share the thought (or return it) and things got a little heated again. Finally I broke away and said – a little breathlessly – “Ok, um... we should really go.”

Realising we couldn’t exactly do it here in the carpark, he nodded, again reluctantly, like he’d been seriously considering dragging me into the backseat and fogging up the windows.

We pulled out and drove home. For the sake of my own willpower I didn’t let him inside, knowing that once I did I’d never be able to kick him out. Instead I kissed him through the open car window, revelling in the clean feel and smell of skin and breath and shampoo.

“Bye,” I whispered, leant back out and, with a wave, disappeared down the front garden path. All I heard after that was the frustrated rev of a motor and tires crunching on gravel.

The house was locked and all the lights were off, something that felt lonelier than usual. I turned a couple on as I made my way through the house and changed into the long loose t shirt that is my pyjamas. After undoing my hair and brushing my teeth I got into bed, enjoying the feel of clean sheets.

Yawning, I flicked the light off and settled into the covers, exhaling comfortably. Sleep sounded really good about now. I was exhausted...

“So, did you have fun?”

With a shocked gasp I shot up from my bed and turned on the light. Alec stood leaning against my wardrobe, smirking.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” I asked, semi-hysterical with fright. “You scared the shit out of me!”

His smirk grew even more pronounced. “I was waiting for you to get back from your date,” he said calmly. “About time, too. How long were you making out in the carpark for?”

That should have made me blush but I was beyond that. “Have you been in here the whole time? What if my dad came home?”

“Di, Di, Di,” he said patronisingly. “I was standing here and you didn’t notice. In your own room. With the light on. Do you really think your dad would notice if you didn’t?”

He had a point but didn’t have to be such an asshole about it. “Fine. What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Alec asked exasperatedly. “You really have short term memory loss, don’t you?”

With a sinking feeling I realised he was talking about our fighting lessons. My fighting lessons. Here. Now. Instead of sleeping.

“Aw,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Do I have to?”

He looked at me, considering. “Well... I guess you’re right. I mean, if I was your attacker, I’d certainly wait until you were well-rested and fresh before picking a fight. To do otherwise would just be unfair.”

The sarcasm in his voice was so thick you could wrap it around a tree and lynch someone with it. Frustrated, I flung myself back onto my pillow.

“I hate you.”

“Not as much as you will in an hour,” he said, stepping forward to grab me by the arm and physically pull me out of my bed. I went limp and so hit the floor with a painful thud.

I pushed him out of the room with a groan. He let me shut it over but not close it completely so I could get changed out of my pyjamas and into running shorts and a tank top.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” I warned him as I followed him out to the living room. He moved our coffee table, TV and couches to the very far corners of the room, creating a bigger space than I’d believed possible. There wasn’t a mat or anything on the floor.

Alec shrugged and stood in the middle of the floor. “Alright then. Hit me.”

My limbs were tired, hair dishevelled, shorts dirty from my last run and feet sore, but I grit my teeth and balled a fist anyway. He looked completely unfazed by my set expression, which I knew didn’t bode well.

Shrugging, I moved closer and without hesitating slugged him as hard as I could in the face.

“Ow,” I exclaimed, unused to the crunch of my knuckles against cheek and jawbone. To my credit, Alec at least blinked.

Then he smiled. “Nice try.”

That was all I heard before he punched me back, full in the face. Something made a painful cracking noise and I was about lifted off my feet. A red haze swam in front of my eyes.

“Fuck!” I swore, spitting blood. “What the hell?”

“Lesson number one,” he declared. “You punch like a girl.”

At that I scowled and tried to hit him again. He easily blocked it with his forearm and tapped me lightly on the jaw again. The force made me stumble backward.

“Lesson number two,” he went on. “You need to block hits, or you’re going to get knocked out in two seconds.”

Then he pushed me in the chest, and again I stumbled, never really finding my balance. My hand hit the couch end as I tried to steady myself.

“Lesson number three: keep your ground, and your balance.”

The lessons were going in one ear and out the other and I was getting angry. “Fuck this, you’re just pushing me around.”

I tried to kick his legs out from under him – considering I was now on the floor – but all it did was hurt my foot. Damn it, I thought.

“Lesson four: know your opponents strengths and weaknesses.”

I do, I thought, extremely frustrated. Every attempt to get up I tried ended in him pushing me back down like it was nothing. My butt was getting sore and so was my ego.

“Fuck you, and your lessons,” I tried again hotly, getting up faster this time and swinging wildly at him, with no real force or direction behind my arm.

Alec stopped me by grabbing both of my arms near the elbow and holding them to my sides. He looked straight into my face and said, very slowly, “Lesson number five: don’t let your emotions get the better of you. Ever.”

With a final push he sent me back down to the ground again. This time the wind went out of me and I stayed there, gasping for air. When the pain in my lungs and stomach subsided I calmly lay there, breathing heavily.

“Any other words of wisdom?”

I heard, from behind closed eyelids, a snort. I held up my arm to him and felt a warm hand grasp it and pull. Once I was on my feet I took a big step backward.

“That’ll do for tonight. What was lesson one?”

Hazarding a guess, I said, “Punch better?”

He shrugged. “It’ll do. We’ll go through one after the other until you get it. Ok? So tonight we start with punching.”

Start with punching we did. Alec dragged a thick foam mat about the size of a doormat out from the hallway. He then handed me two long terry-towelling straps.

“Tie these like so,” he directed, showing me how to wrap them around my hands so that they wouldn’t get too bloody or bruised. When he was done that he held the mat up in front of him and directed me to hit it.

“We’ll start with a boxing-type style to get your strength up. Just hit the foam, hard as you can. One-two-three. Got it?”

I nodded wearily and tried to set my stance to something comfortable. This felt nothing like Rocky. Feebly, I began to punch, gaining strength and confidence as I continued. My back, shoulder and arm muscles all ached but I pushed through it, concentrating on hitting as hard as I could. Alec wasn’t moving much, but I didn’t expect him to.

I must have done a thousand hits, the same spot over and over again, before he finally nodded.

“Good,” he said, tone neutral. “Three more, then we’re done.”

Enthusiasm renewed by the smell of the end, I threw myself into the last three sets of punches. On the very last one I gathered all the strength I could muster and deliberately punched too high. There was something very satisfying in seeing Alec’s face move as my fist glanced off it hard.

“That’s for getting me out of bed,” I panted. He didn’t seem fazed, and just smiled.

“Well, you can go back now. We’ll keep doing this until you get it enough that we can move onto the next lesson.”

Wearily, I nodded, and started to unwrap my hands. They were already bruised and I wondered what people at work would think. I was sure my face was also beaten up a little.

“Here,” he said, getting out the knife I recognised from the other day and opening a cut on his finger. Before I could protest he smeared sticky blood all over my face and knuckles.

I grimaced. “That never gets less disgusting.”

“Go have a shower then,” he prodded, steering me toward the door. “I’ll pack up. See you soon.”

I didn’t protest, instead just shambling out into the hallway and down a door until I got to the bathroom. By the time I looked in the mirror most of the bruises had faded to a dull discolouration. My shower was warm, quick and relaxing, so that when I went to bed wrapped only in a towel I fell asleep almost instantly.

That night, I dreamed I was a queen.