Free Limerence II by Claire C Riley

things better. “I said fine,” he says, and begins to walk away. “This is my mess. I will sort it out.”
    “Don’t be like that,” I plead, feeling her looking on and watching with glee at my discomfort.
    Evan turns to me, his face as hard as stone. “I will arrange for a new trainer for you, Mia.” He turns and begins to walk away, and for a second I’m frozen to the spot, not sure if I heard him correctly, and then trying to make a rapid decision on if that’s what would be for the best. But I know without a doubt that I need him in some way—in any way, a part of my life—and I chase after him.
    “Evan, wait.” I grab his muscular arm and he turns, though only with my prompting; but he refuses to look at me. “I don’t want anyone else to train me,” I say simply.
    “I do not want to make things more difficult for you. I am here to train you, to teach you. That is all this can ever be.” He says the words like they pain him. “You are not mine, Mia.” He looks down at me, his jaw grinding.
    “I am not anyone’s, no one owns me,” I snipe.
    He looks disgusted. “That is where you are wrong, Mia. Why do I have to keep reminding you of this?” He shakes his head.
    “Okay, okay, fine, I get it, I have no freewill anymore, I am not my own, blah blah, whatever.” My hand still grips his bicep, his skin feeling hot underneath my palm—which I know is impossible. Evan scowls and turns away, and I try a new tack: “Look, just don’t go, okay? Teach me something new. I don’t want to fight today,” I plead, not wanting today to end on bad terms again—not wanting him to leave and get me a new trainer because neither of us can control this thing that is growing between us, because neither of us wants to control it. Because we both want to let it flourish and grow and see what happens, but instead we have to stick to stupid silly rules that are possibly going to drive me mad—or at the very least destroy my libido.
    “It is not fighting, Mia. It is much more than that. This that I teach you is a powerful skill to protect yourself with, to—”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I cut him off. “You’re turning me into the karate kid. You’ve given me this speech before. How about you teach me, Evan? I beg you. I am yours.” I pause, and when he looks at me with a cocked eyebrow I add on: “I am yours to teach.” I can’t help a cheeky smile rising on my face when I see a flush of bright colour added to his typical dark grey aura, showing me that my words affected him.
    I feel myself getting flustered and force myself to calm down, to show him my self-restraint and that we can still train together and spend time together. I can see that he’s coming around to the idea and I push harder, clutching his arm in my grasp tighter, not wanting to relinquish the touch between us. “Teach me something new, show me something different, Evan. Or don’t, but let’s spend the time together. As friends,” I say firmly to ease his apparent discomfort at spending time alone with me.
    He seems thoughtful as he looks away from my pleading face, but I see his colours dancing freely around him and I know that I have him at least considering my proposal. A minute ticks by, and as I am about to prompt him to say something, he speaks.
    “I will show you something, Mia, something secret.” He looks back at me, his face still serious, but at least his jaw has stopped grinding in frustration.
    I smile. “Okay.” I’m happy that the discussion has changed from him not being my trainer anymore and wondering when exactly I turned into such a pathetic woman, hanging on this man’s every word. I have become my own worst nightmare. Typical cliché here I come.
    “This thing that I show you, you can never tell anyone, never show anyone else. This will be our secret,” he says gravely.
    I nod, feeling the stirrings of butterflies in my stomach that he’s showing me something that no one else has seen—a side to him that is