Free Counterpart (Succubi & Incubi Assn.) by K.J. Hunter-Brown Page B

in my hands, knowing he could use one. I
walked through the automated doors and smiled at the receptionist.
    “Hey Maya,” she said.
    “Hey Sophia, is Tristan in class?” I placed one of the smoothies on
the counter and pushed my glasses up to my head, getting a better view of the
gorgeous blonde.
    Sophia was always someone who knew how to brighten your day up. We
attended the same college, but never had classes together. She wanted to be
something in the physical department, while I didn't really care where I ended
up. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled up into its usual high ponytail but her
brown eyes—which usually crinkled on the sides at the sight of someone walking
through—showed no sign of happiness.
    Something was wrong.
    “He's here... but so is Tori.”
    My forehead just wanted to drop on the counter. Talk about a major
mood killer. “Perfect,” I mumbled, mentally kicking myself for wanting to come
in.
    “I know, right?” She smiled sadly, understanding where I was coming
from. “And the whole time, she's been complaining about the heat, and how
stuffy it is inside. I don't even know why she's here if she's going to
complain.”
    Another reason why I liked Sophia, she understood what most people
couldn't see.
    Tori was a bitch.
    “Thanks for the warning. This won't be a long visit.” I may have
been eager to see Tristan before, but now, I was contemplating if I wanted to
take my time to get there or not.
    I grabbed the smoothie off the counter and lazily headed inside the
gym. Tristan trained younger children in Mixed Martial Arts. Some had joined
the club to learn from the best, while others were here because their parents
wanted them to be able to defend themselves. Either way, Tristan was one of the
best trainers there was. If no one could see that, then they were blind.
    When I reached the training room—which was on the opposite side of
the building from the reception— my eyes instantly spotted Tristan walking
along the outside of a group of about twenty kids.
    “Alright guys, get a pair of gloves and pair up. We'll work on the
punching bags.”
    I walked inside and took a seat on a bench by the wall. Children no
older than 16 scattered around getting gloves from the shelves—which happened
to be opposite me—right where Tori just happened to sit. I didn’t know if she
knew I was here. Her phone had her attention and her fingers danced across the
screen at an impossible speed.
    She was probably looking up the next screening to ' Let's make
PG-13 love ', in theaters near you.
    I let out a short laugh at my own thoughts. I could be quite the
hilarious person to myself. And no one else was going to laugh at my lame
one-liners except for me—oh, and the demon, but she doesn’t really count.
    I watched Tristan as he put his class in their usual routine. I had
been here a few times, watching what he did. But not even I could avoid the
fact that I could never get tired seeing the ambition some kids have when they
walked in here. They all admired Tristan. You could see it in the way they
looked at him when he was explaining a new technique.
    Tristan held his hands up in front of him while he talked to one of
the kids.
    “You want to be able to get the right height, and when you punch,
you want to do it like this.” He showed the boy a right hook to the bag and the
kid nodded, determination in his eyes.
    I watched Tristan as he walked from child to child, giving them each
personal advice on what they could do to improve.
    If there was one thing I could admire about Tristan, it was his
confidence in his students. Not once did he ever let someone give up or quit.
Not even me.
    Then there was the obvious thing you could admire—the way he looked
in long shorts and a gray tank. His muscles flexed with each step he took,
every time his fist clenched so did his chest.
    It was like looking at a God... a God who had a girlfriend that was
currently giving me the evils.
    I needed to ignore that she