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I spend the next few nights at the hotel with Mabel, and each night we're both woken up by her night terrors. It kills me to know that there's nothing that I can do to make them go away, and though I still hold her every time she wakes up screaming, it just feels like it's not enough.

By the third night, she finally agrees to attend a self-defense class, claiming that she only wants to try to give herself some piece of mind and hopefully and good night's sleep. I can tell that the restlessness she's been experiencing has begun to take its toll physically, that it's starting to become a problem, so I'm quick to make the plans with Tyler. I figure that with Mabel's anxiety the last thing she'll want is to attend something big with lots of strangers, so Tyler and I decide to keep it close knit and small.

"Ready?" I call out from the bed. I'm sitting on the edge of the mattress and fiddling with my phone as I wait for Mabel who locked herself in the bathroom to get ready about a half an hour ago.

"Just give me like three more minutes," she says through the door. A crash echoes from inside, followed by a string of "curse words" that leave her lips.

"We're just going to the gym," I remind her, my knee bouncing anxiously. I place a firm hand on top of it to keep it still but it's no use.

Finally, she steps out. Her dark hair is pulled up into a high pony-tail, exposing the slender column of her neck, and she's dressed in black athletic leggings and one of my old cut-off t-shirts with a gray sports bra.

"Well?" she asks hesitantly, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip. "Is this okay? I don't really go to the gym that often..."

"You, and your ass, look great," I tell her with a wink.

That's one of the great things about leggings. Sure, there was an argument awhile back about whether or not they could be considered "real" pants, but in my opinion they're one of the best creations of man-kind. The things they do for the booty is right up there with the internet.

Mabel rolls her eyes at my comment, but a tiny smile still pulls at the corners of her mouth.

I get up from the bed, stretching my arms up high with a satisfied groan, and then reach for her hand.

"Thank you for setting this up so quickly," she murmurs, leaning her forehead against my chest.

Anything for the woman I love, I want to say, but I hold my tongue, and instead just hum my agreement.

When she looks up at me again, lacing her fingers together behind my back, I feel a twinge of sadness flood through me. She's beautiful, she always has been and I'm positive she always will be, but she looks exhausted. Her green eyes hold a little less life in them than they did a few weeks ago, and beneath them are light blue—almost bruise-like—shadows from lack of sleep. Even though I've been offering her food every time I eat, I can still tell that she's starting to lose some weight, and it makes my stomach lurch. There's still curves—something tells me she'll always have a delectable ass—but her hipbones have begun to pop out more and the same thing can be said about her ribs. It leaves me feeling like I'm failing as her boyfriend, that I'm just letting her wither away, even though I know that's not true. There's only so much I can do.

Snap out of it, I tell myself firmly. Quit acting like such a little bitch and get on with it.

I incline my head, pressing my lips to the soft skin of her forehead. "Come on, we don't want to be late."

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On the way to the gym Mabel takes charge of selecting music for the ride, but this time I'm not nervous when she plugs her phone into the stereo. I like her taste in music, and I know it compliments my own well. The soft chords of a rock song fill the cab of the truck and I bob my head along to the beat, grinning like a fool when Mabel catches me.

Tyler and Hazel meet us at the gym, which is crowded considering the late hour, but I chalk it up to people trying to start out their New Year's resolutions and figure they'll probably get tired soon and leave. Mabel jogs straight up to her friend and the two embrace, while Tyler and nod in acknowledgment.

"Sup?" He asks, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his basketball shorts. "How was break?"

I shrug indifferently. "Pretty good. You?"

"Same."

See? This is how conversations work. Meanwhile, Hazel and Mabel are still holding one another at arms length and jabbering about every breath they've taken since the last time they spoke.

"Look, ladies, we're kind of on a time crunch since I reserved the space," Tyler begins, eyeing Hazel specifically. "So unless you two are going to start making out, let's get this show on the road."

Both girls turn to Tyler, mouths agape. Hazel is the first to recover and launches herself at him, screaming something along the lines of "useless pig" and then proceeds to try and nail him in the balls with her knee.

Mabel's gaze swivels to me and I hold my hands up in defense.

"I didn't say anything," I tell her, biting back a laugh.

"You could have," she hisses, stalking up to me. "You could've told him to get his mind outta the gutter. That's your friend."

I shrug, and when she places her hands on my chest to shove me, I wrap my fingers around her wrists and give her a peck on the cheek. "It would be pretty hot..."

Fury sparks in her green eyes. "Alex—!"

I swoop down again, pressing my mouth to hers, and whatever insult she was planning dissipates into thin air.

"Come on, Mabel," Hazel mutters, tugging on Mabel's shirt.

I let her go and she shoots me the evil eye, but it's muted by the desire that flourishes just beneath the surface. Hazel heads for the stairs with Mabel in tow, the two of them looping their arms together.

"Think it'll ever happen?" Tyler jokes.

I cock my head to the side as we follow them, watching Mabel's perky ass as she ascends the steps. "I highly doubt it, but we should make a pact now that if it ever does, whoever witnesses has to take pictures. I don't wanna miss that."

"So you can beat your meat to my girlfriend?" He scoffs, elbowing me roughly in the ribs.

I shove him in retaliation. "No, you fuck-wit, so I can beat my meat to my girlfriend."

We're only about fifteen minutes in, but I already notice that Tyler really knows his shit when it comes to self-defense. He takes instructing pretty seriously, switching from teasing both Hazel and Mabel to a more thoughtful demeanor almost instantly. He uses Hazel as his partner to teach techniques—obviously—and then has Mabel and I re-enact them.

I'm not entirely comfortable with the ways he has me hold her, but the determined look Mabel gets as she watches the instructions has me feeling a little better at the thought of having to put my hands on her throat.

What kind of sick fucks actually do this shit? I wonder, grinding my teeth together.

Mabel watches me from beneath her dark lashes as I gingerly wrap my hands around her neck. It makes my blood run cold. This is only to teach her, and I already feel like ripping my own dick off.

"Alex, c'mon man, you have to hold her a little tighter than that," Tyler mutters, coming to stand next to us.

"Fuck off," I grumble irritably.

Mabel shakes her head and tightens my hold on her. "Listen to him," she says. "You won't hurt me, I promise."

Yeah fucking right. I swallow down the words that want to spring forth, and reluctantly tighten my grip so that my palms are flush against her skin.

"Alright, Mabes, now grab his thumbs how I showed you."

She does as instructed, plucking with hooked fingers until she's able to latch firmly onto my thumbs. But then she surprises me. She begins kicking at my shins and aiming her knee towards my groin, and I have to loosen my hold to try and avoid her attacks, which ends up giving her enough of an advantage and she breaks free.

A tiny bead of sweat rolls down from her hairline as she lets out a victorious huff. "I did it!"

Tyler gives her a fist bump, grinning down at her proudly. "You sure as shit did."

"That was actually kind of...fun," she says, looking back up to me.

The next move Tyler teaches has to do with escaping a "bear-hug" type of attack where someone grabs you from behind. We watch the demonstration where Hazel expertly goes deadweight in Tyler's grasp and begins thrashing until she's free. Just for good measure she stomps on his foot and sticks her tongue out at him, earning a laugh from Mabel and I.

When it's our turn, I wrap my arms around Mabel in a vice grip, and even go so far as to kiss her exposed neck.

"Alex," she whines with a giggle. "You're not supposed to do that."

"Couldn't help it," I reply, kissing her again.
Before I can get in another one she kicks her feet out from underneath her and drops as low as she can, causing my grip to tighten.

"This isn't working, Tyler," she mumbles. "I'm too light."

She's right. She's so light that I don't have much of a problem holding up her weight against my chest.

"You have to use your size to your advantage," Tyler explains gently. "Start squirming to try and break free."

Mabel wiggles in my grasp, testing herself, and I gulp. This isn't a good idea, not with the way her ass is smack up against my front.

Get yourself together, I chastise myself, squeezing my eyes shut briefly to picture puppies and kittens. They're cute. Boners aren't cute. Don't be that douche.

Mabel swings her hips furiously, bringing her legs back to kick my knees until I drop to the mats and let her go.

"I did it!" she exclaims, launching herself forward and wrapping her arms around my neck. "You're so much bigger than me but I did it!"

"And bruised my knees in the process," I grumble back.

Her green eyes widen in horror. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. Are you—?"

I cup my hand over her mouth, effectively cutting her off mid-sentence. "I'm fine."

Her gaze softens, and she relaxes against me, nuzzling under my chin. "Better watch out. I'm dangerous now."

I let out a loud laugh and shake my head. "We still have to teach you how to throw a punch."

"He's right," Tyler agrees. "Let's do that next."

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