Her chin was slightly lowered.
Her hands weren't high like a beginner's.
They were loose.
Ready.
Samuel's eyes narrowed.
He had seen that posture before.
Years ago.
In places where people didn't spar for entertainment.
Derek raised his gloves.
“Ready?”
Mara nodded.
Derek stepped forward.
He threw a light jab.
Mara moved her head an inch.
The punch missed.
Derek smiled.
“Nice.”
He threw another.
She stepped outside.
Again.
Another jab.
Again.
Nothing dramatic.
But she wasn't retreating.
She was moving just beyond his reach.
Derek increased his speed.
Jab.
Cross.
Low kick.
Mara checked the kick.
Derek stopped.
The room became quieter.
Mara lowered her leg.
“Continue,” she said.
Derek's smile disappeared.
He attacked again.
This time he threw a combination.
Left hook.
Right cross.
Low kick.
Mara slipped the hook, rolled beneath the cross, and moved away from the kick.
Not quickly.
Effortlessly.
Derek stared.
Colin stopped smiling.
Samuel folded his arms.
Mara raised her gloves.
“You're very fast.”
Derek heard the compliment as an insult.
“I'm just warming up.”
“I know.”
He charged.
And this time, Mara moved toward him.
The First Mistake
Derek had expected Mara to retreat.
Instead, she stepped into his attack.
Her left hand touched his shoulder.
Not a punch.
A frame.
Her right hand caught his wrist.
Derek tried to pull away.
Too late.
Mara pivoted.
For one second, Derek's balance disappeared.
He stumbled.
The room reacted with a collective gasp.
Mara released him immediately.
Derek recovered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“You tripped me.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I moved.”
A few people laughed nervously.
Derek's face reddened.
He attacked again.
This time he shot for a double-leg takedown.
It was one of his strongest weapons.
He lowered his level and drove forward.
Mara sprawled.
Her hips dropped against his shoulders.
Derek tried to continue.
She angled to the side.
Her right arm wrapped around his neck.
Derek rolled.
Mara followed.
In less than three seconds, Derek was on his back.
Mara had taken his back.
Her arm slid beneath his chin.
Derek immediately recognized the position.
Rear naked choke.
But it wasn't fully locked.
He could still escape.
He grabbed her wrist.
She released him.
Again.
Derek rolled away and stood.
The room was silent.
Mara stood as well.
“Good escape,” she said.
Derek stared at her.
“You let me go.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You were caught.”
“You could have finished.”
“I didn't want to.”
Derek looked toward Samuel.
“Coach.”
Samuel didn't answer immediately.
He was staring at Mara.
“Where did you learn?”
Mara hesitated.
“Different places.”
Derek scoffed.
“That's not an answer.”
“It wasn't meant to be.”
Somebody near the wall whispered:
“Who is she?”
Mara heard it.
She pretended not to.
Derek stepped forward.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I think you're pretending.”
Mara looked at him.
“Pretending what?”
“To be harmless.”
Her expression changed slightly.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something closer to disappointment.
“Derek.”
Samuel's voice was firm.
“Enough.”
Derek ignored him.
“No. I want to know.”
Mara took a slow breath.
“I came here to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Coach Reed.”
Samuel nodded.
“You already found me.”
Mara looked at him.
“I wanted to ask about joining the evening class.”
Samuel studied her.
“You don't need the beginner class.”
Mara didn't respond.
Derek laughed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The act.”
Mara sighed.
“I don't want an argument.”
Derek stepped closer.
“Then stop acting like you're better than me.”
Mara's eyes hardened for the first time.
“I never said I was.”
“Your face says it.”
“No,” she said quietly.
“My face says I'm tired.”
The room went silent.
Derek stared at her.
Then he smiled.
“Fine.”
He raised his gloves.
“One more round.”
Mara looked toward Samuel.
Samuel closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he said:
“Two minutes. Controlled.”
Derek nodded.
Mara raised her gloves.
And this time, she wasn't smiling.
The Woman Who Wouldn't Fight Back
The second round started differently.
Derek didn't play anymore.
He attacked.
A hard jab.
Mara blocked.
A right hand.
She slipped.
A body kick.
She stepped away.
Derek pressed forward.
Mara gave ground.
For several seconds, it looked as though Derek had found his rhythm.
He landed a glancing kick against her thigh.
The crowd reacted.
Derek smiled.
“See?”
Mara touched the spot.
“Good kick.”
He attacked again.
She blocked.
Another kick.
She checked.
Derek tried a spinning back kick.
Mara moved aside.
The kick missed completely.
Derek turned.
Mara was already behind him.
She touched his back with her glove.
“If this were real,” she said, “you'd be down.”
Derek spun around.
“Don't talk.”
“Then stop giving me reasons to.”
Several students looked at one another.
Derek charged.
Mara waited.
At the final instant, she stepped sideways.
Derek passed her.
She caught his arm.
A wrist lock.
Derek dropped his weight.
Mara released him.
He turned and threw a hook.
Mara ducked.
Her hand touched his ribs.
A light body shot.
Derek stopped.
It had barely landed.
Yet his expression changed.
Because it had been perfectly placed.
Mara could have hit harder.
Much harder.
She hadn't.
Derek attacked again.
Mara moved.
Again.
Again.
Every time he tried to trap her, she escaped.
Every time he created an opening, she saw it.
It was becoming embarrassing.
Not because she was dominating him.