Chapter 20
Luke
Glancing up from his sandwich midway through his lunch break, Oliver said, “They mentioned something at group yesterday.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“They stated the center and some of the other shelters around here offer self-defense classes for survivors.”
“Yeah? Do you think you might want to do that?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. If I’m ever in . . . if anything ever happens again, I don’t want to be the pushover who just takes it. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a class full of strangers. With your job, you’ve had that kind of training, right?”
“Yes, I’m certified in defensive tactics, situational awareness, all of it.”
“Then, would you be the one to teach me? I’d feel safest learning from you.”
The idea of running self-defense drills together was not exactly a chill prospect. Ever since the camping trip last weekend, Oliver had been jumpier around me. One harmless comment about my tattoo and bam, the Vincent effect stole the show.
The last thing I wanted was to be the reason he slipped back into that darkness. But I also knew the whole point of this was taking his power back, not hiding from it. And if he trusted me enough to help him do that, then I didn’t want crush him by saying no.
“Yeah, for sure, I’d love to be the one to teach you. We can start today if you’d like? I can clear the living room for us while you finish up your work day.”
“Yeah, I’d love to get started! Thank you. I’ve nearly finished everything that needs to be done today, so I can head out early. I’ll be done within the next few hours.”
By the time Oliver came down from his office loft, I’d transformed the living room into a makeshift training space.
I’d pushed the coffee table to the wall, freeing up the middle of the floor.
I’d unrolled thick yoga mats side by side, soft enough to cushion landings and dense enough to mute impact for the sake of the neighbors in the condos below.
Oliver paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the cleared space. “Whoa. You really went for it.”
“Figured if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” I gave the mat nearest him a pat. “Welcome to Walker’s School of Tactical Awesomeness.”
Oliver walked over to where I indicated.
“Step one, we set ground rules.”
“Okay.”
“Number one, you’re in charge. We’ll use the color traffic-light system to signal status. Green all is good in the neighborhood, yellow if you’re unsure or need a slower pace, red we stop immediately. You can switch colors at any point. No explanations required. Sound good?”
“Yep, I’m good with that.”
“Number two, I don’t grab you out of nowhere. I’ll explain everything before I do it so nothing comes at you that you aren’t prepared for.”
“Shame, here I was counting on jump scares.”
“We can pop on a horror movie later if jump scares are what you’re after. For now, you’re gonna have to settle for my riveting commentary. No leaping out of our skin for this exercise,” I said.
“I suppose that’s reasonable.”
“Great, let’s start with a common frontal attack where I come at you and grab your arm.” I extended my hand, ensuring he saw every inch of my movement before it happened. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, with enough pressure to simulate a real grip. “How are you going to escape my hold?”
In an attempt to free himself, he gave a few sharp tugs, his muscles engaging with effort. I held firm. He tried again, with more force this time, swinging my arm to try and break free from my grip, brows knitting together in a frown of concentration.
When it didn’t work, he glanced up at me. “I thought I was supposed to pull away.”
“It makes sense.” I released his wrist and took a step back. “Seems like the right thing, doesn’t it? Your brain screams ‘get away,’ so your body follows. But when someone’s bigger and banking on your panic to keep you predictable? That instinct won’t get you far.”
“So basically, my instincts are trash. Good to know. Tell me, master Walker, do you start all your classes insulting your pupils or am I just special?”
“You’re definitely special, though there were no insults here.
Just facts. That’s okay. It’s not as intuitive as you’d think.
For a species gifted with ‘fight or flight,’ you’d think we’d come pre-installed with some kind of combat tutorial.
Maybe a pop-up window. You’ve selected FIGHT.
Please enjoy these basic instructions for not immediately dying.
But nope. Vibes and panic instinct are what our lizard brains give us. ”
“So, if panic doesn’t work, and brute force doesn’t work, what’s left? Polite negotiation? ‘Excuse me, sir, could you please not assault me today?’”
“Ha! Close, but no. If someone grabs you like this . . .” I reached out and took his wrist. “Your first move might be to yank away, but what you’re actually gonna do is step toward them.”
He gave me a look. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to step into the threat?
Sure. Because that sounds safe and sane.
I thought you said we were saving the horror movies for later?
I mean, that’s some scary movie logic right there.
‘Oh no, the killer’s in the basement, better go investigate all alone. ’”
“I know it sounds counterintuitive, but it’ll make sense in a sec. Stepping in gets you leverage to disengage from the contact. Here, I’ll walk you through it.”
He folded his arms muttering under his breath, “Step into a brick wall and trust the process. Next you’ll tell me to lick an electrical socket for power.”
“You know, despite my name, you sound suspiciously like Luke in episode five on Dagobah. I’m about to Yoda your skepticism into silence. You want to tell me you can’t do it. Bah! I’ll prove to you you can. Humor me. Step in.”
Oliver sighed like a man about to face the gallows but did as instructed.
“Now, pull my arm in toward you—yeah, just like that—and put your other hand over my knuckles. Now swing my arm while doing that and wrap your hand around my wrist.
I adjusted my stance to show the effect, bowing slightly under the torque of his grip. “See how my arm’s twisted? My balance is shot, my center’s compromised. From here, all you need to do is push down at the joint. The pressure makes me drop.”
“I’m starting to question your so-called credentials. Taking a man of your size down with a single wrist push sounds fake.”
“Mm, matters little, size does,” I said going full Yoda on him. My impression was spot on, if I did say so myself. “Come on, try it.”
He applied pressure, and I went down onto one knee with a soft grunt.
Oliver’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! That actually worked.”
“Told you.”
“Are you sure that wasn’t a fluke?”
“I promise, no flukes here, just physics. But for your peace of mind and to build muscle memory we’ll run it again. The more you repeat it, the more the movements will become automatic so your body remembers what to do when your brain might not in a high-stress moment.”
“I’m well aware of the benefits of muscle memory and repetition.
My ass has plenty of experience with repeated motion and how muscle memory can make things a lot smoother,” he quipped, but the confidence that launched the joke burned out midair, leaving him standing there, face going through ever shade of pink.
The way Oliver tossed out innuendo like a pro and then short-circuited over his own words two seconds later might be in my top five favorite things about him.
It was such a sweet contradiction, like his boldness always sprinted out ahead while the rest of him lagged behind, red-faced, trying to catch up.
I wondered if his skin felt as warm as it looked, if I could trace that pink down, make it deepen. I balled my hands into fists before I could find out.
“Muscle memory is important in a variety of scenarios for sure. What that tells me is since your ass has mastered the concept, the rest of your body will catch on just fine.”
He chuckled, though the color in his cheeks lingered.
After a few more smooth and clean run-throughs, I nodded. “Alright, great. Now that you’re comfortable with that, let’s move on. Not all attackers will approach the same way, you gotta be ready from all sides.”
Oliver smirked. “We’re leveling up? Fantastic. Love that for me. Tell me, Coach, what’s up next on today’s thrilling curriculum?”
“Ah, glad you asked. Because we’re moving on to another classic scenario, the snatch and grab from behind. If that happens, what do you think you’re going to do?”
“Let’s see. I’ve come to learn the error of my ways and will now exercise perfect instinct.
First, I’m going to pirouette so I’m facing them,” he said while doing a fancy turn to face me.
“Second, get my hands around their neck.” He slid his arms up and draped them over my shoulders, then linked his fingers behind my neck.
“And third, I pull their face down to mine so we can stare into each other’s eyes until the attacker regrets every life choice that led them to this moment.
” Without any resistance on my part, I let him bring my face down toward his.
The laugh I meant to give was forgotten when our eyes locked.
My own lizard brain decided yeah, pull him closer.
With that, I wrapped my arm around his back and hauled him in.
The puff of his surprise brushed my lips.
My tongue swiped at the tingly sensation it left behind.
The whole room felt smaller, or maybe I just got too big for it, full of confusion and this brand-new thing that had my limbs and body acting outside my control.
“Did I get it right?” Oliver whispered.
Huh, he had a sweet, faint, tiny mole that sat high on his left cheekbone. I found it stupidly cute. Suited him. This tiny speck of charm stamped right onto his skin. How the hell had my eyeballs failed to pick up on it all this time?
“Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“My tactic? Is it right?”