Chapter 32
Elena This was a bad idea. He’s trying to instruct me on how to properly punch a boxing bag hanging off the side of the gymnasium that reeks of male sweat and dried blood. My eyes take in the man’s masculine full arms as they contract with each impact against the poor old leather with strips of silver duct tape. He was here earlier than me and must have done some workouts because sweat still glistens down each contoured inked muscle one drip at a time and I’m about to lose it. “See where my thumb is?” The man asks, not realizing that I am one hundred percent not learning his form but rather drinking him in like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot Georgia afternoon. “Uh huh,” is all I utter acting cool under the pressure of my darn, late teenage - young adult hormones. He shows me his
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