*Ember*
Jeremy is looking at me like I’m a snack, and not in the way I’m used to men looking at me, either. With saliva hanging off the tip of his tongue, he watches my every move, feeling me out, looking for the best time to strike.
I try to stay light on my feet, watching him as well. He’s not likely to make an impulsive move at first. I’ll need to wait him out, get him agitated, force him to make a mistake.
After a few long seconds that seem like minutes, Jeremy’s had enough of observation. He comes at me, flying high, ready to hit me in the neck or head and knock me backward. It’s an obvious move, one meant to rely on his power and height advantage. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it. When he comes at me, I lower myself down, and he flies over the top of me, barely grazing the tip
