A/N: Okay, so a few of you have asked how Christian managed to drop a weight on his head. I have no idea. I'm just going to say that he was a klutz and somehow managed it. Thank you again for all the positive reviews, and thank you to those who have favorited or followed this story. You guys rock!
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Vampire Academy. Sadly, I don't. All the wonderful characters, dialogue, and/or plot belong to the wonderful and talented Richelle Meade!
Chapter VII
RPOV
I took a long drink of water from my water bottle. Sweat was running down, soaking my shirt. I knew that I looked disgusting. I always did after practice.
I felt Dimitri's eyes on me. I had to admit, I loved his eyes. They were so deep and brown and soulful. Soulful. I never thought that I'd use that word to describe anything- or anyone. But then again, I'd never been this attracted to someone before.
If I wasn't already so hot and sweaty, his stare would've brought a red blush to my cheeks. But my face was already red from working so hard. I'd already done my warm-up and footwork, and it was time for my lesson now.
I took one last sip of water before capping my water bottle and rifling through my bag. I picked my glove, mask, and foil and then jogged over to Alberta, for the last part of my lesson. Dimitri was still standing nearby, about a strip away. He'd taken off his white jacket and was wearing a black t-shirt underneath- which was a good color on him. The shirt was tight enough that you could see the faint outline of the hard muscles in his chest and abdomen, but loose enough that it wasn't awkward. I bit my lip. Damn he was sexy.
"Hurry up, Hathaway!" Alberta yelled. I picked up my pace and ran over to her. Alberta frequently just referred to me by my last name. Hathaway-Mazur was a little long, and it didn't have the same feel as just Hathaway.
I smiled at Alberta as I stood in front of her. She saluted my with her foil and I saluted back before putting my mask on. She did the same and I fell into en garde position effortlessly. Alberta took on a slightly shallower position, as she was getting a bit old. The arthritis was starting to kick in, as she put it.
I could still feel the burn of Dimitri's gaze. I glanced over at him for a second. He was watching me intently, mentally evaluating everything I did. I gulped slightly before turning back to Alberta.
She lowered her foil and I extended my arm to hit her, a smooth and easy movement. The motions relaxed me and I took a breath and shut off my brain and just let muscle memory and instincts take over.
DPOV
I watched Rose as she took the rest of her lesson. It was as if she did not have to think at all, as if this was all natural to her. Of course, it probably was, with her mother and all. Janine Hathaway was an awed and worshipped name in the fencing world. Though she might not be the most decorated Olympian, she is definitely the most decorated fencer.
I watched as Rose and Alberta began to move down the strip. I squatted down, watching her footwork. I watched her already while she was practicing her footwork, but it was one thing practicing, a whole other using it in context.
She had a huge lunge. She could make it at least from en garde line to en garde line with one lunge. I noticed other little things too, like how she tilted her head slightly to the left and how she would pull at the left leg of her shorts, and occasionally the right leg. She seemed so relaxed and unprepared, her movements seemingly sloppy, but the moment she sensed a threat she tensed up and would strike back.
I watched her and before long, I was mesmerized by her long, endless legs, her flawless and tanned skin, and the way her body moved. I nearly slapped myself in disgust. She was my soon-to-be student, and if that was not enough, she was eight years my junior. Seven, I reminded myself. She will be turning eighteen at the end of the month, whereas I had turned twenty-five earlier. But seven years was still a lot.
The twenty minutes had passed quickly and before I knew it Rose was done with her lesson. I made my way over to her.
"Hey there, Comrade," she said.
"Comrade?" I asked, confused.
"You know, Soviet Russia, soldiers, comrades, all that junk," she said nonchalantly.
I raised an eyebrow at her words. "You don't even know what you're talking about," I told her.
"Sure I do," she argued. "I had to do report on Russia and the R.S.S.R. last year.
"U.S.S.R.," I corrected her. "I feel bad for your history teacher."
"He's an ass," she argued.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Stan Alto. The biggest dickhead in the world," she snorted.
"Isn't Stan Alto a coach here?" I asked, confused.
"Yeah, he is. He also teaches at St. Vladimir's High School. So does Alberta. She's one of the gym teachers," she told me.
I smiled. "What is it between you and Coach Alto?" I asked her.
"Eh, you know, never liked him. He's just mad that I kicked his ass when I fenced him in the seventh grade. You know, men and their egos. He's just upset that I, as a twelve year old, beat him, a twenty-four year old."
I chuckled. "I believe that. You are an amazing fencer. You probably could have beat him back then."
"Dammit!"
"What?" I asked, confused by her sudden cursing.
"I finally got you to use a contraction and then you just stopped!" she huffed.
"What do you mean?"
"You never say 'what's' or 'didn't' or anything like that. You always say 'what is' or 'did not' and to be honest, it makes you sound really old," she explained.
"But I am old," I replied.
"No you're not," she argued. "You're twenty-four. I could totally date someone who's twenty-four."
I raised a brow at that comment. "I am seven years older than you. That is pretty old."
"How do you do that?"
I raised a brow. "How do I do what?"
"That! That cool eyebrow-lifty-thing!"
"What? This?" I raised a single eyebrow up and down as she groaned. She attempted to do it herself but she ended up looking so funny. I began to laugh and she glared at me.
"It's not funny!"
I stopped laughing and then looked at her seriously. "I noticed some things from your lesson with Coach Petrov," I said.
"Really, o wise master?" she smirked, but in her eyes I could tell that she wanted to know.
"Yes. You have very excellent attacks, but your disengages are not good enough. You often rely on brute force to break through your opponent's parries, which is not good. What would happen if you met an opponent stronger than you?" I asked seriously.
"I won't," she protested.
"Yes you will. I will bet that I am much stronger than you. What will you do if I parry you?"
"I'll counter-parry," she shot back.
"What if you are too close?" I countered.
"Then I'll close my eyes and hope for the best," she said, resigned. "Fine, I'll work on my disengages, happy?"
"Very," I replied.
"Okay, I'd love to stay and chat, Comrade, but I have to go. The clinic starts in fifteen minutes and I'm disgusting right now. I have to change and grab something to eat."
"Alright. Goodbye, Roza," I said, using her name in Russian.
"Roza?" she asked.
"It's 'Rose' in Russian," I explained.
"Roza," she said, testing it out. "I like it."
I smiled. It was a beautiful name. "Goodbye, Roza," I said again.
"See you, Comrade."
A/N: The update's a little late, and I apologize for that. As you can see, their nicknames were introduced in this chapter. Also, I'm not sure if I've specified this yet, but the en garde position is the starting position in fencing. The en garde lines are where the two fencers start at the beginning of a bout. They are supposedly four meters apart.
~42
