Chapter 8: Disturbed

It was two hours after practice on Saturday ended before Jag realized he'd left his cell phone in the auxiliary gym.

The side door near the gym was thankfully open; teachers were probably working or something. As he neared the auxiliary gym, he could hear the sound of someone punching and kicking a bag. He walked into the room to see Jaina Solo fiercely working at the punching bag in the corner. She had discarded the tank top she'd worn earlier in the day and was now only in her sports bra and cut off black sweat pants. Sweat dripped from her body.

"You just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to come in?" She never looked away from her bag.

"Sorry," he stammered out.

"Well, that's one I never thought I'd hear coming from you." She steadied the bag and turned away from it, towards him, all the while stretching and moving around so her muscles wouldn't cramp.

"I was just looking for my cell." He composed himself quickly.

She cocked her head and regarded him for a moment. "Hm… odd place to look for it – standing in the doorway. Especially when you could have asked me. Your girlfriend called about a half hour ago."

"My…?"

"Some girl named Shawnkyr. She didn't seem too happy that I answered your phone."

"You answered my phone!"

"It was ringing. I get annoyed when objects make noises that disrupt my concentration." She grabbed the phone off the floor and tossed it to him. "By the way, next time, turn your cell off. Having it ring during practice is a good way to piss Kyp off."

He nodded at the advice, but couldn't help himself. "Why don't you respect him?"

"There are a lot of people that I have no respect for. You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"Coach Durron."

"I respect him, he's my coach."

"Then why do you call him by his first name?"

"Because he babysat me when I was two," she said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But you're not two anymore."

"He's been having dinner at my house on a regular basis since he was nineteen. He asks me and my brothers to call him Kyp. It's weird calling him anything else – for us and for him – so save your lecture." Jag still refused to yield to her argument; he was brought up where it was improper for someone to address their superiors in the way that she did. After a few moments, she seemed to give up trying to convince him to see it her way and walked over to a bench press. "Mind spotting me?" She nodded to the weights.

"Um… sure," he replied, startled by her sudden change in attitude. He stood behind her as she lay down and began her bench presses. They were silent as she steadily pumped the weighted bar up and down. Jag tried to focus on something other than her. It was Jaina after all, but then again, he was a male and she was wearing nothing but a bra, shorts, and sweat bands on her arms. She thankfully only made him spot for a few minutes before she put the bar back on the rack and got up.

"Thanks," she said as she passed him on her way to the treadmill. He shook his head; he had never figured her for such a dedicated exerciser.

"How long do you work out?"

"Five hours on weekdays, 'til I collapse on weekends."

"Everyday?" He tried to be unimpressed, but it was impossible. Not even his father or the native people of Csilla forced that rigorous a training.

She shrugged it off, "Yeah."

"That's why you're so good?"

"Good at…?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Fencing," he said, annoyed. What else would he be asking about? Then he realized what she had been implying. It took all the self control he had to not blush. Instead, he focused on her.

She stopped her steady run, got off, and walked toward him a bit.

"Good in general…or better than you?"

He shifted uncomfortably, disturbed that she could read him so well. "Both."

"I'm good at fencing because I've been doing it since I could hold an epée, and because I work my ass off for it."

"And you're better than me because…?"

She looked at him for a moment before answering. "You're strong, fast, intelligent. You don't let your feelings get in the way while you spar. You were obviously trained very well, and you have a lot of potential."

"You still didn't answer the question."

"You're fast but stiff. You keep your emotions out of it, but if you do slip up, you don't know how to cope and use them to your advantage. You were trained to very specific moves, and your potential allows you to pick up on others quickly, but you can't improvise for yourself. That's why you'll never beat me."

"That's it?" he asked sarcastically.

She smirked. "My God, no, I left out the most important part."

"Which is?" She walked up to him, stopping about a foot away.

"You think too much. You don't feel, let go, lose yourself in what you're doing. You're afraid to get intense," her voice dropped low and she took another step forward, touching their bodies together. "Why are you so afraid to get intense, Jag?" she whispered. Jag could do nothing but stand and stare at her. Her gaze was still calculating, but Jag realized she was just trying to figure him out, rather than judge him.

"I have to go." He walked quickly out of the gym. He knew that if he hadn't left, he would have done something very foolish. Damn Jaina Solo for getting into his mind. She obviously, purposefully tried to manipulate him into doing something foolish, so she could mock him for all eternity for it.

Still, as he walked out of the building, he couldn't shake the feeling that had come over him or the picture in his mind about what he had been about it to do, and Jag couldn't figure out what disturbed him more, what she had done to him or what he had almost done to her.