stood to catch his breath and looked toward the rafters nestled in the ceiling.
“Samuel?”
“I know, I know,” Sam said, slinging his arm across his chest to work his shoulder tension.
“I can see that your absence for the past two months hasn’t done well for your concentration. However, your endurance and speed has tripled.” Yang raised his brow. “Is it really that bad?”
Sam clenched his jaw and sniffed, wiping his forehead with his arm.
“I’ve known you for over a decade, Sam. And I’ve never seen you like this before.” Yang put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go work it out on the bag? I just don’t think it’s wise for us to fight right now.” Yang laughed and continued, “Even though I’d love to kick your ass.”
Sam walked swiftly toward the mirrored wall and snatched up his bag. He retreated to the showers and let the hot water pour down his back. Uncharacteristically, it had been two days since he had showered; he’d been trying to keep the warmth away and wanted all things cold, to keep him as numb as possible. With his hands resting against the shower wall, he dipped his head back and forth under the hot stream.
I have absolutely no idea what to do. I have so many questions, but I can’t bring myself to see her yet. Nothing about her behavior makes any sense; this isn’t like her at all. First cheating, then leaving me in the parking lot? Where the hell did she go? And she started smoking again? Is she really that scared of commitment? Is she really that scared of me?
I wish I had never gone to New York. Everything is fucked.
After his shower, Sam quickly dried himself and threw on his gray sweatpants and black hoodie. He walked out through the gym, keeping his head down in order to avoid anyone sparking random conversation. His swift departure caught Yang’s eye and Yang jogged over to catch up with him.
“Hey, Sam, wait.”
Sam stopped before he reached the door but didn’t turn around.
“Face me, Sam. I’m still your Sifu,” Yang demanded.
Reluctantly, Sam turned and stood without dignity.
Noticing a tear, Yang looked to the floor, respecting Sam’s grief. He bowed and allowed his student to walk through the door.
*
Sam woke the next morning, but remained in his bed concentrating on the rhythm of his breathing and listening to his heartbeat echo with every pound through his ears.
Get up, Sam. It’s been a week since she left you in the parking lot. You have work to do. Stop trying to make sense of it all and get your shit together.
His phone sounded the familiar tone. No matter how many times he had heard Charlie’s signature text alert over the past week, it never dulled the misery—it was like someone twisted a sword through his gut with every syllable in the chorus of Summer Breeze .
I really gotta change that ringtone.
He retrieved his phone from his nightstand and read the message.
I still don’t expect you to forgive me. That time has come and gone. But please give me a chance to explain.
Not good enough, Charlie.
Sam didn’t return her text. He hadn’t made contact with her since she deserted him at her award ceremony. Trying not to care, he made every effort to keep everything in perspective. Leaving him in a parking lot was nothing compared to what she had done the week prior. He could forgive her for leaving him stranded, but was still considering whether or not he could begin to forgive her for everything else.
He sat at the edge of his bed, raking his hands through his hair. Looking around the unfamiliar room, his eye fixed on Charlie’s coat draped across the back of a chair. He exhaled, rubbed his face, and stood up. He managed a shower, but didn’t shave and refused to eat.
Sam was living with Gabe temporarily, and had to endure late nights filled with screaming orgasms from the bedroom next to his. But Gabe had been out last night, so Sam was able to get a good night’s rest.
“Hey, you
“Samuel?”
“I know, I know,” Sam said, slinging his arm across his chest to work his shoulder tension.
“I can see that your absence for the past two months hasn’t done well for your concentration. However, your endurance and speed has tripled.” Yang raised his brow. “Is it really that bad?”
Sam clenched his jaw and sniffed, wiping his forehead with his arm.
“I’ve known you for over a decade, Sam. And I’ve never seen you like this before.” Yang put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go work it out on the bag? I just don’t think it’s wise for us to fight right now.” Yang laughed and continued, “Even though I’d love to kick your ass.”
Sam walked swiftly toward the mirrored wall and snatched up his bag. He retreated to the showers and let the hot water pour down his back. Uncharacteristically, it had been two days since he had showered; he’d been trying to keep the warmth away and wanted all things cold, to keep him as numb as possible. With his hands resting against the shower wall, he dipped his head back and forth under the hot stream.
I have absolutely no idea what to do. I have so many questions, but I can’t bring myself to see her yet. Nothing about her behavior makes any sense; this isn’t like her at all. First cheating, then leaving me in the parking lot? Where the hell did she go? And she started smoking again? Is she really that scared of commitment? Is she really that scared of me?
I wish I had never gone to New York. Everything is fucked.
After his shower, Sam quickly dried himself and threw on his gray sweatpants and black hoodie. He walked out through the gym, keeping his head down in order to avoid anyone sparking random conversation. His swift departure caught Yang’s eye and Yang jogged over to catch up with him.
“Hey, Sam, wait.”
Sam stopped before he reached the door but didn’t turn around.
“Face me, Sam. I’m still your Sifu,” Yang demanded.
Reluctantly, Sam turned and stood without dignity.
Noticing a tear, Yang looked to the floor, respecting Sam’s grief. He bowed and allowed his student to walk through the door.
*
Sam woke the next morning, but remained in his bed concentrating on the rhythm of his breathing and listening to his heartbeat echo with every pound through his ears.
Get up, Sam. It’s been a week since she left you in the parking lot. You have work to do. Stop trying to make sense of it all and get your shit together.
His phone sounded the familiar tone. No matter how many times he had heard Charlie’s signature text alert over the past week, it never dulled the misery—it was like someone twisted a sword through his gut with every syllable in the chorus of Summer Breeze .
I really gotta change that ringtone.
He retrieved his phone from his nightstand and read the message.
I still don’t expect you to forgive me. That time has come and gone. But please give me a chance to explain.
Not good enough, Charlie.
Sam didn’t return her text. He hadn’t made contact with her since she deserted him at her award ceremony. Trying not to care, he made every effort to keep everything in perspective. Leaving him in a parking lot was nothing compared to what she had done the week prior. He could forgive her for leaving him stranded, but was still considering whether or not he could begin to forgive her for everything else.
He sat at the edge of his bed, raking his hands through his hair. Looking around the unfamiliar room, his eye fixed on Charlie’s coat draped across the back of a chair. He exhaled, rubbed his face, and stood up. He managed a shower, but didn’t shave and refused to eat.
Sam was living with Gabe temporarily, and had to endure late nights filled with screaming orgasms from the bedroom next to his. But Gabe had been out last night, so Sam was able to get a good night’s rest.
“Hey, you
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