Page 108 of Shamed
I can’t even fathom what it would have been like for him to live with that over his head at such a young age, feeling isolated from his friends, feeling like a mistake, feeling like he was hated before ever being given a chance. It must have messed with his mind.
Clearly, itdidmess with his mind.
The thought cleaves my heart open, making it bleed.
All the remaining pieces had snapped into place after he told me. And I finally understood why he keeps to himself. Why he’s soalone.
I know he expected me to hate him for what he is, and for what hethinkshe is, but how could I?
He isnothis father, or sperm donor as he said.
He is not Dylan.
My eyes stay glued to Mase as he demonstrates a bear hug attack, and the different maneuvers to use depending on how the attacker is gripping you.
His class is in a different room tonight, toward the back of the gym in a space with no windows.
He told me he likes the other room with the large window wall because nobody feels like they’re trapped in there. But a group of teenagers from the youth center have been working on a beautiful mural this week to cover the plain white walls, so here we are.
I’m supposed to be atTeaseright now, but I called in sick to come here and see Mase instead.
It hasn’t felt right going there lately, but it especially hasn’t felt right since we slept together.
I’m sure I’ll get shit from Chester tomorrow, but this is worth it.Heis worth it.
Surprise had flashed on his face when I turned up tonight, followed by a small frown, but he didn’t attempt to keep me out of his class.
I think he knows I wouldn’t try to talk to him during his lesson. I’ll save it for when we’re finished.
It’s been two days of avoidance, of us circling each other in the apartment, and stilted words spoken here and there, and I can’t stand it. I miss his smiles. I miss his words. I miss the closeness we developed, and the companionship.
He even sent a female Uber driver to pick me up instead of coming himself. The sight of it idling outside the club the first night had been like a punch to the gut I hadn’t been prepared for.
I just wish he believed what I said about him, because I certainly do.
I don’t think he’s evil, and I don’t believe he’s capable of forcing himself on a woman, no matter how much he thinks he is.
He spends so much of his time helping women defend themselves.
So, for him to suddenly become the very thing he’s spent so much of his life shielding others from?
No, there’s not even a sliver of my mind that thinks he’d hurt me or anyone.
I watch as Mase lets Rachel—the woman he’s using to demonstrate the move on—knock him to the ground, after showing her how to kick out one of his legs.
I can’t seem to look away.
He’s dressed in a pair of black gym shorts that sit low on his hips, and earlier, he had lifted the bottom of his muscle shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, which gave me—and every other woman in here—a glimpse of the V below his abs.
I had remembered running my fingers over the hard ridges, feeling the light dusting of hair, and I’m sure color tinged my cheeks.
“Very good,” he tells Rachel. “Now, let’s try it with me holding your wrists.”
My eyes track the way his muscles flex with every bend, twist, and jab, and I realize I’ve only ever admired the muscles on him, rather than looked at them as a threat, like I would with others in the past.
“Okay, now I want you to pair up.” Mase briefly glances at me, and I swear, I see his body tense before he looks atthe others. “One of you will be the attacker, using different holds from behind, and the other will practice the ways I’ve demonstrated to try to break free from them. Then you can switch places.”
Me and Mandy—the woman closest to my right—pair up and begin working on the maneuvers for the next twenty minutes. My favorite way ends with Mandy, my attacker, on the ground, just like I was all those years ago.
