My heartbeat sped up. What if he remembered us? What if he remembered our kiss? “Ah,” I said, trying to sound cool. “You remembered where the good vending machine was. That’s great. A day without potato chips is a day without sunshine. Crime-fighting fuel, in fact.”

“Are you done?”

I smiled. He didn’t sound cranky. In fact, he kind of sounded excited. “Probably not, but you can continue anyway.”

“Meet me?”

“I was thinking of working out. You up for it?”

“I’ve been doing physical therapy since the day I woke up in the hospital.”

I scoffed, “I mean a real workout.”

“Okay. You try mending damn near every bone in your body. And your brain. And tell me how real it is.”

I paused. I could hear irritation in his voice, seeping through the phone in ruby puffs like tiny clouds filled with anger. Leave it to me to kill his good mood instantly.

“Sorry,” I said. “Just kidding. My gym or yours?”

“I could hit something,” he said.

AS MUCH AS I loved my kyo sa nim, Gunner, I had to admit to myself that I missed Chris’s smelly gym a little more. It was part gym, part zoo that housed grunting, thick-necked thug types. But there was something about it that drew me in. Maybe that nobody was judging me. Maybe that I could sweat and cuss and throw punches and it wouldn’t be seen as weird or unladylike or gross.

Maybe it was that Chris was at this gym, and there was something about working out alongside each other, our sweat comingling on canvas, that made me like it.

I got out of my car. Chris was already there, waiting for me by the front door, gym bag in hand. He was still in dress pants and a tight polo shirt, his key card dangling from his belt. His hair was shiny from gel, and he was wearing his sunglasses.

“What took you so long?” he asked when I got to him.

“I don’t know, maybe one of us has to drive the speed limit, and it’s not you.”

“Or maybe one of us is more excited about hitting the bag than the other one. You sure you’re up to it?”

It had been a while since I’d been to Chris’s gym. But it hadn’t been long at all since I’d last pummeled an inanimate object. I’d been at the dojang twice in the past week alone, working on ducking and bobbing. I had always been bad at keeping it smooth and staying in a fighting stance while coming up from a crouch. Gunner thought it was the only real thing holding me back in tae kwon do now.

“Oh, I am so ready,” I said, hooking my hand through his gym bag handle and swiping it on my way inside.