Kind of twisted, but whatever.

I spun out to avoid a sharp thrust that would’ve surely hurt and delivered a rather brutal sideways kick to his back.

Zayne grunted but stayed on the balls of his feet as he faced me. “Ouch.”

“Sorry. Not sorry.” I shot toward him, losing the distance that kept him in my central vision, and Zayne must have realized that because he darted right. My breath caught and then exploded from my chest. I couldn’t move fast enough. His fist caught my shoulder, spinning me around. I stumbled back, stuck between irritation and respect. He’d done what he needed to do. Found my weakness and gone for it.

We kept at it, blow after blow. Most I deflected. Some I missed because we were fighting too close and he was too quick for me to gain any distance. Sweat dampened my brow, and my heart pounded from the exertion.

“I’ve taken you down five times,” I told him, dragging my arm over my forehead as we broke apart.

“And I’ve gotten you on those mats six times,” he replied. “Not that I’m counting.”

“Uh-huh.” I charged at him, dipping low and going for his legs, something I was learning was his weakness.

Zayne saw it coming and swung his fist again, but this time I was fast enough, moving to the side so I could see the punch. I caught his fist and twisted.

Zayne tsked and broke the hold all too easily, but I was prepared. I turned on my heel, moving behind him. Planting my weight on one foot, I swung my arms in a low arch to pick up momentum as I jumped off my left foot and spun in the air with my right leg out lower than usual, delivering a butterfly kick to Zayne’s kneecaps.

He went down onto his back as I landed and rose to stand over him.

“We’re tied now.” I grinned despite the ache in my forearms and legs.

Zayne picked himself up. “You’re enjoying this,” he said, knocking the strand of hair out of his face.

“I am,” I chirped.

“A little too much.”

Laughing, I started toward him but skidded to a halt when I saw that he’d lowered his hands and was staring at me with a rather strange look on his face. “What?”

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “Your laugh.”

“What about it?”

A smile formed and then vanished as he gave a shake of his head. “It’s nothing.”

“No. It’s something. Was it weird? Did I cackle? Peanut says I cackle. Like a witch.”

“No.” Half of that smile returned. “It wasn’t a cackle. It was nice. Actually, it was a great laugh. You just... I haven’t heard you laugh like that a lot.”

I shifted from one foot to the next. “You haven’t?”