Read 97 (Rise of the Battle Bred) for Free Online

from?”
    “Toledo, Ohio,”
    “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  I ribbed him. “So do I get to go again, or is it your turn?”
    He folded his massive arms and made a thoughtful pose with his finger on his mouth.
    Flashes of imagination riddled my mind…what would it be like if I put my finger on his mouth?  Crap! I felt a blush coming on. I started chanting Toledo, Ohio in my head. It was a nice calm thought that had no reason to make me blush.
    “Yeah, I think I’ll take my turn now,” He said, nodding seriously.
    Of course he would. I shouldn’t have told him my weakness right off the bat. He could use it against me at will!
    “What is your favorite subject in school?”  He asked.
    I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately felt my skin cool. Thank goodness. “That’s easy. English,”
    He smiled at me. “There you go. Your turn,”
    I considered re-asking him the question about what his dad did for a living, but did I want to waste a question?  Then again, was he going to play hardball with me, if I asked him something really personal?  This called for some serious deliberation. I began walking again. He patiently waited. It would have helped me if I knew he struggled with the same embarrassment issues that I did. But he seemed as calm as ever.
    “What kind of exercise do you do?”  I finally decided to ask. It was killing me, the sight of his sculpted tan biceps straining against his white shirt sleeves, and the ripple of muscle under the skin in his forearms. How did a person get muscles on their forearms?
    I looked over at him, and didn’t miss the small smile he made disappear with the swipe of his palm. “Hm. It’s kind of hard to explain,” He started.
    I interrupted him. “Hey, you have to answer! Is it like Krav Maga or something?”
    He gestured me to calm down. “Uh, kind of.”
    “Tai Chi?”  I blurted out.
    “Just…give me a minute,” He stopped walking and looked around. We were on a sidewalk a couple neighborhoods away from our street. He spied a small playground across a field. “Come on, it’ll be easier to show you.”
    “Parkour?”  I asked him.
    He shook his head, exasperated.
    We jogged to the playground.
    He climbed the play structure and balanced with one leg on a wooden post. He began a series of graceful moves. Some looked reminiscent of Asian self-defense movements, while others twisted his body in the act of what looked like violent thrusts with an imaginary weapon. The difficulty of the regimen seemed to escalate. He switched effortlessly from one leg to another. Then he began to leap from one post to another, heedless of the swaying bridge and curvy slide. I gasped with each jump, fearing he would fall and break something, but I needn’t have worried. William’s body was a finely tuned instrument of power and grace.
    Woe to the enemy of this man!
    The expression on William’s face was grim; he seemed in another time and place. Fluidly, he moved, his jeans plastered against the thick muscles of his thighs. He never even glanced at me.
    It was just as well. I had to wipe some drool off my chin and tweak my shirt away from my belly repeatedly to cool off. Maybe I did have a fever.
    He finally jumped down, a twelve-foot drop if it was an inch, landing softly on the balls of his feet.
    I simply stared, jaw dropped in astonishment.
    “I suppose there’s a little parkour involved,” he said with a shrug. He wasn’t panting or sweating.
    I put my arms up, a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what to say,” I was completely amazed. And a little afraid at the raw power he displayed.
    He walked up to me and looked down. “It’s called Misrillet . I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
    I just shook my head. I couldn’t believe I had been admiring the arc of my throwing arm this morning. I was such a dope. I didn’t have time to feel self-conscious about it though because William launched into his next question.
    “How do you know when you’re