“Then you should be happy.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
Cole turned toward the exit.
Derek grabbed his shoulder.
It was a small movement, but Cole felt every detail of it: the pressure of the fingers, the shift in Derek’s weight, the angle of the arm.
His body reacted before he consciously decided to move.
He lowered his center of gravity, turned toward the grip, and stepped out of its line. Derek’s hand slipped away.
No punch.
No shove.
No dramatic throw.
Just a simple release.
For a moment, both men stood facing each other.
Derek looked at his own hand.
Then at Cole.
“What was that?”
Cole straightened his shirt.
“You grabbed me.”
“You moved like a fighter.”
“I moved like somebody who doesn’t like being grabbed.”
Derek’s expression darkened.
“You think you’re special?”
“No.”
“Then Friday will be easy.”
Cole looked around the gym.
A few people had stopped training to watch them.
