C2 Chapter Two : Pussy

BEGINNING OF RECOUNT…………

Debra's pov

It had been the south yard.

The evening breeze was cool against my skin as I trained. By then, the yard had gone quiet, the last voices from the academy fading behind the dormitory walls.

I had been there for a while. The new trainee.

Quiet, always quiet. I kept to himself, trained alone, spoke when i had to, and never seemed interested in whatever the others were doing.

Then, he had walked in like the place belonged to him..

…………………………………………………

You’re still holding it wrong.”

I scoffed.

“I’ve beaten three instructors this week.” I said, matter of factly.

“And yet,” he said, almost gently, “you’re still holding it wrong.”

That smile of his appeared.

The one that always made me want to drive the wooden blade straight through his belly.

My fingers tightened around the hilt. My eyes staring daggers at him.

“You’re enjoying this.”

He stepped fully into the dirt and drew his own practice sword with lazy ease.“Definitely.”

His midnight-blue eyes flashed as he lifted it. “Come on, then.”

I was taken aback. “What?”

“You wanted to prove you’re better than me.”

“I don’t need to prove anything.”

“Good.” He yawned. “Then this should be easy.”

That did it. Something inside me snapped.

The darm arrogant bastard.

I charged.

The first clash sent a crack through the quiet yard.

Wood slammed against wood. Xander barely shifted his weight in any way. I twisted free and struck again - He stepped aside. Another blow, he blocked.Another - he ducked. Yet, I threw another. He turned my blade away with almost insulting ease.

He was annoyingly good.

I was breathing hard already.

To the academy, I was a boy. Debran. That was what the uniform said, what my cropped hair suggested and what my lowered voice confirmed whenever someone bothered to ask.

And people did bother.

One of which was the senior recruit sparring against me.

It was only i that knew how much work went into making all those lies believable.

Beneath the oversized clothes and carefully bound chest was a girl, who had learned very early that life wasn't some bed of roses.

So, I had become a boy instead.

“That’s it?” Xander chuckled, revealing his teeth.

I didn’t answer. I attacked harder.

Xander backed away, still relaxed. “You’re angry.”

“No.” i hated the stupid grin across his stupid face.

“You’re definitely angry.”

I lunged but he sidestepped. “You’re also getting predictable.”

I tried to block off his words, gave a spun and swung from the opposite direction.

He blocked. “Better.”

I came at him again. “Still predictable.”

and again “Too wide.” And then again.“Too much shoulder.”

I kept coming, angrier. “Yikes, too much anger.”

I stopped, my chest rising and falling harder.

Xander stood several paces away, calm as he had started. That triggered me the more.

“You’re doing it again,” he snickered.

“Doing what?”

“Fighting me instead of fighting properly.”

I stared at him.“You’re not taking this seriously.”

He combed his hand through his caramel hair. “And what makes you think I'm not?”

“You’re mocking me.”

“I can do both.” That irritating smile returned.

“That’s your problem, you know, You want to hurt me more than you want to beat me.”

I charged without hesitation.High.

Xander was on the defense again. I went low, he moved. I drove my shoulder in, he twisted away.

I recovered and cut across his broad chest.This time, he caught the blade, and for the first time since we started, his expression shifted - just a slight lift of his eyebrows.

“There.”

I froze.

“That was almost clever.” he made emphasis of the word ‘ALMOST’

Heat flooded my face. Almost?

“Don’t get excited.”

I attacked again, but he blocked and gave ground.I pressed forward, xander kept retreating, redirecting every strike with irritating precision, but never truly engaging.

It was infuriating. Darn him.

He wasn’t fighting me. He was letting me fight myself. Yet, I couldn't stop.

“Stand still!” I snapped.

“Why?”

“So I can hit you.” I let out a heavy breath.

“That doesn’t sound like a particularly good idea.”

I swung. He ducked. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told.” he combed his hand through his hair again.

I thrusted but he knocked my blade aside.

“You’re slow.”Another strike.

“Too angry.”

“Too obvious.”

“Too desperate.”

My breathing grew ragged, my thoughts narrowed to only him, his calm face, his easy voice, the way he never seemed to try. I wanted to wipe that expression off his face so badly.

I wanted him to stop talking. I wanted…

I swung with everything i had.

Xander blocked, but the force drove him back half a step. He looked down at our crossed blades, then into my eyes..

“Well.”

I pushed harder. “What?”

“That one actually had some weight behind it.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

I turned immediately and swung again.

This time Xander caught my right wrist with his free hand.

I yanked free.

“You’re tired” He let me go,“ already”

“I’m fine.”

“Your breathing says otherwise.”

“I said i’m fine.” I didn't stop. I couldn't. He was deliberately making a fool out of me.

“And your footwork is falling apart.”

I glared. “Stop analyzing me.”

“Then stop making it so easy.”

I charged again. This time he stopped retreating. Our blades collided once, twice, thrice. I pressed forward with raw force. Xander met every blow with precise, almost elegant parries. I didn't give up.

Never knew how to.

I went harder he didn’t fall for it. Frustration became fury. Fury became the only thing I had left.

I forgot the lessons, forgot my stance, forgot patience. I simply attacked.

Xander watched it happen, and waited.

I swung,h e stepped inside my reach, Our shoulders nearly collided. But before i could recover, he hooked my practice blade aside, used my own momentum against me, and swept my weapon arm wide.

I stumbled, recovered and turned…

Too late.

The flat of his wooden blade rested against my shoulder.

Silence settled over the yard. I froze.

Xander lowered the sword.

“You lost.”

“No.” my ego completely shattered. “You did.”

“I slipped.”

“You lost.”

“I wasn’t ready.”

“You were attacking me.”

“That doesn’t count.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to try that argument with a little more gravity?”

I glared, he smiled.

“First lesson, anger makes you predictable.”

I looked down at my own sword. My fingers were trembling, not from exhaustion.

From humiliation.

I heard Xander slid his practice blade back into its loop.“Second lesson?”

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t challenge someone unless you’re prepared to pay the price of losing.”

My head snapped up. “You said nothing about a price.”

His smile returned, slower this time.

“I said a favor would be owed by the loser.”

“You never said that before we started.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I definitely did.” he pouted.

“You’re lying.”

“Probably.” He shrugged. He was a cunning fox.

“Besides. You agreed to the duel.”

“That doesn’t mean i owe you anything.”

“You lost.”

“I’ll fight you again.”

“You’ll lose again.”

He stepped closer. When he spoke, his voice dropped down to almost a whisper.

“That’s exactly why you’re dangerous.” I frowned.

“You let anger decide when your pride gets hurt, and one day someone who isn’t me will take advantage of that.”

The words landed harder than any of the blows.

I stood in the fading light, sword still in my hands. I had lost, and somehow that wasn’t even the part that infuriated me the most.

It was the fact that Xander had known exactly how to make me lose long before the duel was over.

Then he said it.

“I want a kiss.”

I stared at him. “I’m not gay.”

His eyes lit with that private, dangerous amusement.

He leaned in until his mouth was near my ear.

“Neither am I,” he said softly. “Pussy.”

………………………………………………………..

He had known. Not guessed. Known.

And he had walked away with the debt like it was already collected in his name.

Xander had seen through me from the beginning.

I awoke the next morning with the taste of last night still bitter on my tongue.The memory of Xander’s wooden blade against my shoulder, sat heavier than any burden I had ever carried .

Worse, was the echo of his voice near my ears and that single, calm demand.

A kiss.

I sat up slowly, the thin wooden bed beneath the mattress creaked. Pale morning light leaked through the narrow window of the little room where only two students resided : Michael Cur, and myself.

Michael was the kind of roommate you barely noticed, which was exactly how i preferred it. He kept to his side of the room, never asked unnecessary questions.Michael's side was neat and quiet, while mine remained almost untouched, my belongings kept close and carefully arranged.

It wasn't much of a room, but it was enough for two people who had no intention of becoming friends. He was quiet without being awkward, usually sitting on his bed with a book, cleaning his boots, or simply staring out the window while the noise of the academy carried on outside.

This was one of the smallest rooms in the dormitory. Some housed as much as twenty five or more.

Michael had one habit I was particularly grateful for, he always left before i woke up. By the time i opened her eyes, Michael's bed would already be empty, his boots gone, and the room blessedly quiet.

It was a good thing.

I preferred having the room to myself, even if only for a few minutes, so i could dress up without disturbance, before stepping into the noise and chaos of the academy.

For a long moment, i only stared at the opposite wall, listening to the distant academy bells and analyzing my next move on Xander.

I washed up, dressed and went off to breakfast.