I froze. 'Excuse me?'
That word echoed in my head like a personal attack.
Predictable?
Me?
Absolutely not.
…Okay, maybe a little—but that wasn't the point.
I never win against him—ever. Not in arguments, not in sparring, not even in cooking (which was frankly the most offensive part of all). So clearly, the problem wasn't me.
It was… strategy.
Yes.
Strategy.
Which meant there was only one solution.
Abandon all logic.
I lunged at him like a dog that had finally gotten rabies.
As expected—because apparently everything with him is expected—he sidestepped effortlessly, like he'd been expecting this exact level of unhinged behavior.
"Are you even practicing the core breathing technique I taught you?" he asked, sounding mildly disappointed.
I spun on my heel and charged again. "Not everyone's like you!" I snapped, baring my teeth as I closed the distance.
I closed the distance fast this time, pivoting on my heel and throwing a kick straight at him.
