It was obvious Deen had no idea what she was doing while following the martial arts instructional video. But then again, I wouldn’t either. I'd probably look like a clown if I tried this. And I was certain I'd just laugh at myself; SpookyErind would too.
That wasn't the case with Deen. Yeah, her movements were that of a novice's. Yep, she fumbled around and did awkward, sometimes even hilarious poses. But there was a certain beauty in her determination to get it right. She really was an A-type personality, a go-getter, putting everything she had into her single-minded effort to complete a task. Somehow, I found it enjoyable watching her try her best to do self-defense moves with zero experience.
Or maybe it was also because she’s extremely pretty?
Guys will probably enjoy this view too, I snarkily thought. The Amber Deen of Cresthorne Law, working out in a sports bra and cycling shorts? I wasn't sure what the perverted freaks of Deen's supposedly hidden 'fan's club' would pay to see this. Many guys would probably cut off their fingers to trade places with me right now, maybe even their hands.
I turned my head to the side to hide my grin. Deen didn’t notice me chuckle a bit.
While I didn't particularly care about her or whatever attire she wore, I did like the feeling of possessing something others coveted. It contributed to a sense of superiority—was this a craving of a superiority complex? Probably not. It was normal for humans to want what others had, sometimes even if one didn’t need it. Conversely, it was also fun to possess what others wanted, despite not needing it yourself—like this front-row view of Deen.
When I was a kid, my older boy cousins would often try to one-up each other about this or that beautiful girl that they know. And in high school, guys were still bragging about girls that they had a picture of. Creepy fucks. I swear, guys are just…hang on, girls also did it too. My fellow cheerleaders would compare pictures of hot guys they met during a game.
People probably just liked beautiful people…Hmmm…
Too bad I couldn't brag about living in the same house as Deen. Spreading around that I could watch her work out? I'd just get weird reactions from people. I could only do that if I was a guy.
Speaking of stuff guys would want, I bet they'd cut out their liver—oh, wait, a person would die without a liver; just one of their kidneys then—to have their arm squeezed between Deen's boobs. Actually, some guys would sacrifice their liver for that. If I wasn’t this averse to physical contact, I’d probably enjoy it too. Her breasts were very different from pillows, kind of a firm bounciness that was comfortable.
But that was a guy's perspective.
As for my part, I wouldn't say I was jealous of Deen's beauty and body. But if I was in her shoes, I'd have a freakin' mighty weapon to manipulate men to do my bidding. Okaaayyy...a tiny bit jealous then. I almost giggled at the thought of how much drama I'd stir up with all the arsenal she had for manipulation.
But if only considering the appearance aspect, I’d rather stare at her than be as beautiful as her. Although, just watching Deen grunt and shout as she punched and kicked was getting awkward, even if she was very nice to look at—such a weird way to refer to my best friend.
I have an idea. Since I was her bestest friend in the whole wide world forever and ever, I should get her something to drink. Deen barely sweated despite her tremendous efforts in destroying the air, she'd appreciate a nice cold glass of water or even just the kind gesture. She stopped mid-kick when she noticed I stood up, holding a pose with her leg in the air. She raised a brow at me. I pointed to the kitchen and then gave her a wink. The fuck, Erind? What was that wink for?
Deen didn’t know either and gave me a confused smile before returning to her practice.
"How did I do?" Deen asked, pausing the video as she saw me return with a pitcher filled with ice-cold water and a glass.
"You were certainly, um, doing something." We stared at each other before laughing out loud.
"Hey, be serious,” she said. “I'm trying to get better at fighting. And so should you."
"You're doing fine, don't worry about it," I said, handing her a glass of water so she'd forget about trying to convince me to practice along with her. "I think you're improving in the short time I watched you. But what do I know? I barely have any knowledge about martial arts except for my PE for a semester where I took judo classes."
"I didn't know you did judo," said Deen, handing me back the glass, now half empty. I placed it and the pitcher on the coffee table. "You should be teaching me." Her eyes lit up with eagerness. "A practical experience is way better than learning from a video. We could practice...erm, what's the term? Wrestling?”
“Grappling,” I corrected her.
“Grappling? Yeah, we can practice grappling and all those, um, judo stuff where you hold people."
Grappling with Deen? No, thank you. More physical contact was a no-no. If I was forced to retake my judo classes now, I'd probably lose control of myself and rage. What would guys be willing to pay to be able to have a judo match with Deen? An arm and leg? Plus their left testicle?
"Why are you giggling?" Deen asked, glaring at me. “Are you making fun of my attempts to practice?”
"No, I'm not," I said. "I just thought that you wouldn't believe me if I told you I did judo before."
"I believe you. I know you won't lie to me."
Hey, that one's a low blow, I thought with ironic amusement. "I just know very basic stuff though. I put in minimum effort to pass that class. It was kind of disheartening to do it because I'm just short and thin, so it was hard to do the techniques since the other girls were taller than me." Actually, I wasn't disheartened, but more annoyed. Our sensei had taught us judo could beat bigger and stronger opponents—maybe if I was already an expert that'd be true. However, there were weight divisions in judo for a reason.
You are reading story REND at novel35.com
"I can order judo lesson videos or something," Deen said. "I don't know if those are available, but I can try to find—"
"No, it's fine," I cut in. Let us limit physical contact to a minimum. "Aren't you going to continue practicing?" I asked, hoping to get her mind off of trying judo. I regretted bringing that up. Perhaps, I should've stuck with something more harmless, like telling her I was a cheerleader in high school.
"Just going to wipe my sweat," Deen said.
I looked around and saw her towel draped over the armrest of the sofa behind me. I reached for it and tossed it to her. She wiped her face, combing back the strands of hair that had escaped her bun, followed by her neck. After she had dried her arms and exposed her mid-section, I held out my hand to her.
She gave me a surprised look.
"I'm telling you to give me the towel," I explained to her with a raised brow. From Deen's sidekick to demoted to towel boy, or girl rather—again, many guys would sacrifice maybe one eyeball for this opportunity.
"I...I'm not..." Deen stammered with a flustered face. She clutched her towel and stepped back. "Why do you want this?"
"Huh? I don't want your towel. What are you talking—? Oh, I get it." I laughed at her, a genuine one. A pretty rare occurrence. "I'm not going to smell your towel. Jeez, Deen. What the..." What the fuck are you thinking about, you crazy bitch, were the words that were about to come out of my mouth. But I changed it to the tamer, "I'm just telling you to hand me the towel so I can drape it here, over the armrest to dry. And then, you can go back to your practice."
"Oh, um..." Her milky cheeks turned strawberry in color. She grasped the towel even tighter, almost crumpling it in her balled fist like she was in the bad part of town fearing she'd get mugged. "I can put it there myself." She tossed the towel to the sofa.
Moving quickly, I caught it mid-air. This is payback, I thought, giving her a mischievous grin as I dangled the towel at her. "I got it!"
"Erind!" Deen exclaimed, almost shrieking. "Don't smell that!" She stomped over to me in a huff, but I jumped over the sofa. "I swear, don't you dare—"
"What do you mean don't smell it?" My voice almost cracked. Bullying her was so much fun! "I'm not going to smell it. Just going to hang this to dry because I'm your best friend."
"Then do that then." Her fists were clenched by her sides. Her reddening cheeks puffed up as her nose flared.
"What will happen if I do smell this?"
"Erind! I'm...I'm going to..."
"What? Fight me for this? Maybe this should be our practice—"
"Erind Hartwell, cut it out!" She stomped her foot with a tiny hint of super strength, causing the ground to slightly tremble. She didn't even check if she broke the floor tiles, intensely glowering at me. Even her neck became pink with embarrassment.
There must be something more to this than just the smell. Like the towel didn't have any bad odor at all. She barely sweated in the first place because of her much-improved physical capabilities, courtesy of the artificial Core on her chest. And she used so many expensive beauty products that the towel smelled like a perfume store. “Calm down. I’m just joking around.” I placed the towel by the armrest. “See? Just being a best friend.”
Deen didn’t reply, her lips tightly pursed in irritation. She turned around and continued with her thing.
"Erind, I'm done practicing." Deen switched off the TV and turned to me. The words I had been waiting for! And it didn't take her that long to finish her session. I watched only like half a dozen trailers for upcoming movies, all of which sucked, while lounging on the sofa. Staring down at herself, she stuck her tongue out. "Urk, sweaty again."
That was my cue for round two of teasing. I quickly sat up and scouted over to the side of the sofa where I hung her towel. I grabbed it and checked her reaction, expecting her to get her feathers ruffled again.
"Erind...you're my best friend right?" she slowly spoke, emphasizing each word.
“Uh, yeah?” I cautiously replied, sensing something was wrong.
“Can you help me wipe my back?”