Age 19
The sun was still climbing in the sky, burning off the last wisps of fog that clung to the sparring field. Evan adjusted his stance, feet shoulder-width apart, hands loose and ready. Across from him, Mia narrowed her eyes, determination flickering behind them.
“Again,” she said, breathless but grinning.
Evan smirked and lunged, holding back just enough to keep her challenged but not overwhelmed. She blocked, pivoted, and tried to sweep his legs. He caught her ankle mid-motion.
“Better,” he said, releasing her before she lost her balance. “Don’t telegraph it so much.”
Mia groaned. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“It gets easier when you stop overthinking every move.”
“Coming from the guy who lives in his own head,” she teased, stepping back and brushing her hair out of her face
