When we arrived at Master’s H’s building, there was an awkward pause as Tyler reached for the door.

“You better go up first,” I said. “I’ll just hang out down here and come up in a few minutes.”

“Right,” he said tersely and disappeared inside.

After several minutes, I went inside and headed straight for the locker room. I changed slowly but still felt as though everyone would know Tyler and I had arrived together. I entered the studio and bowed toward the front of the room, following martial arts etiquette. Other students were milling around, waiting for class to begin. Master H caught my gaze, and I smiled nonchalantly.

“Good to see you, Lori,” he said before turning to Tyler, probably to discuss what forms the class was working on.

I couldn’t help but notice again how different Tyler looked in his gee than in his street clothes. The crisp, white fabric contrasted with his dark hair and eyes. His chest muscles filled the front of his gee, and he had a more confident stance. He stood up straight with his shoulders pulled back, unlike his seemingly self-conscious slouch at the Crowne Plaza.

Other students filtered into the room as well. I preoccupied myself with stretching so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, and I hoped no one would notice how often I stole glances at Tyler. Finally, Tyler called the class together and told everyone to get into rows. He called out, “Hana, dul, set…” counting as we moved across the studio doing ap cha gi, front kicks. Tyler’s gee made a snap sound every time his foot extended and retreated back to the floor. “Dwi uro dorah,” Tyler said, and we all turned around. “Bahro chirugi,” straight punches. “Hana, dul, set…”