Anger

James led me down to the basement where his music still blared from the speaker in the corner. He quickly scooped up his phone, shutting it off, before holding his finger up, and jogging away.

He returned only moments later, carrying the tape that still remained wrapped around his knuckles.

“You want me to box with you?”

My nerves were standing full attention, watching his face as a faint smile played on his lips. I’ve never been one to enjoy any form of physical activity outside of a leisurely walk. My eyes travel from James’ to the punching bag behind him, and back once more.

“Your mind is overthinking this,” he chuckled softly, “I can see it in those pretty, honeyed eyes.”

“I’m the furthest thing from athletic you’ll ever meet. Think,” I paused, trying to conjure up the most ridiculous comparison I could. “A slug.”

His eyes twinkled with mirth, “A slug, huh?”

“Can you imagine a slug trying to hit a punching bag?”

James shook his head, but a smile spread on his face as he imagined t