I slapped the cage with my hand in frustration. “Counter, dammit.”
Luke didn’t listen as he and Tomas continued to take one another on. Glancing over, I saw the clock overhead counting down in big red numbers. There were thirty seconds left in this match up. At the very least, I hoped Luke could hang on until time ran out. No such luck.
Tomas pulled out from a triangle hold Luke tried to maneuver, and got ahold of Luke’s right arm.
“Shit,” I cursed, seeing the arm bar from a mile away. I wanted to yell at Tomas to get the hell off him, but I held back. I had to use restraint to keep my mouth shut.
“Fuck!” Luke growled when he was forced to tap out or have his arm broken by the arm bar.
When Tomas let him up, Luke threw his gloves across the cage in frustration.
“Can you give us the room, please?” I asked Aeryn, who stood a few feet away from me. He’d watched the fight as well.
He gave me an uncertain look but then nodded. “Yeah, we needed to do some conditioning outside anyway.”
“Thanks.” I watched as Aeryn, Tomas, and the three other students who’d been present trickled out the back door of the dojo, to the back parking lot where they typically conditioned and did drills.
I headed for the sound system and connected it to my phone’s Bluetooth. I pulled up the Waltz playlist, I’d made some time ago and pressed play.
Before entering the cage, I kicked off my shoes and headed inside the octagon. At that point, Luke sat in the center of the cage, his elbows perched on his knees, staring straight ahead, at nothing.
“Dance with me,” I said, holding a hand out.
He slowly raised his gaze up to meet mine and I had to fight not to shrink back from the scathing look in his eyes.
“This is bullshit.”
“Get up and dance with me, Luke.”
“What are you doing?”
I sighed and gestured with my hand again. “Get up.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Syd.”
“I’m not. Take my hand, Luke.”
He eyed the hand I still held out to him for a heartbeat longer, before finally standing on his own. I moved closer, wrapping one arm over his shoulder, and holding out my right arm long ways. Slowly, he took my hand in his and we assumed the dance position we’d learned months earlier. Luke took the lead, as usual.
“Let’s dance.”
I waited in silence, the music still playing in the background, loud enough for us to hear it. He sighed, but eventually took the initiative of the first step and then the second, until we were moving around the cage, circling it in a waltz.
“If any one of those twat waffles comes back in here and says a motherfucking thing about this, I’m busting their heads.”
I laughed. “No, you won’t because you don’t want to get suspended or kicked out of the NFA before your shot at Rodriguez.” I paused and narrowed my eyes up at him. “That is, if I don’t strangle you first.”
He lifted an eyebrow, challenging me with a smirk playing at his lips.
I curled my toes and reminded myself of the need to focus on the agenda at hand, not his lips.
“You want to know my favorite fight ever?”
“Sonnen versus Silva,” he said quickly, avoiding looking me in the eye.
I reared my head back and blinked. “So, you do listen when I speak.”
He captured me with his gaze. “In spite of my better judgment.”
