“We just missed him,” Alexander explains, correctly interpreting my look of confusion. “He saw you on the screen just as they called him to be on deck.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “So he’s?—?”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a cheer so loud, I can hear it even from back here. When I look up at the TV, I see what they’re cheering about: Nico has entered the cage.
At the sight of him, every molecule of oxygen leaves my lungs.
Part of it is his physical appearance, of course. I normally see him wearing jeans and a shirt, so seeing him now, shirtless, his muscles glistening with sweat, is a shock to the system. But it’s not just that. It’s also the look of concentration on his face, and the intensity radiating off of him. The Nico I know is sweet, and funny, and usually focused entirely on making me comfortable.
The Nico on the screen is the one the rest of the world sees.
I can barely breathe as the camera zooms in on his face, the announcer screaming his name into the microphone. I’m suddenly very aware of what Nico told me once before, about how fighting can be dangerous if your head’s not in the game. He seems focused, but maybe that’s just his poker face.
God, please let his head be in the game.
“Is he—?” I clear my throat and try again. “Is he better than this guy?” Turning toward Alexander, I’m sure my desperation is obvious. “I mean, he’s going to win, right?”
He nods, but it’s his true lack of concern that eases my anxiety. “As long as he’s the aggressor, he should be fine. This guy usually waits until his opponents are tired before working for a submission.”
“A submission?” I latch onto the word. “Those won’t hurt him, right?”
There’s a flash of amusement on Alexander’s face. “No, those don’t hurt.” Then his expression softens. “He’ll be fine.”
As the bell rings that signals the start of the fight, I take a deep breath and decide to trust him.
Thankfully, it becomes obvious right away that Nico is going by Alexander’s strategy. He rushes out of the corner, quick to throw out a combination of punches. He’s pushing his opponent back, chasing him with punches and then kicks. They’re not necessarily landing, but it’s such an immediate flurry of aggression that it takes me by surprise.
Still, I’m holding my breath as I watch him. When his opponent finally pushes back with a combination of his own, I gasp, my pulse pounding harder.
Please don’t get hurt, please don’t get hurt…
Everything feels like it’s in slow motion as the punch cracks into Nico’s jaw. Sweat flies, the crowd cheers…
And Nico laughs.
Which makes the crowd even louder. And when Nico shoots forward with a vicious combination of his own, they get louder still.
“Does he always fight like this?” I ask in a breathy voice.
There’s a huff of laughter beside me. “No. He’s usually checked in and stone cold.” Alexander glances toward me. “I guess something must’ve given him a morale boost,” he murmurs quietly.
My heart stutters at that, but I tell myself it’s just the adrenaline of watching the fight.
For the next few minutes, we watch Nico methodically and continuously break down his opponent. I don’t know the names of any of the moves, or what his strategy is, but even I can tell he’s good at what he does. I can see it in the way his opponent’s ribs redden from the repeated kicks, and from the flash of blood that tells me his face is cut.
Suddenly, Nico shoots forward and tackles his opponent to the ground. “Nice,” Alexander murmurs. Shifting into anothergear, Nico absolutelylays intohis opponent. It’s one punch after another, never slowing and each one being thrown harder than the last.
I clasp my hands over my mouth, barely breathing through the intensity.He’s going to win. Holy crap, he’s going to win.
And sure enough, with only thirty seconds left on the clock, the referee steps in and stops the fight. Nico wins.
A huge exhale ofreliefwhooshes out of me.Oh my God. Nico won. He’s safe.
“Well, that was unusual,” I hear Alexander muse. When I turn to face him, he looks both pleased and surprised.
“What was unusual?” I ask.
When he faces me, there’s a sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. “He rarely goes for the knockout,” he explains. “He’s usually a strike-to-the-end kinda guy.”
