We slapped hands then bumped fists and started moving. Our forearms clashed as we fought for control, both of us trying to position our arms better. Mason attempted to force my head down, but I maneuvered away.
He went for a quick, single-leg takedown, but I sprawled and pushed his head toward the mat before moving behind him.
“Too slow,” I taunted.
“Dick,” he mumbled as we reset and tried again.
Coach Luis walked by and watched closely. “Keaton, watch the head position. Don’t let him control the angle.”
I adjusted immediately.
The next few minutes flew by with hand battling, entries, and defenses.
Then Mason suddenly froze. “Ah shit.”
“What?”
He grabbed the back of his leg and hopped on the mat. “Cramp.”
I blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Stretch it out,” Coach Luis instructed.
Mason limped toward the edge of the mat, still muttering under his breath, leaving me standing there without a partner.
Rowan stood a few feet away. I hadn’t been paying attention earlier, so I hadn’t known if he was working with someone or waiting for someone to be available.
Coach Luis didn’t hesitate. “Keaton. Rowan. You’re up.”
Great.
Rowan stepped forward. We faced each other for a moment before slapping hands. We closed the distance between us, and our forearms bumped as we fought for position, each trying to control the other’s arms and shoulders.
It was strange being so close to him again. Odd in a way that had nothing to do with MMA and everything to do with our past.
He moved smoothly, slipping one arm inside mine to secure an underhook. I immediately pressed against his shoulder and turned my hips away, refusing to give him the advantage. His movements reminded me of what I’d seen when I’d gone to one of his jiu-jitsu tournaments in high school. I’d been in awe of his talent back then, and he’d only gotten better over the years.
Every time he adjusted, I countered, but apart from some grunts and heavy breathing, we both stayed silent. At one point, he moved closer, and my leg instinctively wrapped around his waist as I tried to block his movement. The position brought us chest to chest, and for a brief moment, I felt his breath against the side of my neck.
A shiver ran through me, and he hesitated for a moment, as if he felt something too. I told myself it was just grappling. Just two fighters trying to control position, but my body didn’t seem to care about any of that shit. He shifted his weight, trying to turn me, but I pushed back.
Coach Luis’s voice cut across the mat. “Good. Keep working. Don’t rush the entry.”
Rowan’s hand brushed the back of my neck briefly as he tried to move me. His grip tightened a little longer than necessary before he adjusted, but suddenly the touch felt too personal, and I pushed his arm away.
He straightened slightly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me.”
I scoffed and took a step back. “Just focus on the drill, Rowan.”
No matter how many times I told myself he meant nothing anymore, the moment he touched me, I stopped believing it.
7
