“Okay, I want everybody to pair up this time, and we're going to do it in rounds. So, I want you to start off with an unfamiliar opponent, then we’ll work our way down, and the winners will go until we've got the final two in the room. How does that sound?”
Excitement buzzes inside of me, knowing that we're going to have a longer session than last time.
I take my mask off, unable to control the smile on my face as I peer at Teddy, when a voice cuts through the air.
“I’ll start with Ivy.”
My spine stiffens as I peer over my shoulder and my gaze locks with Odesa.
“No threat, right?” She repeats my words from earlier, and I smile the same kind of smile that I would have worn the night of the sleepover, one that feels even more foreign on my lips now as I mask.
Maybe I'm not as different as I thought I was.
“Of course,” I breathe as Teddy reaches for my arm, holding me in place.
“Ivy,” he warns, yanking his mask off with his free hand, but I don't think, I just move, pressing my lips against his before I step out of his hold.
“Let's go,” I offer, moving to Odesa's mat.
The weight of my foil in my hand is undeniable as I fix my helmet back in place and take the correct stance. I can feel everyone staring at us, a familiar concept at this stage, but it’s Teddy’s eyes that burn beneath my skin the most.
“Go,” the command is given and we move immediately, both chasing the other as our swords clang.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Dip.
I block her first lunge toward me, rebounding quickly and relishing the sensation as the end of my sword pricks against her padded chest.
“Ivy, one.”
I watch her entire body tense as she looks down at the silver glistening against her suit, frustration trembling through her as she takes a step back. I make sure to loosen up my muscles as I try to keep my excitement at bay.
The tip of my blade is poised in position as we're called to go again.
We start off the same with familiar moves.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Dip.
We repeat the motion four times before she tries to come at me from a different direction. I deflect at the last moment, pressing the tip of my blade against her pads once more, and anger vibrates from her as she yanks her mask off.
I drop my foil, following courtesy, but seeing her anger fuels my own rage as heat blossoms through my veins. She steps closer toward me, blade in hand, as her nostrils flare.
“How does it feel having a broken mate? One who is going to want me forever?” she bites, making my heart thunder in my chest.
“I don't have a broken mate.”
Internally, I correct myself, insisting I don’t have mates at all. I hate them, that's why they're myhatedmates, but my thoughts don't land as I want them to and she scoffs.
