Ethan stumbles back, almost surprised, but he recovers quickly. Jab, cross, jab, hook. The first three barely graze Jagger’s forearms, but the last hits its mark, and a wave of, “Oh,” rolls through the crowd.
“What the hell is he doing?” Roman grumbles under his breath. “He knows better.” He cups his hands around his mouth. “Fuckingmove, Jag!”
Jagger retreats from the center, dancing around the perimeter of the mat as Ethan pounds his chest like a gorilla. Feeding off his energy, the crowd roars with him, and Ethan grins. He strikes forward, using his long arms to try and pull Jagger to the ground until they’re head-to-head, though it seems Ethan’s arm is wrapped around Jagger’s neck.
This can't be good.
Ethan raises his leg and knees Jagger in the stomach as Jagger tries to wiggle out of Ethan’s hold. His fist connects with Ethan’s side inone, two, threequick jabs, and Ethan winces on contact but doesn’t let him go. Instead, he squeezes even tighter, turning Jagger’s face a nasty shade of purple.
Yeah. Definitelynotgood.
“Tell me there’s a break, Roman,” I demand. “Tell me there’s a stop clock or?—”
Palming the top of my head like it’s a basketball, a distracted Roman points my line of sight toward the red clock on the wall. Okay, so it’s real. It’s like a legit fight. If both fighters are still standing by the time the bell sounds, they each have some time to catch their breaths and get cleaned up. Right? Right?
That is, if Jagger can last five more seconds without passing out or having his head ripped off.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Hold on!” Roman bellows.
Jagger throws another sluggish punch at Ethan’s side, his ropes of muscle bulging while the timer counts down, signifying we’re close to the end of the round and Jagger can have a minute to get his head on straight. Clearly, he needs it.
Three. Two.Jagger slips out of Ethan’s hold.One. The bell sounds.
Rushing forward, the ref steps between Ethan and Jagger as Roman grabs a folding chair and places it in the corner closest to us. Sweat already clings to Jagger’s skin, and he wipes his forehead as he collapses onto the seat. He looks exhausted. Defeated, even. And they’ve only just begun.
Helpless, I stand on the edge of the mat as Roman talks to Jagger. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s unhappy with how the first round played out. He isn’t the only one. I scan the crowd. Some are shaking their heads. Others are scrubbing their hands over their faces as they replay what happened with their friends, trying to make predictions on how the rest of the fight will go.
It’ll be fine. Roman will help him clear his head, and he’ll go into round two in the right headspace. It’ll be fine. It’ll be…fine.
“Hey, you good?” Lexie asks.
I force a smile. “I’ve been better.”
“He’s going to be okay,” June promises me. “And to be fair, he got a few good hits in, too. I’m sure he’s just warming up.”
Nibbling on my thumb nail, I murmur, “That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
If only I believed it.
“Can I get you a drink?” Lexie offers. “Maybe the alcohol will calm your nerves.”
She’s probably right, but I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
We all know it’s a lie, though they don’t call me out for it.
Roman squeezes Jagger’s shoulder before stepping away, and Jagger stands, moving to the center of the mat in time for the bell to ring out again. The break must be over. The realization doesn’t give me any warm fuzzies.
With a sigh, Roman meets me on the edge of the mat. “He'll be fine.”
Pretty sure it’s a lie, too, but I won’t call him out for it, either.
Instead, I turn back to the fight, ignoring my racing heart and sweaty palms. “Come on, come on, come on,” I mumble.
Jagger’s foot connects with the outside of Ethan’s thigh, but he recovers quickly. Like a snake striking, he jabs at Jagger’s face.One, two, three.Jagger blocks the first, then misses the second and third. His head snaps back from the force, and I cover my mouth. This isn’t how I wanted the fight to go. Not even close. His movements are almost sluggish as he cocks his arm back for another strike, only hitting air.
How? How is this happening? It can’t…it can’t be because of last night. Right?
