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He looks up at me in confusion. “What?”
I point at his phone in his locker.
“Oh.” He grabs his wraps and closes his door. “Nothing to worry your pretty, dark, twisty little head about.”
I watch him as he slides his rainbow headband in place, pushing his curls back from his face. And the defeated look in his eyes can only mean one thing.
“Mitchell drama?” I ask.
He sighs as he meets my gaze. “What else? But, whatever. It’s not worth putting effort into right now. Come on.” With a shake of his head, he walks towards the locker room door, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
As I follow him towards the ring, I take in the sudden shift in his energy. There’s tension in his shoulders, and for probably the first time ever, he doesn’t stop and talk to everyone along the way. I know his parents are a thorn in his side, but I also know he’s been dealing with their absurd demands his whole life. I’m not sure what happened to cause this mood change, but if this is how he wants to handle it right now, then who am I to judge. What do I know about parents anyway?
We climb between the ropes of the ring, and when Luca turns to face me, his usual smile is back in place.
“So, ready to hear your plan for today?” he asks.
I look up at him as I start wrapping my hands. “Aren’t we–”
“Ah.” He shakes his head with a large smile. “Trainer, remember?”
I roll my eyes, bringing my attention back to my wraps.
“You know you can defend most incoming hits with a solid guard,” Luca says while wrapping a hand. “And you need to be able to trust and hold your guard to defend against a hit. Which,” he lifts his eyes and smirks at me, “has always been a weakness of yours.”
My gaze narrows at him as I fasten my wrap. “Fuck off.”
“Only if you join me.” He flashes me a sly grin. “But it’s true. You find your guard, defend the hit, then drop it as you attempt to move the fight where you want it.”
An amused scoff escapes me. “What the fuck else would I do?”
“With an opponent who throws a lot of heavy, overwhelming strikes your way?” Luca points to himself, and I shake my head, blowing out a breath as I finish wrapping my hands.
“You should be holding your guard to avoid hits, while working your way into a position for counterstrikes,” he continues. “A heavy striker is going to control distance to stay standing, so instead of dropping your guard to bring the fight to the ground, you can keep your guard and strike back. You know… stay in the moment, and not try to make the fight what you want?”
I slide my gloves on and bite my tongue on a response to that. As much as that pisses me off… the fucker has a point. I’m fighting a striker, so I need to think like a striker.
“Fine,” I mutter. And when Luca looks up at me with a cocked eyebrow, I grit my teeth. “Alright.”
He nods proudly. “Tonight, we’ll work in tight and high guard. I’m only going to hit your guard, so you’ll get some exposure to safe hits while also holding the guard and getting your position for counterstrikes. Giving one stick to two birds.”
“Two birds one stone,” I correct him.
His brows draw together. “Huh?”
“The phrase is kill two birds with one stone.”
His face twists in horror as he lifts a gloved hand to his chest. “Holy fuck, why would you do that?”
I consider explaining, but decide it’s not worth the effort and just shake my head. “Never mind, let’s go.”
“Remind me never to take you around birds,” Luca mutters as he moves into his stance before me.
As I settle into my stance as well, lifting my gloves and pulling them tight towards my face into tight guard, I ignore the shit about birds and think about his plan. And it does sound good. Not only do I need to practice taking hits, but working on my defense so I can create offense against a heavy attacker is definitely another need.
“I’ll start with low power and build up,” Luca says, tapping his gloves together.
I nod, even though I fucking hate that. Low power. I want to feel a hit. I want to feel the exhilaration and thrill when his glove makes contact with me, and the urge that flows through me to deliver one right back. But those feelings have shifted, and something inside me is screaming no. And I can’t seem to ignore it.
