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He stops and turns to face me. “You can’t be fucking serious. You actually want to get in the ring right now?”
My fists clench at my sides as I try to control my anger. “Yeah. I do.”
His eyes close as he sighs and he runs a hand over his face.
We’re both silent for a moment, until desperation rises within me. “You said we would,” I say, the words coming out softer and more pleading than I intended.
His gaze meets mine again, and I’m surprised to see just how dull his eyes are. He holds my gaze for a moment longer before he mutters, “Fuck,” and heads to the glove locker.
And as he yanks the door open and pulls out wraps and gloves, a familiar feeling washes over me. A feeling I haven’t had in a long time, and one that is very unsettling.
I feel like a burden.
My whole life has been spent trying to prove my worth to people who were forced to take care of me. But it never worked, and they all left me. As a result, I gave up on myself and almost fucked up my entire life. But when I found MMA, I also found a sense of value and purpose I’ve never had before. It’s been the only thing that has ever made me feel good about myself.
Until Luca.
And now, with every failure in the ring, I feel my worth decreasing and like I’m losing the most important part of me. And Luca is now forced to take care of me.
And I don’t want him to leave me too.
I climb into the ring after him, and as I wrap my hands I try to push those thoughts down and just focus on this moment. I can do this. I need to do this.
“What do you want to do?” Luca asks, looking down at his glove as he fastens it.
“Spar,” I say immediately.
He lifts his eyes to mine. “Dude, you should probably just drill for tonight–”
“I said fucking spar,” I snap, as the emotions bubble over once again. I can’t keep doing drills. I need to just fucking do this and finally prove to myself, and everyone else, that I can.
Because I can’t lose everything that matters to me.
Luca’s brows draw together slightly as he seems to consider protesting again. But instead, he sighs and holds out his glove.
My heart rate increases as I strap my gloves on and take a deep breath. Then I step towards him, tap his glove, and get into my stance.
I can do this.
Immediately, I step in and deliver a jab to Luca. He easily blocks it and returns a jab onto my guard, then his eyes flick to mine like he’s checking in and gauging my response. But we’re not fucking drilling today, and there’s no fucking time for that.
I go right in for a combo on him, starting with a left hook to the ribs, another body shot on the right, and a jab-cross to his head. He grunts and steps back, his eyes flashing as he takes in a deep breath. My heart is thrashing as I tighten my guard and wait, needing him to get on with it and do what he needs to do.
His eyes drop to my gloves as he closes in on me, coming in with a jab-jab-straight right punch. I block each one, and when he goes for a right kick as well, I lower my arms to block it. But as he lifts his gloves, and my guard isn’t up and solid yet, the urge to step backwards takes over. Even though I know I can block it, and I have time if he goes in for another hit, being open like this is an unsettling feeling.
I enter the space between us again with a left foot jab, then a jab-cross to his head to distract him so he lifts his arms and I can land a left hook kick to his ribs.
Luca gives his head a little shake, and immediately returns with a straight right.
And I fucking flinch.
“Fuck!” I turn away from him and drop my gloves, blowing out a large breath as I close my eyes and try to get my shit together.
“Look, tonight is not a good night to do this. Let’s just–”
“No.” I turn around to face him again. “I’m fucking doing this tonight.”
Luca cocks an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
