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My mouth stretched into a vicious grin as I skated closer. But as I snapped my tongue down to perform the Rim Jab, just as we’d rehearsed, he launched himself into the air, his wings a blur.

Which we had definitely not fucking rehearsed.

Before I could comprehend what had just happened, Crossbody was shooting down again and slamming into my back. A grunt left me as I pitched forward, landing hard on the mat.

“The Rolling Rimmer almost got a classic Rim Jab in there, but the High Lord evaded it!” I heard David say over the mic, his voice the tiniest bit uncertain.

This wasn’t in the script.

He was going off-script.

What the fuck?

He pinned my shoulders to the mat, pressing a knee into my back hard enough to keep me down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed, trying not to move my mouth too much, my cheek pressed to the mat. “This isn’t—”

“Just stay down,” he snarled, pushing harder on my shoulders.

My eyes darted to Wesley, the ref, who was hovering uncertainly just outside of the ring. I tried my best to get out from under Crossbody, but he had seventy fucking pounds on me, and he wasn’t performing anymore. He was pinning me for real.

“Let me the fuck up,” I hissed, trying to buck him off. “What the fuck are you—”

“The Rolling Rimmer is trying his best, but it looks like the High Lord has him down,” David was saying, sounding a little frantic now.

The crowd was starting to boo, because he’d been pinning me for longer than three seconds, which meant the ref definitely should have called the match by now. But Wesley knew the outcomes just like everyone else behind the scenes, and this wasn’t supposed to fucking happen.

With a real shout of anger, I tried one last time to heave Crossbody off me, but he couldn’t be moved. Finally, Wesley dove under the ropes to count the pin, having no other option.

“And High Lord Crossbody wiiiins!” David yelled into the mic.

I scrambled out from under Crossbody as he finally released me, my chest heaving with anger. I was feeling wildly off-kilter, almost a little shaken, so my skates nearly slipped out from under me as I hastily made my way to the ropes.

As I climbed out of the ring, seething with fury, I glanced up at Holt’s private box. He was standing right at the window with his hands on his hips and a deep frown on his face, Taylor hovering beside him looking concerned. Larkin was behind them, holding up his phone, sticking his tongue out and flashing his middle finger for a selfie, completely oblivious to what Crossbody had just done.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Crossbody had gone off-script just so he could beat me.

I was so fucking angry I couldn’t even think.

David was saying something to the audience, but my ears filled with static and I couldn’t hear it. I skated down the walkway as fast as possible, refusing to look back and see Crossbody showboating for the crowd.

Did he feel good about being so fucking unprofessional that he went off-script just to snatch a tiny, meaningless victory from me? What the fuck was his problem? He was such an insufferable prick, and I was done playing nice. Our match was over. He’d royally fucked it all up.

So I was going to give him a piece of my fucking mind.

Chapter Eight

High Lord Crossbody vs. The Rolling Rimmer (Part 2)

Vince

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snarled to Crossbody the moment he entered his dressing room, where I’d already been waiting.

He jumped at the sight of me, then stiffened, the muscles in his arms and shoulders swelling as his hands clenched into fists.

“Do you know how fucking dangerous that was?” I yelled at him before he could answer. “You could have hurt me for real, Crossbody. What the fuck is your problem?”

“I would never have hurt you,” he said in a clipped voice, jaw clenching as he strode to the small cupboard and pulled out a towel to dab the sweat from his face. “I know what I’m doing.”