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We’ve been in this gym for only a few hours, but he might as well have been here and known everyone for years. Everything is just easy and fun, with no care in the world as he instantly becomes good friends with every person here, commanding the entire fucking room. I’ve often wondered if he has ever worked hard for something, or if he was just born with a horseshoe up his ass. And seeing him here today, taking nothing seriously and making everything a huge laugh-fest, and not even having to work full time to support himself… Hard work clearly isn’t that high on his priority list.
As Luca’s laugh echoes around the space once again, I grit my teeth and try my best to ignore him. But I’m going to have to see him, listen to him, and train with him every day now. Fighting against him was fucking frustrating, this is going to be torture.
I see him out the corner of my eye as I pull my coat out of my locker, and even just this glimpse of him sends a jolt of anger through me. His annoying as fuck smile, his messy, floppy hair, and the random tattoos all over his body like he let someone doodle on him for fun with no thought at all… He looks and acts the way he fights.
He’s unpredictable.
I fucking hate that.
I like being able to predict what my opponent is going to do next, as I am always a step ahead. But Luca Mitchell fights on feeling alone, and I swear he steps into the octagon to simply wing it. I have to be completely in the moment with him, unable to even try to anticipate what he’s going to do, as he’s like a loose cannon on speed. And the fucker is fast.
In and out of the cage, nothing is serious. He just does whatever the fuck he feels like, whenever he feels like it.
He cares about nothing, while I care about everything.
Yet here we are, in the same place, with the same opportunity. The one I worked so hard for, and the one he just seems to be having fun with.
“Ty, we’re all going to head out for a drink, you in?” Adão asks, pulling my attention back to everyone around me.
I shake my head. “No, I work tomorrow.”
“Already?” Max asks, looking surprised. “You just got here today.”
“Yeah, figured I’d start right away,” I say, shrugging my coat on. But really, I need to start right away. I need the routine, and I need to stay busy. I don’t do well with downtime, and the sooner I can develop a solid routine, the better.
I feel Luca’s eyes on me, and I try not to look at him. I’m not letting him goad me into losing this spot, which means I need as little interaction with him as possible.
“Ok, next time then,” Adão says with a smile and a light smack to my back.
I give him a slight nod, knowing I still won’t go next time. It’s nothing against them, I’ve just never felt comfortable in social situations, so I avoid them. And eventually we’re all going to be going our separate ways as we advance in our careers, so why get close now to just lose it all later?
As I pull my bag out of my locker and sling it over my shoulder, I still feel Luca’s eyes on me. And I’m going to crawl out of my skin if he doesn’t stop staring. He’s doing this on purpose, as he wants me to get pissed off. So I turn my head to him, showing him that’s not going to happen.
But he smiles that annoying smile, and I remind myself once again to stay calm.
Fuck, I want to smack that smile right off his face.
He doesn’t say anything as he just keeps smiling at me.
I take a deep breath. Don’t lose it. Don’t give in.
“So, where should we go?” Rosa asks, and Luca turns towards her.
“Obviously somewhere with karaoke,” he says with a big smile.
Everyone laughs, and I immediately turn, leaving the locker room. I walk straight through the gym, out the front door, and into the parking lot before anyone can try to convince me to stay.
It’s easier this way. For them. I hate seeing the disappointment on everyone’s face when I turn them down. But it’s better than the disappointment we all feel when the attempt at friendship inevitably fails.
I get in my car and pull out of the parking lot. And again, I tell myself why I’m here, as I glance in the rear-view mirror to see everyone piling out of the gym. I’m here to train, with no distractions. My process has served me well so far, and I’m not going to change it now.
And if everyone thinks I’m an asshole… well, they’re right.
But as I think about my plan, I am distracted. By a different asshole. Anger bubbles to the surface, and I grip my steering wheel tight. I know I need to work on my striking, but does it have to be with him? And how are we going to train together when we can’t even be in the same room without almost blowing it up?
A sigh escapes me as I rub my forehead with my hand. It’s just more motivation to stay focused and become the fighter I need to be. We both want to be complete fighters… but I can be better.
I’ll use this opportunity to my advantage, and watch this fucker go down.
