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I watch as Ty stands, expressionless as usual, and casually shakes his opponent’s hand. He doesn’t meet my eye, and I think that’s on purpose.
The referee waves him and I over, along with Max.
I’ve been to tournaments before where coaches have required teammates to forfeit if they face each other. Usually, it’s a gentlemen’s agreement, giving the win to whoever has the greater likelihood of winning. I’ve never been in that situation before though, and as it’s the coaches call, I’m not sure what Max will want to do here.
“What do you want to do?” the referee asks Max. “We can forfeit or continue with the match.”
Max looks between me and Ty. I bring my eyes to Ty, and he finally looks back at me.
“Either one of you willing to forfeit to the other?” Max asks.
Neither one of us says anything, as we continue to stare at each other. Anger bubbles inside me as he says, and does, nothing.
I’m here for a reason. I’m doing this to actually work on and develop my grappling skills. He’s here to get his head back in it. Like fuck I’m forfeiting to him.
Especially when I lost our last fight.
“Didn’t think so.” Max turns to the ref. “They’ll continue.”
“Alright.” The ref backs up and gestures for us to take position in the middle of the mat.
I cast a quick glance towards the benches and see the concern and uncertainty on our teammates faces. And I know it’s not just because of mine and Ty’s hostility towards each other. Because now, they don’t know whose corner to be in.
As the ref signals for us to begin, the sounds around me fade away as I bring my attention inwards.
Control the hip, anticipate, make him follow me.
As we step towards each other and touch hands, I avoid looking in his eyes. He’s just an opponent… nothing more.
He immediately goes for a takedown, but I escape and manage an arm drag, double leg takedown on him instead.
I hear the grunt escape him as he hits the mats, but he recovers quickly. And from there, it’s like a fucking dance.
I pass his guard, and a moment later he passes mine. He sweeps me, and then I easily control his back. We’re rolling as if we have done this a million times before. Almost like we know each other too well now. I can feel his thoughts and anticipate his movements. I’ve learned how he thinks, and we’re both taking advantage of our training together to keep us on our toes. It’s intense, and when the buzzer signals the end of the match, I’m both relieved, and wanting more.
He’s in mount position, with one hand on my shoulder and the other on the inside of my opposite arm. We both pause at the sound of the buzzer, and the sounds of the crowd come rushing back in. Ty quickly pushes himself off me to stand up.
I stand as well and immediately look to the scorekeeper.
The first match, for both of us today, that didn’t end in submission.
The scorekeeper is still tallying, so I briefly let my gaze travel to Max and the others. Max is standing with arms crossed, eyes on me and Ty, and everyone else is looking nervous while we wait.
And I can’t bring myself to look at Ty. I’m still really fucking angry that we’re even in this position, as he doesn’t need to be here.
The ref nods to the scorekeeper and walks over to us. My pulse is thundering as he gets closer, his face giving nothing away. He stands between me and Ty, holding each of our wrists.
“And the winner, by one point, is Tyler Roscoe!”
My head whips towards him so fast I almost break my fucking neck. And thank fuck his face is hidden from my view as the ref lifts his arm in the air, because I want to punch it. Hard.
That anger that was bubbling? It’s flowing like red hot fucking lava now.
The second the ref releases my wrist, I start walking. I shrug everyone off as they congratulate me, grab my bag, and leave.
That fucking asshole better stay the fuck away from me.
TWENTY-SIX
