I hear him grunt when my fist collides with his chest. It must have been a hard blow, but it doesn’t reverberate through my fist like I want it to. I’m notfeelingit.
Christ, this is stupid and pointless.
The round ends. We return to our corners, then go back in for all the rounds, punches and blows and carefully dancing around each other and making sure the ref can see us at all times and that the judges can appreciate our forms.
My breathing gets heavier, but my lungs aren’t burning yet.
The ref calls an end to the match. I head to my corner so Coach can remove my gloves for me.
“You did great,” he says with a smile. “Good job.”
I take the mouthguard out and nod. “Yeah. Sure.”
My opponent and I line up in the center while we wait for the judge’s tally.
“And the middleweight victory goes to… Rafael Rivera!” The ref takes my arm and lifts it up.
The Dyschord U crowd cheers. I see Fenrir grinning widely. Asch and Blaze are both standing up and cheering.
Pandora stands too, but she’s clapping slower than everybody else, and her smile is strained.
My gaze lingers on her for a moment, and I wonder why she bothered to show up if she’s not even going to pretend to care.
But I guess Pandora Pavone is above all of this.
I know it’s not a fair thought. I know she’s struggling. Iknowthat.
I can’t help but resent her anyway.
Even my mother started leaving voicemails.
I stretch my fingers, clenching and unclenching them. “I’ve gotta go,” I tell him.
I don’t wait for a response before ducking out of the ring, and I don’t even glance in Pandora’s direction before bailing.
I should feel bad. It means I’m going to miss Fenrir’s fight, and I didn’t even bother to say anything to Asch or Blaze. But the itch tofeelsomething gets stronger.
I rush to the gym so I can take a shower. After less than five minutes, I get out. I’m still sopping wet when I pull my clothes on.
I have to get out of here.
I’m out in the hall when I hear familiar voices. I duck around the corner and press myself against the wall.
“He ran straight to the lockers?” Pandora says. “I thought he’d want me to give him a victory kiss or something.”
“Or something,” Blaze mutters. “It was a great match. He could give you a run for your money, Asch.”
“Boxing is different from MMA,” Asch says in that tone that means he’s explained something at least a dozen times. He relents, though, adding, “But I wouldn’t mind seeing what he can do out of the ring. We sparred a bit, but didn’t go all out.”
Maybe I should have.
Would that have felt better than this hollow victory, where the rules that dictate the fight make it less exciting?
I’m not going to get that exhilaration here.
I know where I can.
I know where I can get the high I’m craving, where I won’t think about Pandora’s lackluster response or the fact that boxing doesn’t make me feel as good as it used to.
