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She glared. “Aw, poor boy.”
He nailed her with a stare. “You’re going down tonight.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dream on.”
“Wait for it,” he said.
Mo sat down beside him, wearing that big open grin Noah already associated with the guy. “Hey, man. Missed you on Tuesday.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Noah said. “I couldn’t get in for a physical until today.”
Mo’s dark eyes narrowed. “You look like you’ve been under the weather.”
Given Noah’s habit of not paying attention to his own reflection, he wasn’t sure what exactly might be giving Mo that impression. The beard that was coming in, maybe? Given the last few days, though, Noah supposed he wasn’t too surprised. “That a nice way of saying I look like shit?”
Chuckling, Mo shook his head. “No, man. Just checking in.”
“Okay, let’s get started,” Mack called from the front of the room.
For the next hour, they worked through their yoga warm-up, striking-pattern exercises, and kicking forms. And then came the sparring matches and tag-team grappling match drills that Noah had been forced to sit out the last time. Adrenaline already flowing, Noah was freaking ready to mix it up and work out some of the bullshit in his head.
He started out in the grappling match, on a team with Mo, Sean, Tara, and some others he hadn’t yet met.
“Same rules as always,” Mack said. “We’re practicing groundwork here. Your turn ends either when you’ve been finished and tap out or you can get close enough to the edge of the mat for one of your teammates to touch you and tag you out. We’ll do a five-second change over, and during that time and that time only it’s okay for the tagging team to have two fighters on the mat both attacking their opponent. This is just about groundwork, no striking. Mo, Billy, you’re up first.”
The two men knelt facing one another about ten feet in from the corner of the mat. Big as Billy was, Mo looked a mountain beside him, and Noah was almost glad he wouldn’t have to face off with the guy. When Mack gave the signal, they tapped gloves and then grabbed each other around the backs of the head and shoulders, both of them throwing themselves into gaining advantage over the other.
Mo got into the mounting position pretty quickly, managing to get a hold on Billy around his chest and flip him over. But Billy demonstrated his agility, rolling his hips up so that he got close to a neck lock before their positions shifted again. They grappled for maybe another forty seconds until Mo rolled Billy close to their team’s edge, close enough for Noah to reach Mo’s foot.
Noah tapped Mo out and Mack started counting down from five.
Not wasting a second, Noah sprung out onto the mat, piling on top of Billy, who was face down. Then Mo was out and it was all Noah and Billy.
Eight years of wrestling training held Noah in good stead as he used every muscle group to dominate his opponent. He grabbed hold with his arms, worked to gain leverage with his legs, fought against getting pinned with his stomach and back. From the corner of the mat, Mack called out guidance and encouragements.
And though it felt good to exert himself, just as it had the other night, Noah couldn’t ignore that he didn’t feel anywhere near as strong as he had at Saturday’s class. The energy it took to compete effectively against a much more practiced opponent was more than he had after nearly a week of neglecting himself, which was why within about a minute, Billy had them close enough to his team’s sideline to get tapped out.
For a few seconds, his two opponents double teamed him, and then it was just Noah and a guy whose name he didn’t know. The man was also skilled, though Noah fared better against him and ultimately gained the advantage, catching him in a half-nelson hold around his neck.
His opponent struggled against it, but Noah kept squeezing until the guy tapped out, his hand smacking against the mat.
One of his teammates joined him as Mack counted down from five, and then Noah’s turn was over. Way too fucking fast. Because the adrenaline from competing for just those few minutes was a rush. And Noah wanted more of it.
Not to mention, those few minutes in the match were the first all week when something successfully distracted him from thinking about Kristina.
Kneeling on the sidelines again, Noah watched Sean take on one of their opponents, who managed to gain the advantage. Dani tagged her teammate, and then it was Sean and Dani on the mats.
“This ought to be interesting,” Billy said from next to Noah.
And it was. Though Sean probably had a good fifty pounds on Dani, she was fast and held her own against him as they grappled and fought for domination. Sean managed to pin her, his knees between her legs, his arms winding around her neck and going for a D’Arce choke. But somehow Dani got one of her arms inside his and was able to break the choke, roll her hips, and lock her legs around his neck. She reached out a hand…and one of her teammates was just able to reach her. They tagged her out.
“What was that about going down?” she said as her teammate joined in against Sean.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Sean said. “Revenge is going to be so sweet.”
New competitors subbed in as fighters were called into the practice cages to spar, and Noah got another turn on the ground a few minutes later. He once again found himself immersed in the thrill of the fight, the distraction of exertion, the rush of competition.
He was up against Billy again, and this time he had no intentions of letting the guy best him, no matter how fatigued he was. They went at it hard, rolling and pushing and clutching, their efforts to grab hold becoming harder, more aggressive. Grunts and curses ripped into the air, and competitiveness gave way to anger and frustration in Noah’s belly when Billy’s glove caught him in the jaw.
