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He nods, punching his gloves together, and steps into the middle of the ring to join the ref and Vasiliev.
I tune out everything but Ethan’s opponent, studying him. His facial expression and the way he carries himself screams cocky and aggressive. The arrogance we can deal with, but the aggressiveness worries me. Lawrence said Ethan didn’t do well against that kind of competitor last time.
My gaze flicks to Vasiliev’s cornerman, a middle-aged man I recognize from tournaments before, though I don’t know his name. His ears are all torn up, indicating he was a former pro boxer, meaning he must have a fair amount of experience. That doesn’t bode well for Ethan, either.
The ref starts the first round and Vasiliev immediately comes in aggressive like I suspected he would, jabbing Ethan in the face. His act of intimidation works, throwing Ethan off-kilter.
Ethan goes into defensive mode, backing up as his opponent approaches again, rattling him.
“Counter him,” I shout, praying Ethan hears me. “Get away from the corner.”
He snaps out of it, maneuvering to the middle of the ring, and throws his first punch of the fight, which is easily blocked by Vasiliev. He jabs again, and Vasiliev finally stops advancing on him as he keeps the jabs coming, pressuring him.
“Good,” I yell. “Foot on the outside.” He needs all the leverage he can get.
Vasiliev throws a left hook and this time Ethan counters like he’s supposed to, making him retreat even more. Ethan’s never been this aggressive in the ring, but it serves him well here.
His opponent realizes what he’s doing, though, and plants himself, refusing to move back any further. The two trade blows but nothing connects, both skillfully dodging each others punches. They’re at a standstill, something needing to change in order for the fight to advance.
“Slip under and circle around,” I yell out.
Ethan thankfully hears me and does what I say at the next opportunity as Vasiliev throws a right. He retaliates with a left, the two switching dominant sides for a moment, and Vasiliev ducks to avoid the punch.
Ethan anticipates the dodge and easily recovers, slipping to the left until he’s almost behind his opponent. Vasiliev comes out of his duck, not realizing Ethan’s there, and Ethan uses the opportunity to throw a right uppercut, connecting with his jaw.
Vasiliev backs off, his dander up now, and steadies himself before coming forward and going on the attack. He takes a reckless chance leaving himself exposed, but it pays off as Ethan is caught off guard, and he lands a one-two blow that has Ethan retreating.
The fight continues for the rest of the round this way, each gaining the advantage, only to lose it as the other person retaliates. I shout out a reminder to Ethan to keep his guard up when his hands slip too low from a defensive position, and continue to study Vasiliev for weaknesses. Ethan needs every ounce of strategy I can give him during the break between rounds.
Things are still at a stalemate as the clock ticks down close to ten seconds. He has to do something soon.
“Go big,” I yell, knowing it doesn’t matter how exposed he leaves himself with so little time left.
Ethan rains down blows and jumps back as the bell rings before Vasiliev can retaliate.
Fuck, yeah. That’s how you end a round.
I slip through the ropes and set down a stool for Ethan, taking his mouthguard out so he can talk. “Focus on relaxing for the next minute. You’re doing a hell of a job out there.”
He nods and I towel off his face, then hold an ice pack to the back of his neck to cool him off.
“Fuck, that feels good.” He lets out a long sigh. “This guy’s an animal.”
“You are, too. And I’ve got some tips for you.”
“Good.”
“First thing—when he throws his right, he doesn’t keep his left close enough to his face to block. He hasn’t thrown rights that often, but be aware of that so you can land some hits.”
“What else?”
“When you throw your right hooks, he leans back too far to avoid it, leaving his torso exposed. Aim low to take advantage of that.”
We go over a few other things I noticed until it’s time for him to head in again. I grab my stuff and get out of there, watching him, but there’s this tingle on the nape of my neck.
I look out into the crowd and there Tessa is, sitting next to Lexie. She waves at me as I catch her eye and my heart gives a squeeze, caught up in the mixture of hope and concern on her face, apparent even from this distance.
I turn away, not wanting to get distracted, but the urge to glance back at her is incredibly strong.
