Page 45 of Repairing the Wreckage

He snorts. “Finish this asshole.”

The ref calls us back.

“Watch his feet,” Underhill warns me as I stand.

I jump up and down a few times and shake my head from side to side. My second wind billows through me and I tap my fists together. Ready for war.

The crowd screams as I approach Naptime.

I size him up. How am I going to disguise my takedown? He’s too good to fall for a double leg shot. Let him come at me with some punches, then duck, catch his leg and drag him to the canvas?

I’d like to punch him a few more times. Wear him down before I take him to the floor.

My fist connects with his chest, then his chin. He staggers backward and I keep the pressure on, landing blow after blow.

The roar of the crowd intensifies.

Naptime bobs, weaves, and tries to block my strikes.

Damn, he’s fast with his feet. I lean in for another combination. He dodges and kicks out. Pain slams into the side of my knee. My ass hits the canvas hard, jarring my spine. I pull my legs in and kick, catching Naptime’s thigh.

He slams onto the floor next to me.

Party time.

He rolls and scrambles away.

Oh no you don’t. “Get back here.” I dive for him, sweeping and rolling him to his back. His eyes widen and he kicks and flops away like a fish trying to get back to the river.

The fuck?

Is his ground game that bad?

I trap and isolate his legs and pound him with my fists. Anywhere and everywhere. He defends and blocks, not letting me get close enough to apply arm pressure. I just need an opening to secure a choke and force him to submit.

He squirms and flips.

Perfect. I cover his back and slip my arm right under his chin, tightening and cranking his head to an awkward angle.

The crowd loses it—screaming, stomping feet. I block out the noise and keep applying pressure.

Naptime chokes and burbles but doesn’t give up. He grabs at my arm and pulls. I tighten the choke.

His body stills.

Where’s the fucking ref?

Naptime taps my arm. Once. Twice.

Finally.

Panting hard, I loosen my grip but don’t totally release him. The ref saw Naptime tap out, right? Why isn’t he coming over here? He should’ve pulled us apart by now.

Naptime wriggles out from under me. Pain explodes along my jaw. I raise my arm to block. He elbows me again, this time catching my wrist.

Dirty fucking cheater with the fake tap out.

He never made the third tap. I can’t believe I fell for that.

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