Page 95 of A Better Place

I nod my head to the stranger and lift my hands, showing him we’re gonna bout.

“Got it,” he says, coming over next to us.

I put my mouthguard in and lift my hands in front of my face. The second I’m in my stance we start circling each other, not giving Danny a chance to even ready us. I have a feeling this guy isn’t really here for pleasantries anyway.

I’ve done bouts before. But something about this one feels a little… off. Usually neither side is in this perpetually pissed off state, but this guy’s aggression is coming off him in waves.

“You ready for this, pussy boy?” he provokes.

I briefly look over at Danny and notice he looks just as bewildered as I am.

I take on a defensive stance as we both bounce on our toes, adrenaline pumping through my body. I jut out my right arm, taking a light swing at him, testing, feeling it out. He does the same, but makes contact with my shoulder.

He smirks, making his already hostile demeanor look even more so.

I shrug off the hit — not that it really hurt — but it pisses me off he got first contact. I don’t know why, but this guy’s presence annoys the hell out of me.

He nods his head, and waves his hands at himself, taunting me, asking for me to come at him.

That’s how he wants it?

I take a step forward and swing, taking him by surprise, hitting him square in jaw. He grunts as his head jerks to the side, a little bit of blood trickling out the corner of his mouth. For some reason, a sick sense of satisfaction comes over me.

He reaches out, swinging in my direction again.

For every antagonizing swing at me, I match it.

He strikes hard, hitting me in the cheek, and I hit back, punching him square in his nose.

I lift my leg and kick, hitting his left thigh, bringing him to his knee. He glares up at me, and I shrug my shoulder, hardly apologetic to an asshole who came in here with a giant chip on his shoulder asking for a fight.

I lift my hands up, taunting him just as he did to me. He sniffs and spits out some blood onto the floor.

He grunts as if to say, “That all you got?”

It’s not. I can give this guy way more, especially with visions of Carly’s ex floating through my mind.

For the next several minutes we go at it, punching, jabbing, kicking… Each hit is met with another. I take one more left hook, hitting him hard enough to make him stumble backward. I may have never done MMA or boxing professionally, but I’ve been in the ring a time or two. Nothing he throws at me is surprising. It’s almost like he grabbed an MMA textbook and is just going through the motions. But his hostility, his anger, is palpable. I can feel it in every hit. We’re both panting, breathing heavily, gasping in whatever air we can get, but neither of us is willing to back down.

I glance over at Danny again, who’s standing in the corner watching with a curious eye, looking like he’s about ready to call the match quits. I shake my head lightly, knowing this guy… this random guy who walked into Tate’s gym less than thirty minutes ago… won’t stop. Not until he’s ready.

My brief look away from him gives him the advantage he needs, and he comes at me with his shoulder to my gut, knocking me off my feet. He starts swinging at my face the second I’m on the ground, but I hook a leg around him, spin us, and pin him to the mat. I twist and get him into an armbar hold, a move I can tell he wasn’t expecting and obviously has no clue how to get out of.

Before he can tap himself out, I push away from him and stand up. I lean against the corner post, leaving him on the ring floor, panting for air.

I spit out my mouthpiece into my hand as Danny walks over and helps me remove my gloves. “What the hell, man? Nice to meet you, too.”

I shake my head and take the water bottle Danny is offering.

“Dude. Who the hell are you?” Danny asks.

“None of your fucking business,” he growls.

“Alright. Well, seeing as you’re not a member here, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Danny stands with his arms over his chest while I wipe my face with a towel. I look over at the stranger and see he looks pretty beat-up. A sense of pride fills my chest, knowing I could take on this piece of crap.

He bends over and grabs a towel from the floor. He throws an angry look my way then walks toward the locker room.

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