Page 122 of Hits Different

“I won’t pretend to be an expert in any of this”, Brandon says, from underneath a Basement MMA baseball cap. “But for fucks sakes, at some point, are you planning on hitting him back?”

I must have got punched harder than I thought. I’m hallucinating.

“I’m lulling him into a false sense of security”. I mumble through my mouthguard, “It’s all part of the masterplan”.

“Got it”. Brandon shoots water down my throat. “Very cunning. Zara gave me some feedback to pass on, but it’s very technical. Follow the gameplan. Get him on the mat. Break his fucking arm. Blah blah blah. I thought my advice might be more helpful”.

He presses our foreheads together so I can’t see anywhere but into the deepest blue of his eyes. “I’m your boyfriend. I’m going to be just as in love with you when this is over as I was before it started. You’ve got nothing to prove to anybody. You understand?”

I nod, my throat thick.

“But you trained for this. You’re Parker fucking Di Rossi. There’s not one thing you can’t do. So stop playing it safe. Improvise. Use what you know. He’s not better than you. He’s just bigger and older. It means nothing. Let’s see it”, Brandon leans back. “Something fucking glorious”.

He’s right, kiddo,my dad winks.

I glance over my shoulder to where Zara’s watching us intently. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I saw a glimmer of approval across her face.

There’s no time for that now, because the bell rings for the final round.

Tank is bouncing around. His coach has clearly given him one hell of a pep talk. His fists are tight, so he’s been told to focus on his boxing. His swagger is rich with confidence. He thought he’d taken the best I had to offer and he survived.

I get it. It makes sense. But he’s got no idea what else I’ve got up my sleeve.

I’m ready for the next shin kick. I have to wait another forty-five seconds for it, whilst I try and keep the crowd entertained with my boxing skills. I purposefully drop a step and wait, and he doesn’t disappoint.

I catch his leg and his eyes widen in surprise.I don’t give him a fraction of a second before I yank him to the ground, and start dropping knees on his body, holding him in place like I’m a goddamn vice.

I let him up and he tries to pull me into a clinch but I’m too quick, and toss him over my shoulder, feeling a wave of satisfaction at the cracking sound his back makes when it slams into the canvas. I spin quickly, and he whales legs at me to force some distance.

I take a step back, letting him wear himself out, but he smartly gets to his feet.He remembers my ground game is better than my stand up.

I shoot in for a dive, but he ducks and takes my back and clamps his wrists around my neck, cutting off my airway.

Don’t panic.You know what you’re doing.

If I drop to the floor, it’s only going to improve his position.I crank, pushing us both backwards against the steel wall of the cage, trying to drag his feet off me as they lock in around my abdomen.The crowd are coming alive now. Cheering. Booing, Making a shit ton of noise.

I’m not fucking tapping.I will let him kill me before I give up.

I work feverishly, untying his legs from around me, landing elbow after elbow into his side as the corners of my world threaten to fade to black.

Something pushes its way to the front. Telling me I can do it. That I’m strong enough.

I jostle, forcing my weight in the same direction as his motion, so that he begins to topple. He releases his grip just long enough for me to gasp for air and then turn and use the last of my strength to slam us both to the ground. Right in-front of Julius and Frankie. And Darwin.

Someone unmutes the sound.

We both scramble to our feet, and as he charges in with wild swings, I grunt and slam my hips into his side, setting him up for a perfect throw.

The crowd cheers as he lands hard, but I keep hold of his arm and spin into a perfectly executed armbar. His eyes widen in shock. Frankie is screaming. Julius slaps his palm against the cage.

I lock eyes with Darwin, and pull Tank’s arm as hard as I can.

About a second before it dislocates, he taps out, and the place erupts.

Zara comes racing into the cage, Simon hot on her heels. Archie and Will hoist me onto their shoulders. Simon hugs me. Sheryl’s crying. Jack takes selfies. Everything that’s meant to happen is happening.

From across the cage, I spot Brandon. He’s sat behind Darwin, with a vice-like grip on his shoulder. He’s whispering intently in his ear. Darwin’s staring straight ahead, but his face has paled.

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