Page 10 of Revive Me

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ROMAN

The next morning, I’m stretching out on the mats when I come to the conclusion:

Lily was wrong. I absolutely remember her.

I grab a nearby tennis ball. With a groan, I begin rolling it under my tight back.

I slept like shit last night. I couldn’t get Lily out of my mind, so I ended up tossing and turning until almost 5 a.m. I kept replaying my hour with her, the way she left, thatkiss?—

Fuck, that kiss.

But ultimately, it’s not the mind-melting kiss that has me distracted this morning. It’s the part that came after it.

Maybe I should’ve gone after her. Iwantedto. But in a way…she was right. Not about me not remembering her—the crick in my neck is proof enough of that. But she was right about cutting things off last night.

My life is insane. Every hour of my day is scheduled, every ounce of my focus is taken; there’s no room for anything, or anyoneelse in it. Beyond a single fun night, I wouldn’t be able to give Lily the time or energy that she deserves.

So then why am I still thinking about her this morning, frustrated by the truth that I’ll never see her again?

“Roman.”

At the sound of my manager’s voice, I turn toward the gym office where he’s standing in the doorway. I know what he’s going to say before he even says it, the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face giving it away.

“You ready to win that title?”

My heart races at the news. I knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud…

“Born ready,” I say firmly.

Instantly, every thought about Lily evaporates. I’ve been working toward this goal for over a decade, which means the title fight is the only thing I can afford to think about.

And just like that, I put everything that isn’t that golden belt out of my mind.

* * *

Four Months Later

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your main event of the evening! Introducing first, fighting out of the red corner, your challenger, Roman Ward!”

I bounce around on the balls of my feet, keeping my body warm and my excitement to a minimum. I’veneverfelt this confident going into a fight. Not just because of this specific opponent, but also because of therightnessof this moment. I was bornto do this, born to own the title of best in the world. I put a decade of work into getting to this point, weathered all the blood, bruises, and trying days. This is the easiest part.

“Alright, Roman, you know what to do,” my striking coach says through the cage. I ignore the announcer’s introduction of the champ and focus on my coach’s voice instead. “Stay at yourrange and light him up with those punches. He’s not going to know what to do at that distance.”

I nod firmly in silent understanding. I’ve been visualizing how this fight is going to go for twelve weeks now. I know the game plan inside and out.

“Fighters, are you ready?”

I nod at the ref, though I never look away from my opponent. He signals with a nod, too.

But he breaks our eye contact as he does it. And then the bell rings. I’m grinning even before I’ve taken a single step forward.

Before he’s even thrown out a single punch, I’m on him. Holding the center of the octagon, I impose my will within the first ten seconds of the fight, moving him whereIwant him to go and throwing out a three-count combo that he’s forced to deflect immediately. I barely give him any room to breathe.

I snap out another combo, and this time, the left hook lands clean on his chin. The crowdroarsat the contact.

“That’s it, Roman, let those hands go!” my corner yells.

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