Page 111 of Meet Me in the Valley
“Good, Tia! Stay consistent. Stay sharp!” Professor Silva’s voice cuts through the haze, steady and commanding from the edge of the mat. My brain is screaming, muscles burning, but I stay focused, pushing through the fatigue to mount my opponent.
His name’s Lucas—Professor Silva’s nephew. A few inches taller than me, lean but solid. Quick, too.
He’s been giving me hell for the past ten minutes, and even though it’s just a roll, it feels like war. Every movement is a test, every grip a challenge.
My adrenaline hasn’t let up, and I’m chasing every last drop of it. Fighting to keep control, to stay sharp, to finish.
Lucas pulls me down, and I land hard in half guard, breath knocking out of my chest. We sound like two bulls—grunting, panting, all pressure and grit.
We shift and grind, both chasing control. Then I catch a glimpse of space—just enough—and I react.
We scramble, spin, and I end up in top position, tightening my hold, smothering his face against my chest to kill his posture and air. He bucks, resists, but I can feel the edge tipping. It’s like I can hear his frustration in the way he moves.
“Good instinct, Tia. Good. Good!” Professor Silva calls from the sidelines, but his voice is far away now, buried under the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
I feel Lucas reach—overextend—and I trap the arm before he can retract. My legs swing up and around. I lock it in.
Armbar.
My neck tightens, muscles cord with strain as I anchor myself to the mat, arching my back, hips in perfect position.
I isolate the joint, feel the control. I don’t need to crank it. I just wait. A little longer …
Tap-tap.
Two quick slaps to my lower back. I release immediately. We collapse side by side, chests heaving. The mental fatigue hits before the physical, but both come crashing in. Lucas chuckles breathlessly as he reaches for my hand and we help each other up.
“You weren’t kidding, Unc,” he pants, readjusting his gi. “Tia’s a helluva opponent.”
Professor Silva beams, placing a proud hand on his nephew’s shoulder.
“Ela é meu orgulho e alegria,”Professor Silva says with a full-toothed smile.
Lucas feigns offense. “I’m your blood, Unc. What am I to you?”
“Você é um pé no saco,”Professor Silva deadpans at his nephew. Lucas barks out a laugh, tossing me my water bottle from the bench.
“What did he say?” My eyes dance with amusement between the two of them, squirting water into my mouth.
“You’re his pride and joy, while I’m a pain in his ass.”
The three of us laugh, and Professor Silva presses a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head before pulling him into a fierce hug. Then makes his way to me, cupping my cheek in the fatherly way he does.
“Excellent work today,filha.I will see you next time.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
He excuses himself, heading to the far side of the gym to help a few younger students, leaving me alone with Lucas.
Earlier, before class, we’d been introduced. I learned he’s only two years older than me, and that after the New Year, he’ll be moving here permanently to help manage the gym alongside his uncle.
“So, Tia,” he says, casual but purposeful, “you know any good places to eat around here that aren’t just wine and cheese?”
I wipe a few stray hairs from my face, and I don’t miss the flirtatious flicker in his eyes as he runs a hand through his thick, dark curls with almost comical ease.
He’s undeniably attractive. Sun-kissed skin that hasn’t known winter in years, and eyes so green they almost glow against his tan.
“Because I’m starving,” he adds with a grin. “Would you want to join me?”
