Page 21 of Win You Over
Acool breeze sweeps through the abandoned warehouse, the smell of the ocean mixed with the scent of sweat and something rancid, like rotting meat, probably soaked into the floors of what was once a thriving meat market. Outside it's drizzling, and after having refused the offer of a lift here with Remington, instead taking the bus and walking with Theo, my hair and clothing are both damp – a mix of rain and sweat from my first fight of the night.
In the ring opposite me, Remington grins, his lips parting to show off the blue of his gum shield. His chest glistens beneath the fluorescent lights as he bounces on his heels, sweat trickling down his abs. Not for the first time in the past week, I find myselfstaring at his body, my heartbeat ringing in my ears the entire time my eyes are locked on him.
I’ve always thought I was straight. More because it’s what I thought people expected me to be rather than a belief I truly had in myself. If I’m honest, I don’t really know that part of myself or what it means to be with someone, regardless of their gender or sexuality. Too much of what is required to be in a relationship – intimacy, vulnerability, trust – scares me. Can I be straight and still admire his body? Like the way his abs curve under smooth golden skin, dipping into deep grooves at the waistband of his athletic shorts? Or the way my skin breaks out in goosebumps when he leans in while we’re working on something together? I think so. I think it’s human nature to admire beautiful things and Remington Langford is without a doubt, beautiful. Conceited, but beautiful nonetheless.
My attention is snapped away from my wayward thoughts when the ring announcer steps into the ring with us, goes through the usual spiel, and directs us to knock fists and start fighting.
The first few seconds go by with very little contact – both of us sidestep the other with near perfect precision.
We both want this win, possibly more than we’ve ever wanted it before. There’s this niggling in the back of my mind that says I was a fool for taking his bet. Theo’s lack of confidence tonight hasn’t helped, but I am, as I always have been, determined not to back down. Even kings topple. It’s only a matter of time and persistence before that day comes.
Remington pounces forward, like a cat on the attack, and I block his advance with a jab to his jaw that has him shaking his head but not retreating. Instead, he moves forward again, arms raised as he punches out at me before delivering a roundhouse kick that connects solidly with my hip.
He’s fighting hard tonight, his determination to win fuelling him, but I’m fighting harder. In this ill advised bet, I stand to lose so much more than he does. Not only would I miss out on the lump sum he put on the table, but my defeat will have me stuck in his company, in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, for two very long weeks.
I cannot afford to lose.
The impact of Remington’s kick causes me to stagger, my body so high on adrenaline and the sheer will to take him down that I don’t feel any pain. He advances on me again, and I move out of his path before jolting my body forward. He lifts his arms in defence, but I duck down, delivering a series of punches to his stomach. Behind the buzzing in my ears, I hear the crowd boo as I get my arms around him and sweep my leg behind his knee, bringing him down to the ground with me.
Remington hits the mat at our feet, releasing a puff of breath that brushes my cheek as I collapse on top of him. Using my lower body, I cage him to the ground while my upper body pulls up, my arms raised, ready to rain down and finish the fight.
This is it. This ismymoment.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, Remington’s foot latches around mine and I have a fleeting second to regret my positioning as he bucks his hips, rolling us both until he’s on top of me, his frame pressing me down to the ground. He anchors us both to the mat with his hips, then sits up and lands a few blows to my left side.
My mind screams at me to fight back and I lift my arms, but as I do, Remington stretches his body over mine, grabs my wrists, and pins them to the floor above my head. The feel of his hands on me is familiar in a way that cools me to the core. It’s a whisper of a feeling I’ve worked for years to bury. Inside me, something snaps, the flood walls holding back the reminders of my past shatter, leaving me bare, raw, vulnerable.
Not my wrists, please no, no no,my mind screams as he squeezes tighter.Please let me go.Memories flash by in super speed. Laughing, jeering faces that have my stomach sinking and the fight bleeding from my body – gone as quickly as smoke fading into nothing.
I’m no longer in the ring with Remington. I’m in the forest again, the hard ground digging into my back, a cool breeze wafting against my exposed chest as I silently cry. A scared little boy with no way out.
Something flashes in Remington’s eyes and they soften at the same time his grip on me loosens, and he lifts his hands, palms open, as if to show me he’s not a threat. Slamming my eyes shut, I breathe through the panic, reminding myself that I’m not back there. I’m here, in a dingy basement, in Maine. Safe. I’m safe. Only when I feel Remington’s body lift off of me, do I open my eyes.
Still on my back, my hands now balled into fists against my aching chest, the ring announcer looks between the two of us, then takes Remington’s arms, lifts them and declares him the winner.
The crowd goes wild, Finn jumping in to pat Remington on the back and hand him a towel. Remington doesn’t take his eyes off of me as I pull myself up and retreat to the edge of the ring where Theo is waiting.
“You okay, Hold?” he asks. “What happened out there?” I shake my head, and take the bottle of water he offers.
My eyes meet Remington’s again and I’m hit with a wave of embarrassment, my already heated body burning hotter all the way to the tips of my ears. I duck my head to break our stare. Remington is not just looking at me, he’sreadingme,assessingme, and I think he sees all my broken, scarred pieces.
And that is far worse than losing the fight and his bet.
“Here.”
I startle at the voice behind me, frantically zipping up my jeans from where I was taking a leak in the alleyway outside the warehouse. Theo is still inside, talking to someone he knows from the cafe, and I’ve taken myself off to nurse my wounds alone. The alleyway is quiet and deserted and though it smells like piss and rotten food, it’s the solace I need.
I turn around to find Remington, his bright blond hair sticking up on all ends, one hand in the pocket of his grey hoodie and the other held out towards me, holding a thick brown envelope. A purple bruise is forming where I got him on the jaw and while there is some satisfaction in that, shame and disappointment override all other feelings coursing in my blood.
“Take this.” He thrusts the envelope at me. Looking down at it, I shake my head.
“It’s all the money I’ve won this year. It’s yours,” he says. My eyes meet his and I wish I hadn’t met his gaze because gone is the cocky, arrogant Remington. Replaced with the most human version of him I’ve ever seen, empathy and compassion burning brightly in his ocean blue eyes.
Looking over my shoulder and then over his, checking we’re still alone, I shake my head again.
In the warehouse, someone has turned on loud, thumping music and it floats out the windows and into the night air, the beat matching the rapid racing of my heart.
“I…” I hesitate and clear my throat, my heart rate spiking as I look at the envelope and then back at Remington. “I didn’t win.” My voice sticks in my throat, the words coming out fracturedand far too quiet. Taking a step closer, Remington pushes the envelope to my chest, his hand holding it against me.
