Page 12 of Heartbreaker
My phone rings inside my bag, and I search blindly until I find it. I answer without looking because I have two guesses: Mamá or Nash. My father would wait until I called him, and Crew would wait until at least Saturday.
“How was it?” My second-oldest brother’s voice rings out over the speaker. “Was it amazing? Was it terrible? Was it—”
“Nash, breathe,” I say, finally pushing up from the counter and taking a deep breath myself. Guiding my arms over my head, I swear I can feel the rush of tingling lactic acid through my muscles, leaving a simmering fire in its wake.
“Okay, but how was it?” Nash pushes. “Did you meet anyone? What did you do? Do you like it?”
I laugh, opening the fridge to take inventory of its contents before pulling out only a water bottle. I’ll figure out food after I take a much-needed shower—hell, maybe even a hot bath.
“It was great. I worked with Fata and Juliet. We just started with basic bumps, easy takedowns, running the ropes…stuff like that,” I say. It’s not the answer he’s looking for, but I don’t have the energy to detail my entire day for him.
I now knew this was something you had to experience to understand. I knew it would be a different kind of physicality, but I thought all of my experience in cheer would lend some favor…
I was wrong.
Twenty laps around the building—including the entirety of the exterior, back inside around the “ring room” (as I had so eloquently named it), and up and down the various steps of the television room—had been a cakewalk compared to the rest. I lost count of the number of squats somewhere around two hundred and fifty.
Two more trainers joined somewhere between laps ten and eleven: “The All American” Sheldon Goodwin, another EWE veteran I recognized almost instantly, and Jack Cameron, head trainer at the facility. They were working with the more experienced wrestlers—the ones who would be moving up to the main roster soon.
Once we finally got into the ring to start on the basics—like bumps, takedowns, roll-throughs, and rope running—Juliet observed from the outside, while Fata joined us inside, offering more hands-on guidance.
Nash all but screams into the phone. “You trained withFata?”
“Here we go.” I chuckle, shaking my head. I plant my hands on the island and take two steps to stretch out my back. I knew this would happen as soon as I told him.
“I can’t believe you metFata, likethe Fata! What was he like? Is he as big as he looks? Is he nice?”
“Bigger,” I say, followed by a beat of silence. I consider telling him that I need to go so I can get ready for round two tomorrow, but he beats me to it.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which one?” I ask, standing up straight.
“Do you like it?”
Do I like it? I sit back against the edge of the counter and take a long sip of water. It’s different than what I imagined it would be, but with every challenge they threw at me today, I felt the desire to not only face it but to overcome it tenfold. To prove to them—and the more experienced trainees—that just because I had “traded in my pom-poms for wrestling boots” didn’t mean I couldn’t hold my own.
Do I like it? Despite feeling completely and utterly drained, I’ve never felt more alive. The moment I stepped foot in that ring today, the same rush I felt during tryouts filled my veins, and I knew that no matter what happened, this was where I was meant to be.
Do I like it? A smile creeps its way into the corners of my lips, and I nod.
“Yeah…Yeah, I like it.”
“I’m proud of you, SJ.” The words wrap around me with a tight squeeze in the way I imagine my brother’s arms would if he were standing next to me. Warmth coats my eyes, and I clear my throat, trying to keep the fresh round of tears at bay. “You’re going to be the best fucking wrestler to ever step foot in that ring.”
A tearful laugh crawls out of my throat. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. We all do. You are the kind of person who has to be the best at whatever you do; I mean, look at your track record. You were the youngest person to join the Wildcats. You earned a scholarship to Thornebrooke for cheerleading—that’s unheard of! You—”
“Yes, Nash, okay. I get the point.”
“Besides, you’re training with Fata and Juliet, two of the greats. If anyone can turn you into a professional wrestler, it’s them.”
The fluorescent lights flicker to life as Raelynn, Bennett, and I walk into the training center on this beautiful Friday the thirteenth. The weather is perfect, and I only wish we weren’t working today so we could go to the beach before the city is overrun by spring breakers next week. Today marks two and a half weeks since I first walked through these doors, and I’ve continued to fall in love with this sport every day since. Rae and I were surprised when Bennett pulled into the parking lot seconds after we did. He’s usually racing through the door seconds before we’re supposed to be here. Even Juliet asked him if he was feeling okay when we met her at the door. He rolled his eyes, not answering, and held the door for the three of us to walk inside. Raelynn had introduced me to Bennett on my second day, and maybe it was because he reminded me so much of my brothers—specifically Nash—but we had an instant connection. The three of us have been almost inseparable since. We hang out together on our off days, work out together, and help each other practice.
Bennett James, nicknamed Wolf from his high school football days, has been part of NextGen for almost two years, and from the reaction he got two weeks ago during the live show, I think it’s safe to say he’s a crowd favorite. NextGen hosts live shows every other week, giving fans the chance to see some of the new talent. Curious to see some of my more experienced colleagues, I snuck in to watch, and I was pleasantly surprised by the number of fans who showed up. The place was packed. Not an empty seat in the house. It was electric inside that room. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and it only made me want to know how it felt to be on the other side even more. After what I saw that night, I don’t think it will be much longer before Bennett gets called up to the main roster, despite his hesitations.
My only grievance with him is his taste in women. He’s infatuated with Harper Valentine, the one person I cannot stand here. Raelynn and I have a theory that it’s because she reminds him of his ex-girlfriend, but Bennett vehemently denies it. We brought it up once, the same night we saw the picture of his high school sweetheart, who dumped him when he dropped out of college to pursue his true passion—wrestling. They had been together for five years, and she dropped him like a hot cake, too quick for someone who had been talking about rings and houses two months before.
