Page 16 of Punchline
“Too light on your feet,” he taunted good-naturedly, slurring the words around his mouthguard. I didn’t reply, just waited for him to try another crush—it seemed like a technique that worked for him. Sure enough, he leaned forward, and that was my cue to shovel into coyote half, then deep half.
Deep half guard meant, basically, letting Bubba sit on me while I was sideways underneath him, with my whole body keeping one of his legs extended all the way out. It was a risky place to be with a guy this big, but it took away his ability to use his upper half effectively. He tried to put his knee on the ground and backstep, but I yanked his leg as straight as I could. When he went to pass my head, I ducked under his beefy ass—which was no treat, but at least he wasn’t sweating too badly yet—and took his back.
He proceeded to smash me flat onto my back and take almost all the sting out of my attempt at a choke. It took way too long to get out from under him, and by the time I did I only had a minute left in the round. It was time to be more direct. I got Bubba down on his back, hooked my far arm beneath his to keep his chest down, then brought my hipsup high and began to slowly, inexorably, choke the ever-living shit out of him while balancing most of my weight on his upper ribcage. He held out without tapping, but when the buzzer went off his face was bright red, and he was panting for air when I let go.
“Goddamn,” he wheezed, looking at me with appreciation. “It’s been a while since somebody managed to out-pressure me. You know how to throw those pounds around, don’t you?” He grabbed my arm and gave it a squeeze. “Big enough to give me a run for my money!”
And… fuck.Fuck, but just hearing it from someone who was bigger than me was enough to put me back into a headspace I thought I’d conquered years ago.
I made it two more rounds before I had to beg off from the rest of open mat. I dressed hurriedly and slipped out the back door before Beth or Carson could ask me any questions. I wanted to drive back to my apartment, turn on the shower, and sit in it until my skin stopped itching… or I drowned, one or the other. Instead I sat down in the front seat of my truck, pulled my phone out, and stared at it for a long few minutes before I finally called my psychiatrist.
I needed an emergency session.
Two hours and one “you talked me down from the ledge of a full-blown descent back into body dysmorphia but I’m not good yet” discussion, and I was indulging in the kind of self-care that I never used unless I was having one of these moments. I made my rooms as cold as I could stand, so that it felt natural to bundle up in oversized blankets. I shrugged into clothes two sizes too big, got out my largest mug and filled it to the brim with my favorite tea, and curled up on my couch to watch something mindless.
I ended up settling on hockey. I still had next to no idea how the game was played or what constituted a formalpenalty vs someone just being a mean player, but that was fine. I could watch it and zone out, sip tea and snuggle into a ball and not focus on the fact that I’d come close to diving back down a rabbit hole that had almost given me an eating disorder when I was a teenager.
My twin sister and I almost never saw eye to eye, but the one way we never gave each other shit was when it came to body image. The two of us had matured quicker and gotten bigger than any of the other kids in grade school. I knew it had been objectively harder on her, what with puberty hitting when she was ten and already as tall as our fifth-grade teacher, but it still wasn’t nice to be singled out as the biggest boy in the entire school. It was the same all the way up through senior year, only by then all the coaches wanted me for their teams. I’d gotten my mind stuck on a loop between bulking up and cutting, bulking and cutting—to the point where I never felt like I looked right.
Getting counseling had helped. Going away to college had helped even more. But I still backslid sometimes, more since I’d fucked up Carson so badly.
He texted me at ten that night.You okay?
Fine, except for my head.Carson knew enough to understand what I wasn’t explicitly saying.
Want me to come over?
Usually I’d say yes, but I happened to know that Marek had just gotten back from a week on the road. The hell I was getting in the way of that.Nah, its fine.I thought about that for a second.Actually I need to take tomorrow off. Can you cover my class?
Sure. What about Ethan tho?
Oh shit, I had a private lesson with Ethan tomorrow evening. I didn’t want to be flaky, especially so early in our… whatever it was we were doing, but I also knew I was going tobe incredibly self-conscious for at least another day. I couldn’t stand the thought of Ethan having to touch me when I didn’t even want to touch myself.
Nvm, I got it.
Damn it.Tell him I’ll make it up to him.
Tell him urself!
I smiled a little as I tapped outText like an adult.
U txt like an adult.Then he sent a series of emojis which didn’t make any sense, then my phone stopped buzzing.
It was a relief, but he was also right. I needed to man up and let Ethan know I’d be out tomorrow. I didn’t want to lie about why, though. I’d just… keep things vague.
Hey.Easy enough beginning.I’m not going to be able to meet with you tomorrow. I’m…
As big as a barn. Heavy as a horse. Like Frankenstein’s monster.
Not feeling well. Carson will work with you instead. See you next Tuesday.
Due diligence done, I put my phone on silent and curled up a little tighter. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. Tea would be enough for tonight. Tomorrow I’d eat better, though. If I couldn’t, then I’d call my doctor again.
I sighed and closed my eyes. Tomorrow would be better.
CHAPTER 7
ETHAN
