Then the locker room door swings open, and everything immediately goes to shit when Ford and Ava walk in. My stomach does some weird fucking twist at the sight of her, like my body’s trying to turn itself inside out. She’s smiling, tipsy and warm from the alcohol, chestnut hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.
“I bet on you,” she announces, the look she gives me hitting like a punch I wasn’t ready for. “So you better not lose.”
“Or maybe I’ll throw the match just so you do,” I growl, glaring back at her.
Ford barks a laugh, leaning a shoulder against the wall as he digs in his pocket for his cigarettes. “Christ, can you two just fuck already and put us all out of our misery?”
“Out,” I snap, stabbing a finger in the direction of the door.
Ford rolls his eyes, heaving a sigh as he pushes off from the wall. “C’mon, Ava baby,” he drawls, hooking an arm around hershoulders and guiding her back toward the exit. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, it’s not your fault that you’re his kryptonite.”
I glare daggers at him, all the fury I just worked so hard to contain rapidly building again as he drags her through the door. The second it swings closed behind them, I snap my gaze to Wes, silently giving him the same directive.
“You’re on in ten minutes,” he warns, giving me a pointed look before turning to follow the others, leaving me alone in the locker room.
I turn and punch the door of a locker, metal vibrating against my knuckles.How the fuck did we get here?Making Ava our Doll was supposed to be just a means to an end, and now I’m the one all twisted up while my friends are having a fucking field day with it, toting her around like she’s actually part of all this.
I feel my pulse ticking underneath my skin as I start pacing back and forth, Ava’s presence still lingering with me like a cloying perfume. I don’t even want her, yet she’s in my veins like a damn virus, slowly dismantling me from the inside out. I draw deep breaths as I flex my fists, clenching, releasing, focusing on my body, on the distant roar of the crowd in the warehouse.
Time to bleed out some shadows.
Time to get this shit out of my system.
The sound of the crowd outside rises and falls like a taunt while I force myself to breathe, deep and slow. I focus on the fight, on my opponent, on anything buther.
But every time I push her away, she’s right back in the middle of my head. She’s fuckingeverywhere. I need to get out there, lose myself in the ring, beat the shit out of something before I implode.
My song comes on, signaling that it’s finally time. I roll my shoulders as I push out of the locker room to screams and chants, the noise hitting me like a wall. It’s like swimming through chaos, but I keep moving forward, focusing on the ringup ahead. My vision tunnels, narrowing to where I need to be. Each step away toward it loosens something tight in my chest.
Wes and Ford are waiting by my corner of the ring like always, butof fucking courseshe’s with them. They suddenly have this easy relationship with her, and I’m just on the outside looking in, relegated to watching from the shadows as they touch and laugh and flirt with one another. I try to block it all out, focus on the matchup, on the brute pacing on the other side. Chaz is built like a linebacker, but I’ve taken down guys twice his size before. As long as I can stay in the zone, I’ve got this.
I climb into the ring, the ropes groaning beneath my grip as I duck between them. The mat gives under my feet, a cheap, bloodstained surface that reeks of stale beer and cigarette smoke. I start to pace, trying to lock in, trying to center. It’s always been about focus. About shutting out everything that isn’t fists and footwork. But tonight, I’m off.Way off.
My muscles are tight, the roar in my brain louder than the crowd.
I glance across the ring, and Ava’s looking right at me, brown eyes wide and shiny under the bright lights. The bell sounds, snapping through the noise like a shot.
Chaz comes at me fast, fists already cocked like he’s aiming to end this quick. I manage to dodge his first punch, then the second, but it’s not smooth. Not instinctive. I’m out of rhythm.
I hear Wes barking from my corner. Ford’s voice cuts through too, sharp and angry. Everyone’s shouting, but none of it breaches the static in my skull. I look over, see Ava again. Her eyes follow me, wide and wild. Chaz’s fist crashes into my cheek.
It’s a clean shot. My jaw snaps sideways, pain spiking through my skull, but I don’t go down. I stagger, tasting the metallic tang of blood as it coats my tongue. My vision swims as I try to dig in and reset, try to breathe. But any semblance ofcontrol I had when I stepped into the ring is slipping through my fingers fast.
Another punch lands, and I stumble back into the ropes, arms tangling, the crowd roaring in my ears.
Get up. Focus.
I shove off and find my footing, but the mat doesn’t even feel real beneath my feet anymore. Nothing does. Ava’s still there, still watching, and itfuckswith me. She’s always there, in every shadow of my mind, and now she’s real and close and right fuckingthere, watching me unravel in spectacular fashion.
Another swing from Chaz. I duck, just barely, and the bell rings again, saving me from myself.
Round over.Thank fuck.
I stagger back to the corner, chest heaving with exertion. Wes throws the stool out for me and I collapse onto it, shadows pressing in at the edges of my vision as I try to catch my breath. My lungs burn, my pulse a drumline in my ears.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Wes yells, slamming a water bottle into my hand and splashing more on my face.
I tip it back and take a long drink, but it doesn’t help. Because the real fight tonight isn’t in the ring. It’s in my goddamn head.
