Rough Around the Edges (18 page)

They watched several more matches together, mostly in silence until Cameron approached, talking a mile a minute as usual.

“Don’t forget your mouthguard,” Ally said as Cameron rambled on, encouraging Ryan to get out of his hoodie and into his gloves.

“Got it,” he said, showing her the piece of equipment he’d been carrying in his hoodie’s pocket.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked as he lingered despite Cameron’s urging.

“For you to kiss me for good luck,” he said, flashing her a grin. Her sweet mouth against his was exactly what he wanted to feel before he entered the ring.

She leaned in, placing a hand against his chest. “I’d do a lot more than kiss you if I thought it would affect the outcome of the fight.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and try anyway? You never know.”

She smiled, her full lips curving, not far from his. “We have a plan, remember? After the fight we go to your place and I spend the night.”

“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.” Thoughts of this night – the fight and then going out with Ally – had dominated his mind all day. All week, really. Fighting strangers and loving her – his mind had adjusted quickly to revolving around those two things, the highlights of his existence.

“Just a kiss.” She rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed one against his lips. It was relatively chaste – probably because Cameron was close too, practically breathing down their necks – but he savored it nonetheless. “The sooner this fight is over, the sooner we can do more.”

His heart rate sped up a notch, and not just because he was about to go head-to-head with someone who’d never been beaten. “I won’t fuck around with Ivanov. Not when I could be doing that with—”

“Cameron, you’re breathing down my neck,” she interrupted, more loudly than necessary.

He grinned as she shot Cameron an exasperated look. “What are you doing?”

“Hydration is important,” Cameron said, donning an equally exasperated expression.

“He already has a bottle of water.” Still, she accepted the fresh one Cameron had brought. “I’ll save this for when the first round is over.”

Ryan pulled his hoodie over his head, stripping down to his fight shorts.

“Come on,” Cameron said seconds later, “you’re up.”

He popped the guard into his mouth and pulled on his gloves. Before he entered the ring, he took one final look at Ally. The heat of her good luck kiss still lingered on his lips.

The moments before the fight began seemed to take forever. The ring girl did her thing – he could tell by the catcalls that rose from the crowd – but he didn’t really see her. All his attention was on Ivanov. The guy was a little taller than he was, about his size. Dark eyes and a shadow of dark hair over a recently-shaved head. His square-jawed face was the face of an undefeated fighter, apparently.

That was about to change. Ryan couldn’t afford to lose – not with Ally watching and worrying over him. He’d show her what he was capable of; he’d beat Ivanov. He was ready, physically and mentally. He’d cast off all his other cares when he’d stepped into the cage and his nerves were buzzing like live wires, alight with energy.

When the match started, Ivanov was the first to strike. He threw a jab and missed, then followed it up with a punch that clipped Ryan’s ribs, a glancing blow. The contact spurred him on as he threw a punch of his own, a left hook that didn’t quite land where he’d intended, but still hit the top of Ivanov’s head.

Ivanov seemed surprised by the hit, even if it hadn’t been as hard as it could’ve been. Maybe he hadn’t fought many left-handed fighters.

Or maybe he had. He dodged the next blow, leaving Ryan’s fist to sail through empty space.

Back and forth, they traded punches for a while, until Ivanov threw in a knee.

Ivanov had just taken a hard punch to the jaw, so the knee wasn’t as brutal as it could’ve been. There was no denying the force of it though when it hit Ryan’s ribs, sending the air rushing out of his lungs as he doubled over.

Still, the blow didn’t knock him down. He straightened in time to take Ivanov by surprise, throwing his arms around the man’s body and using his hip to take him to the mat.

His ribs twinged in protest as he went down too, clinging tightly to Ivanov. He ignored the pain and focused instead on the fact that he had Ivanov’s back – if he pulled something off fast enough and well enough, the match would be over within seconds.

He snaked an arm around Ivanov’s neck and pulled it in tight, his arm against the other man’s throat. He could feel the tension building in Ivanov’s body as air and blood stopped flowing to his head. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer – he’d either tap out or pass out.

When a timer sounded, it set off a slew of curses inside Ryan’s head. The round was over; he’d come within a hairsbreadth of forcing Ivanov to submit but hadn’t pulled it off in time. He released the other man from the chokehold and rose, his side throbbing where he’d been kneed.

Cameron was there for him when he retreated to one side of the cage, opposite the one Ivanov headed to. He accepted the water the other man offered him and nodded at the advice he was given, though half of Cameron’s words seemed to roll off of him just like sweat was rolling down his face and back.

There wasn’t much of a break between rounds, but he stole a moment to look at Ally before facing Ivanov again. She was there, near the cageside, incredibly beautiful. A bead of sweat slid into his eye but he didn’t wipe it away – he only had a second to look at her and he wouldn’t waste it.

She smiled, but he could see the tension in the way she sat, the way her eyes searched his body for signs of damage instead of holding his gaze for more than a split second.

The ring girl made another round before Ryan and Ivanov went at it again.

Ivanov was more aggressive this time and threw a hard kick at Ryan as soon as the timer sounded.

He dodged it and parried, preserving his ribs from serious damage.

Ryan landed the first blow, a punch that met Ivanov’s jaw perfectly. Seconds later, he had him backed against the side of the cage. He took advantage of having the upper hand – a situation that was always potentially fleeting – by hitting hard, fitting in as many punches as he could without sacrificing power.

Ivanov hit back, fitting in the occasional punch here and there, but mostly taking blows.

Ryan hit harder, took a few punches to the torso and one that glanced off his chin, jarring him a little. Still, it wasn’t until Ivanov landed a lucky elbow that he was forced to relent.

There was the immediate shock of being laid into by the hard point of bone, and then there was the hot gush of blood from his nose, like water from a faucet. It rained on the mat but didn’t deter Ivanov, who moved in close enough to throw Ryan to the mat.

Ryan didn’t stop bleeding and he sure as hell didn’t stop fighting. Finishing the match on the ground would be messy, but he wasn’t going to let Ivanov beat him. He rolled, struggling for dominance.

Eventually he ended up in an ankle lock, but Ivanov didn’t have the hold tight enough to bring it to fruition. He almost did, but not quite. Ryan withstood the strain and made Ivanov fight to maintain the hold.

It was the timer that saved him. This time, it was a relief when it went off, signaling the end of the match.

Ryan pulled his leg from Ivanov’s loosened hold and stood, the joint throbbing with relief.

When he retreated to his side of the ring, Cameron thrust a towel at him. He took it and pressed it to his face, letting it absorb the hot, sticky mixture of blood and sweat that had accumulated there.

He lowered the towel and met Ally’s eyes before taking a drink of water. She was just as refreshing; the sight of her face reminded him that the night wouldn’t be over after the fight. It also reminded him why he couldn’t lose.

Round three. It would be the last round no matter how it ended.

Ryan landed the first punch. He took a few, too, but managed to back Ivanov against the side of the cage again, pummeling him with strikes designed to keep him there and wear him down.

It worked. Six, seven, eight punches and Ivanov was out, knocked unconscious by a straight to the face. He slid down the chain-link, crumpling at Ryan’s feet.

A rush of mingled satisfaction and relief coursed through Ryan as he unclenched his fists, raising one into the air. He was covered in sweat and blood, but inside he was glowing. He faced the roaring crowd, where Ally waited. The exhilaration rushing through his veins was so strong that at first, he almost didn’t notice the silver lights lingering in the range of his peripheral vision.

Ally was out of her seat, already making her way toward him. The crowd was loud and Cameron had rushed to his side, but her gaze held him spellbound.

“You did great,” she said as he descended from the cage to meet her. “How does your face feel?”

Up close, it was obvious that her face wasn’t flushed just with the thrill of seeing him win, but with relief.

“Wet. I’m going to shower. Then we can get out of here.” His lips felt thicker than usual as he spoke.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

The sound of the crowd was dulled as soon as he stepped into the locker room, where fluorescent lighting and looming lockers cast stripes of light and shadow. Inside, he removed his gloves and stripped out of what little clothing he was wearing. The bloodstains on his shorts would be a bitch to get out, but it didn’t matter – he’d won.

He took a lukewarm shower, scrubbing the filth of the fight from his skin. The steady flow of water helped to regulate his body temperature and slow his flying thoughts. As the liquid rushed around his feet, sweeping red-tinted soap bubbles down the drain, he became aware of things the high of victory had kept him from noticing, like the dull pressure inside his skull. It was no surprise, given the lights that were plaguing him.

But things weren’t bad. Not yet. If he headed the situation off with medication, it might not even turn into a full-blown migraine. At least, hopefully it wouldn’t, because he had plans for his night with Ally and he’d be damned if anything was going to stop them. He’d been thinking about what he’d do with and to her after his victory for too long – he’d fight to carry out his plans as hard as he’d fought in the ring.

After his monumental fuck-up that had led to his and Ally’s first night together, he’d had the foresight to put a bottle of migraine pills in his gym bag. Dripping wet and naked except for a towel slung half-heartedly around his hips, he dug the container out of the duffel bag he’d left on the bench and took two, swallowing them dry.

Once dressed, he slung the bag full of blood-stained clothing and equipment over his shoulder and exited the locker room, his hair still damp.

“Here you go.” Cameron stood at the entrance like some sort of bouncer, with Ally by his side. He pressed a check into Ryan’s hand. “Made it out to you before the match – knew you’d kick Ivanov’s ass. You in for next week?”

Ryan accepted the slip of paper and tucked it deep into a pocket, simultaneously slipping an arm around Ally’s shoulders. “Yeah.”

Cameron beamed his approval. “See you at the gym.”

Ryan nodded, already tuning out, his mind blocking out the noise of the post-fight crowd. Training for his next fight would start soon enough. Tonight, he wasn’t going to do anything but enjoy Ally. “You ready to get out of here, baby?”

“Definitely.”

Outside, the parking lot was less crowded than the building had been. Still, he’d traded a sea of people for a sea of vehicles. His Mustang was there somewhere, but as he and Ally approached the nearest line of cars, it hit him that he didn’t know where.

He searched his mind, thinking back to when he’d parked it earlier that night. It was no use – his mind presented him with nothing. It was like there was a gap in his memory between when he’d left his apartment and when he’d entered the building. “Where’d I park the Mustang again?” Ally had ridden with him.

“Right over there.” She pointed toward the lot’s left corner. “Hey, are you all right?”

“Seeing silver lights.”

“I’ll drive,” she said as they moved forward, toward the space where the Mustang waited.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not in pain, and you don’t have a license.” It wasn’t a lie – the sensation mounting behind his skull was still more pressure than pain, though the lights warned him that wouldn’t be the case for long.