by Claire Adams
He laughed. “Ahh no, I've been feeling sort of rough myself since I got up, so I'll have a coffee as well.”
I went into the kitchen and grabbed a mug out of the cupboard. I picked up the pot of coffee I had brewed and poured him a cup. It was hot and steamy as it rose from the cup.
“What do you take in it?” I asked.
“Just cream for me, thanks.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don't intake a lot of sugar, believe it or not.”
I nodded and retrieved the cream from the fridge. I poured it into the mug and stirred it with a spoon. I carried the cup into the living room and handed it to him. I sat beside him on the couch.
He stared at me almost longingly, and I had the urge to touch him. I restrained myself, however, and waited for him to say something to me. I didn't wait long.
“Can I ask you something, Natalie?”
“Of course,” I answered, although I was a little fearful of what he was about to say.
“Did I do something wrong last night?”
Surprised, I said, “No, of course not; I had fun at the bar. Why would you ask that?”
“Well, because you came over and started kissing me, and 15 minutes later you were walking out my door. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's a little unusual, don't you think?” He laughed nervously.
It was exactly what Julie and I had discussed that day, and I was embarrassed that it was so blatantly obvious to Jet as well. I was a mess, and even he was noticing it.
I chuckled, unsure how to explain myself. Well, my mother always taught me that honesty was the best policy. “Look, Jet, every time we get into these situations that involve alcohol, I end up naked in your bed. I'm not entirely sure that would ever happen if I wasn't drunk. So it makes me wonder how I actually feel about you in the light of day. That's why I always bail on you the next day, because I don't know what else to do. I regret the impulses that get me into those situations, and because I can't deal with them, I just bail. But it happens all the time with us, so I think it's just making things worse between us.”
I sighed, feeling better that I had unleashed all that confusion onto Jet, for better or worse.
“Wow, that's heavy.”
I laughed. “Well, you asked for it.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, man, I guess I did.”
I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. This was one of those times when a guy could run screaming into the night if he really wanted to.
“I understand some of what you're saying, Natalie, and I understand that there are some things you need to figure out.” I nodded while he talked. “But I can assure you that I'm on the same page as you are with regard to the drunken sex; I think it has gotten out of hand. I promise I won't put you in that position again. If we are ever intimate again in the future, we won't be drunk when it happens.”
Surprise came across my face, and I smiled. I didn't expect him to come out with that, but I was glad that we seemed to be relatively on the same page.
“Shall we get started?”
“Yeah, of course. So what am I taking off this time? My pants, because you did miss out on seeing that action last night?”
I giggled. “It's not like I haven't seen it before, Jet.” I winked at him as his eyes went wide.
“Fair enough, so what am I taking off?”
“Socks.”
“Socks?” he repeated, incredulously. “Are you serious? You really don't want me to drop my drawers?”
“No, not yet, anyway. It's too obvious, you know? That's where the audience would expect me to go next, so I'm surprising them by doing what they don't expect.”
“I see. Brilliant, and yet, not very sexy.”
“Well, Jet, this isn't all about you, ya know?”
“Clearly.”
I laughed. “Okay, get over there and remove your socks.” I walked over to the dining room table and grabbed one of the chairs. I positioned it where he normally stood.
“This time we are going to use the chair. I want you to sit in it cross-legged.”
“It doesn't matter that I'm not in the same position?”
“No, of course not. The drawings aren't about the position, it's about the consecutive changes you make.” He nodded, understanding my viewpoint.
“Gotcha.” He pulled off his socks, and I giggled as he threw them at me. He took off his shirt as well, to match what we had done the last time.
“Yuck, those had better be clean.”
“Of course not, they are the ones that I wore to the gym today.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and started setting up my easel for the drawing. I sharpened my pencils, sat myself down, and got ready to draw. I looked up at him, and he looked very much at ease in the position I put him in.
Once again, I started with an outline. This picture would be a little more difficult because of all the extra angles. He wasn't in a standing position this time, which is easier to draw. With him sitting with his legs crossed, there were so many different angles. The fabric of his pants would be scrunched, as well as I would have to depict his crossed legs without losing it completely for the audience.
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you are concentrating on a drawing?”
I looked up at him again and smiled. “Well, you're the only one who has ever seen me this way, aside from class, of course. But I think everyone is paying attention to their own thing instead of looking at my obvious beauty,” I said sarcastically as I laughed.
“Well, you are.”
“Thank you.”
When I finished the outline, I gave him a break to stretch his legs. Instead of grabbing wine like we did last time, I replenished his coffee mug, and mine as well. The warm coffee soothed me, and tasted just like caramel. He took the coffee mug from me and stepped around to look at the drawing. There wasn't much to see at that point, aside from the idea behind the drawing. He seemed to appreciate it all the same.
“It starts out so simply, doesn't it?”
“Yup, but doesn't everything?”
He set his mug on the coffee table, and took a quick bathroom break before we continued. When he returned, he picked up his mug again and took a long swallow. He then set it down and returned to his position.
The rest of the drawing went well, and although there were more angles to master, I did so without any hiccups. I drew in the last stroke of the picture and announced that we were finished for the evening. He slipped back into his shirt and went in search of his socks. He found them one at a time, and came to take a look at the drawing.
“It's definitely my favorite so far.”
“Yeah? Why's that?” I asked him.
“It seems so casual. You definitely caught my relaxed state. I like it; you are so good at this.”
I smiled as I looked down at the drawing. He was right; I had been able to catch his state of relaxation. “Thanks, Jet.”
He bent down and kissed me on the cheek. It was soft and subtle, and didn't go any further.
“Thanks for the coffee. I'll talk to you later, okay?”
I nodded, and watched him as he walked out the door.
Chapter Six
Jet
Fight night had arrived once again for me, and I was pretty jacked up to get back into the cage. I wanted to go to war once again, and take down my opponent. It was the conference semifinals, and the school was having a press conference beforehand. It was moments like this which provided a window into the life that I could one day have in the MMA world. All the fighters that were taking part in the conference lined up at a table, answering questions from the press.
One reporter called out, “Jet, what form of attack do you plan on going with tonight?”
“Well, everyone knows that I'm a natural striker. Although I feel like I have a solid ground game, I like punching people in the face. It makes me happy.”
There was laughter around the room. The other fighters began answering si
milar questions. Before long, the press conference was over, and we were packing up to get ready for the fights.
We had to prepare. We were meeting up at another school for the night, so we had a lot of gear to pack, and Coach wanted us to head out earlier to get our team set up at the school.
I made sure to have my fight outfit ready to go, and I packed all the essential fighting pieces that I would need. I met up with Coach in our locker room, and he patted my shoulder. “So, champ, are you ready for another big fight?”
“Yeah, I can't wait.”
“Conference semifinals are a big deal. You win this and you are going to the finals. That will be the start of a great career for you.”
“I'm on it, Coach. I got this―don't worry about me. I'm going to get there, believe me. It's the only thing I've ever wanted to do.”
“That's my boy!” He pounded me on the back. We laughed as we continued to pack up the gear. We left soon after, piled into the school van, and headed to the school.
We were finally situated in our own locker area, getting ready for the fight. I had taken a peek outside a few times, and the gymnasium was jam-packed full of people. It just made the excitement that much better. I could not wait to get out there. Unfortunately, I had to wait for everyone else to fight. I was the main card and would fight last. I had my hands taped, and at that point I was helping the rest of the fighters warm up and prepare for their fights. One by one, they went out, and came back to victory. We had a strong team that year, and everyone was at the top of his game.
As the evening wore on, the time came for me to fight. Coach was warming me up with pads, and I was warm, my blood pumping in my heart. It was time to fight.
“And nowwwww, ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all be waiting for. Our reigning champion, the only and only, Jet!”
The crowd went ballistic, and I headed down the aisle towards the cage. I went down trotting, and felt the crowd going nuts around me as I made my way. I hopped into the cage and stretched out my arms, bouncing around the cage, keeping myself warm and ready
There were more fans of mine than Ford’s at the fight that night. The crowd was screaming in a chant, but I was not my usual cocky self that evening. I didn’t break into a smile, and I didn’t wave at my fans.
The presenter called out for my opponent. “And nowwww, ladies and gentlemen, the man that you have all been waiting for. Watch out for Ford!”
I watched Ford as he walked out and headed down toward the ring. He walked toward me, toward his fate. I was going to destroy him, and move on to the finales. Ford was a strong fighter. He had plenty of wins on his record, but I refused to fear any of them. The moment I started to do that, I would be doomed.
I stood in my corner, and my lack of a cocky response to Ford’s bravado was showing as he headed to the ring and jumped in.
Ford came into the cage and removed his black robe, his body looking no less fit than mine. Ford's eyes fell instantly on mine, and a smile that could only be described as evil spread across his lips; a smile that was already victorious. Why was that guy so happy? Feeling victorious already?
We touched gloves in the middle of the cage and headed to our corners. The bell rang as we both went to the center of the cage and went toe-to-toe. Ford landed a massive punch to my ribs, and then quickly slammed my jaw back with an awful one-two punch. The sickening sound of flesh and bone meeting caused the crowd to go mad. I could hear my corner screaming for me to focus and keep my hands up. I held my ground, but shuddered as I recovered, and continued going after Ford. As I went in again, I made sure to protect my head against another onslaught. In every fight I have had, I never kept my guard down low. It would be suicide for any fighter to do so, never mind an experienced fighter like me.
I got it in on the next one, however, as I went in and rammed a punch into Ford's gut. Then I followed it with an uppercut to the jaw that Ford took far too easily. He straightened up right away and glared at me, almost daring me to come at him again.
The next three punches took Ford in the body again; two in the chest and one in the rib cage, and he had yet to hit me again. I was taking things a step at a time, and I knew if I kept things the way they were going right now, that I could win the fight. I was not sure if Ford's rib cage could withstand any more blows, but I threw them in quickly, in a three-punch combination, hammering him with body shots. I heard the wind come out of him as he staggered backwards. He wasn't getting any punching into me at all. He came at me and lunged, trying to take me to the ground. He pushed me into the side of the cage, but I held my ground. If he wanted me down there, I was going to avoid it at all costs.
Ford swung out with his left hand and landed a good one to my jaw, then landed a straight punch that brought me right to my knees. The crowd was going wild, screaming profanities into the cage. They were not happy with what was happening to their champ.
“Booo! Boooo! Kill him, Jet! Fight back!”
When I stood again, the fight continued in an endless gray world of kicking and punching. I wasn't sure how Ford's body was withstanding the damage I was doing to it. Every time he was punched, he kept coming. My corner was going nuts, and I knew that I had to seriously focus, or I was going to lose everything. Blood was pouring from both of us, and I worried that I was too injured―that it would affect my second round, if we even got that far.
After a serious round of punches to Ford's abs, he dropped to his knees. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet, and I wondered why he didn’t just throw in the towel. Panting for breath, my face dripping with blood, I delighted my fans by jumping back and waiting for Ford to get back up. When he did, I sent out a spinning back kick, and landed it right to Ford's head.
The crowd was losing themselves in that fight. People were screaming, “Ford, get up and fight. Fight him! Fight him!”
When Ford reset and came back in, he landed a punch that took the breath right out of me. I pounded his body and then took a shot to the head, but I reset immediately. I sent out a roundhouse kick, and I heard the crack. Ford fell face down on the floor.
Blood oozed from my body, dripping onto the canvas floor of the ring. I could feel my face swelling, and I was panting for breath. I was sure Ford was down for the count, but then I watched as he planted one shaking hand on the ground, and then the other. The room had grown completely silent as they watched Ford try to push himself back up. I couldn’t understand why he just didn’t stay down; he was one tough mother.
Ford pushed himself up, and spit more blood on the ground. He used his arms to get back up on his feet, only to catch a strong left hook to his temple that swung his head around. My corner was going crazy; they were loving every minute of the fight. This was probably one of the most exciting fights anyone had seen all year.
At this point Ford was hurting pretty badly. The ref went in immediately and called the fight done. It didn't matter anymore how much Ford wanted to continue the battle―the fight was called.
Silence fell over the entire stadium as everyone waited in agony to see what happened next. The medics were in attending to Ford, and as soon as they were sure that he would be fine until they could take him to the hospital, he was brought to the middle for the judges to call the fight.
The crowd started cheering as the announcer spoke.
“Our victor for the night is Jet! The conference semifinals belt goes, ladies and gentlemen, to Jet!”
My corner came in, and I practically fell into the arms of my coach as they helped me out of the cage. I would go back to the locker room and get checked by the medic as well. It had been one hell of a fight. I couldn't even imagine fighting again anytime soon. I would need to heal. As I made my way back to the lockers, I heard the crowd chanting my name. They were thrilled that I had won, but I certainly took one hell of a beating for it. I wondered if Natalie would be up for giving me another massage, ‘cause I surely could use one, that was certain. I had considered inviting her to the fight, as I thought she would really enj
oy it. I was glad I didn't, however. She would have found it upsetting that I took the beating I did, despite the fact that I ended up winning.
We went into the locker area and sat down on the bench while the medic looked me over. I had no broken bones and no real damage. But my body was already bruising, and I would be incredibly sore for at least a few days. Maybe weeks. I had a cut above my eye, which was the cause of the blood that kept pouring from my head.
I would have to go to the hospital to get my eye stitched up. It would need to heal before I could fight again, or it would become a weakness. I hated weaknesses, and didn't want to give my opponents anything to go on if I didn't have to.
Coach helped me pack up my things, and we left the gymnasium with my belt around my shoulders. We were headed to the hospital, where I would be stitched up, and could then return home to spend the night in an ice bath to bring down some of the swelling that was occurring all over my body.
Chapter Seven
Natalie
Brenda and I were sitting in photography class, chatting as our fight assignments came back. We had submitted pictures to the dean for the fight, and he had absolutely loved them. These assignments were now being handed back.
I looked in the folder, went through the pictures from that fight, and I beamed with pride. I looked at the assignment sheet and saw that I received an A+ on the photography. It made me feel incredible that I had done so well.
“Great job, girl. That was a pretty great assignment, and you had good reason to do well.” She meant Jet, and yet I didn't think it had anything to do with how well the pictures came out. I put the pictures back into their folder, and made note that I would have to show them to Jet the next time we got together.
“Don't forget that we have that campus costume party to go to tonight.”
“How could I forget?”
“Don't be a party pooper; I think it will be a lot of fun. Plus, everyone is going to be there.”
