He chuckles, probably remembering how mad I had gotten. "In hindsight, I don't know what I was thinking. There's no way your body frame could be a ballerina."
Jax yelps in surprise. "Tristan, are youkiddingme?!" he yells at his best friend. "This is how you want to start with her? Dude, she's going tokillyou!"
I shrug off Tristan's comment. Weight and body type are common topics at martial arts gyms, since weight classes are a very large part of fighting. I'm not nearly as sensitive about my weight and muscular frame as I used to be. As it turns out, my ass and thighs are actually a benefit to my fighting style—especially when it comes to wrestling and jiu-jitsu.
“Mybody framehas gotten me five gold medals in local jiu-jitsu tournaments,” I grind out.
Tristan smirks and takes a swig of his beer. “You would have a lot more if you’d get out of your head and stop losing to girls you have no business losing to.”
My eyes narrow as my body starts to bubble with anger. He’s not wrong, but it’s annoying that he’s noticed my main training flaw.
"I could still submityouin under one round," I snarl at Tristan.
His eyes light up in gleeful surprise. "Did you get punched in the head too many times this week? In what world do you really believe that's true?"
Without a word, I stand up and cross my arms—offering a clear challenge.
His face splits into a wide grin. He hands Jax his beer, who is now cringing at what he knows is about to happen.
"You two have exactlyone round. Joe's fight is starting soon," he mutters to us.
There's a reason the guys don't have a coffee table in front of the TV. Because inevitably during fight nights someone will decide they want to fight. Whether it's wanting to try a move or simply to get out aggression, their friends always end up rolling around on the ground at some point.
MMA is made up of several martial arts: boxing, Muay Thai, wrestling, judo, jiu-jitsu, and a dozen others. We train mostly Muay Thai—which is basically kickboxing with knees and elbows—and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu at the gym. Jiu-jitsu is a mix between wrestling and chess with the human body. The goal is to use your and your opponent’s body to force a submission with either a chokehold, an armlock, or a leglock. It’s the ultimate self-defense sport because by definition, size and strength don’t matter. Technique is the only thing that matters. It’s also very low risk because there are no punches or kicks being thrown, which is why it’s the go-to activity whenever people want to fight in the house.
Tristan and I square up in our wrestling stances. I haven't trained with him in a while since he's switched to training during the day, so I'm not actually sure what I'm in for right now. Obviously, I know that he's a pro fighter, so way more skilled and dedicated than me, but I also have faith in my own skills. And my scrappiness.
We circle each other and fake a few shots at a takedown. The grin on his face grows and I realize my face has probably morphed into an expression of sheer focus and determination. He knows he could destroy me at any point but he's enjoying playing with his prey a little longer.
Sure enough, when he shoots for a real takedown, he gets it pretty easily. I land on my back but recover my guard quickly, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep him from being able to pull away. He tries to create space but my ‘non-ballerina frame’ makes it hard for him to unlock my legs.
As I think about what I know of his fight game—and what I could possibly beat him with right now—I realize that he's still just playing with me. He's very clearly not taking me seriously. He's making rookie mistakes, moving slowly and leaving his arms out for me to easily trap.
Anger starts bubbling through my veins.
In a quick motion, I put one foot on his hip and push off so I can swing it around to trap the arm that he's lazily left out. I grin triumphantly because I can instantly feel that it's a solid attempt at an armbar.
The grin drops from his face and I see his eyes flash in surprise. It takes him a few moments, but he manages to free his arm from my grasp.
Not to be deterred, I use his escape to immediately swing into another submission attempt. This time I trap his other arm and wrap my legs around his neck and shoulders, effectively working to strangle him with my legs.
This chokehold isn't as close of an attempt as the armbar was, but I'm still pretty proud of the speed at which I flipped from one move to the other. I always loved that jiu-jitsu is so strategic—to win you have to anticipate your opponent's moves and be three steps ahead.
It doesn't take Tristan long to escape this submission, either. He shifts toward the side of my body and pulls himself out of my trap. Except now, he's in an even stronger position on top of me because I don't have my legs controlling him.
He quickly manages to throw his leg over my waist and straddle me. In jiu-jitsu this position is called the full mount—and it's undoubtedly the worst position to be in.
Tristan sits up slightly and grins when he sees my angry expression. He knows he's in the best spot to finish our little match.
In a final attempt at a Hail Mary, I trap his hands and bump my hips up as hard as I can. Since he doesn't have his arms to brace with, my motion rolls us easily. And now I'm the one on top of him.
"All right, assholes, round's over," Jax calls. "Joe's fight is starting."
I grin triumphantly down at Tristan. I know technically neither of us won, but a part of me feels smug seeing the shock on Tristan's face. He almost looks impressed.
"You're too cocky for your own good," I smirk. "If that was a points match, I would've won. That's what you get for not taking me seriously." I stand up without offering him a helping hand. Grabbing my beer, I curl happily into the couch to watch the fight starting on the TV.
I hear Jax snicker. "She's right, dude, you could've beaten her if you weren't playing around the whole time."