1
AIDEN
"Ten bucks says I can pretend-murder you in the next round."
Tristan just quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at me. "You're delusional. But you’re on.”
I immediately crouch low, circling my coach and friend on the mat as I get ready to shoot for a takedown. He's older and more skilled, but he's a few days away from his UFC debut and Coach has been working him into the ground, so he's sore and more banged up than ever. And I'll use any advantage I can get.
He feints a shot at a takedown, but I see it coming so I drop my hips back in a sprawl, already planning a counter-move that might get me on top of him instead.
Except, I over-exert on the sprawl and end up giving Tristan an opportunity to come down on top of me.
He wraps an arm around my head and under my chin, and before I even realize what's happening, he's used that grip to spin around to my side and take my back. It takes him next to no time to sink his forearm under my chin from behind, and even less time to squeeze hard enough to make me tap out in surrender.
"I'll take that in cash, thanks," Tristan says with a cocky grin as he rolls away from me.
"Shut up, you set me up," I mumble, coughing awkwardly to try to clear my throat after the chokehold.
"Bullshit," he responds cheerfully. "I'm running at like 60% right now. This was the perfect time to take me out. It's not my fault you're more preoccupied with school and girls than training."
I aim a glare at him. "That's not fair, and you know it."
He lets out a sigh as he lies down on the mat. "Chill out, man, I'm just kidding. Everyone knows you're a hard worker. You just need to work on your takedown defense."
I let out a sigh of my own and flop back onto the mat. "Yeah, I know. I should head over to the college again for some wrestling sessions."
"Take Tristan with you. He could use some lessons of his own," says a voice from the other end of the room.
I turn to face Remy, Tristan's girlfriend and one of my hardest training partners. If it weren't for the constant after-training eye-fucking, you'd never know these two were dating. Their love language seems to be bickering and hate sex.
"Why don't you come over here and I'll show you just how good I am at wrestling," he growls at her.
"You're on, asshole.” She stands from her stretch and immediately launches herself at her boyfriend. Within seconds, the two are a rolling mass of limbs, each one trying to finish the other with a submission.
"Good to see nothing has changed between those two," Jax says drily from behind the check-in desk. I smirk, knowing he's secretly giddy about the fact that his two best friends finally acknowledged their feelings and got together.
"I can't say I don't miss the days they were at each other's throats, but this is close enough that it doesn't matter," I admit with a wave of my hand.
"Except now it's considered foreplay instead of just sexual frustration in the form of training," someone says with a chuckle on my other side.
I aim a glare atmybest friend, debating for a moment if I want to simulate murder on him before I end my training for the day. But then I realize I'm too tired, and he's not wrong.
"There's no need to point it out," I tell Max with a wince. "Dating or not, Remy still feels like a sister to all of us, so we don't exactly need to analyze their sex life."
"Here here," Jax echoes with a wince of his own.
"I had no idea our sex life was such a big topic of conversation," Tristan drawls from where he just submitted Remy with the same chokehold he got me with. "Would you all like to come watch next time? I’m happy to share the knowledge. Maybe you could even pick up a few pointers.”
We all shudder at the thought, at the same time that Remy smacks her boyfriend's shoulder for the suggestion.
"You're an ass," she grumbles.
"You knew that when you said yes to me," Tristan says cheerfully, driving his body into her stomach and lifting her over his shoulder. He smacks her once on the ass as he carries her into the heavy bag room on the other side of the gym, her shriek echoing through the room.
Hearing Jax's heavy sigh, I turn to see my teammate's eyes following his best friends, looking almost... forlorn. Or conflicted? Which is odd, because I've never seen him be anything but cheerful.
"What's going on, big guy?" I ask. "Why the long face?"