To Be A Champion

Chapter 27: These Are The Lies

I duck, just narrowling managing to miss Tom's fist swinging for my jaw. I jump back, my heart pounding in my chest as sweat runs down my temple. The cool morning air offers no respite after having been going at this for so long.

Tom tsks, his eyes sparkling in playful delight at my heavy breathing. "Careful, Five. I nearly hit you."

"Nearly," I emphasize, forcing a grin. It drops when he charges me and I have to dodge again. "Missed. Don't tell me you're getting tired. I might actually end up beating you this time."

"Seeing how this is our fourth go, and I've beaten you the last three times, you winning would be me pitying you," He responds, blocking my kick with his elbow and using his free arm to swing and give a left hook into my side.

I stagger backwards, and he takes this opportunity to charge at me again. This time I don't have the time to dodge, and my block just leaves pain shooting up the side of my arm that he hit. He sweeps out his leg to try to take me down, but I jump.

My feet touch the ground and I jab straight forward, hitting him in the chest. It doesn't push him back much, but it does enough to get him away from me for the moment. I'm breathing hard, pain from past matches skirting up my body, certain areas throbbing and bruising. Still, I'd rather be doing this than sitting inside watching Nicole work on the damn box and getting nowhere, or listening to Janine as she tries to come up with a plan to get us on Dearg.

"Getting tired?" Tom asks, and I'm not sure if he's teasing or genuinely curious. A smile quirks on my lips either way.

"Is that your way of telling me you forfeit?"

I'm answered with him charging and swinging, hitting me right in the stomach and knocking the wind out of me.

"Never," He says, and I try to kick him again, this time succeeding. He grunts, but swings at me again with vigor. I block, again feeling a throb in my arm but ignoring it to curl my first upward. He goes to block, and I stop, swinging with my free hand to jab his side.

I don't get the chance to grin at my fakeout before his fist connects to my chin, pushing me back as my eyes water in pain. Somthing slams into my chest–his foot, I presume–and I'm sent sprawling backwards. My back hits the ground with a painful thud, and I go still, staring up at the gray, cloudy sky that signals rain. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, and Tom leans over me, a tired grin on his face.

"Might just beat me this time, huh?" He chuckles, pushing back some of his black hair that's stuck to his forehead before offering me a hand. I take it.

"You win some, you lose some," I say with a shrug, and he quirks a brow.

"But you've lost all of them."

"Shut up," I laugh, which causes him to laugh as well.

The laughter fades entirely too quickly when Tom stumbles, even moreso when he stumbles again. Concern stabs my chest as I grab his arm to steady him, and to my surprise he grabs my wrist instead of pushing me away. My eyes study his face as he blinks several times. I don't miss the way his face contorts in concretation, although I'm not sure what he could be concretating on.

"Everything okay, Tom?" I ask, forcing amusement in my voice. "I didn't hit you in the head last match, did I?"

I didn't. I know I didn't. I never managed to get a single hit near Tom's face, although he did manage to get a few on me. At least I'll be able to claim the upcoming bruise on my chin is because of my and Tom's sparring and not because of Sam and I getting up to anything.

"No, no, just a dizzy spell," He remarks casually, letting me go and pulling himself from my grip. "Most likely from dehydration."

I bite my tongue to keep from questioning it. He already knows I don't believe it. Or at least, he should know that I don't. I can't read him as well as he reads me, but I'm not completely stupid.