Mixie Moxie (COMPLETED)

Bout 2

Her face was something I'd never seen before, something like a model who held sunlight in her eyes. She clenched her glove, looking right past me and staring hard at Jinx, who stood with his mouth open as he was stolen of words. My mind raced.

Who was this girl? Did Jinx know her? Did she know him?

"Boxers, are you ready?" The official raised his hands, and she nodded before I did. Her hair struggled to attempt to escape from her helmet as she raised her gloves as they shone in the light.

I bit my lip and raised mine.
Just like before, the official started:
"Boxers, I want a clean bout, alright? No leaving the canvas or it results in disqualification of your team and lost points in your school's standing in the tournament. No roughhousing, low blows, kidney punches in clinches, or brutal knockouts. Once there is blood, the round is over and the contender with the most points wins the match. The round will last for 10 minutes until we go to the cards. Any questions?"

My heart was racing, but not about the battle. It was about this girl, and how she stared daggers into my eyes and looked at nothing else. It was like the world didn't exist around her view. She looked hungry for blood.

The crowd hollered for me like they sensed my unease. The bell sounded, and I hesitated.

Fluidly, she swerved around the mat like a snake, circling me in a tight loop while she kept contact with me. I attempted to shift my eyes to Jinx, but my side was silent. South Circuit's student's clapped and stomped for her, and she lowered her eyebrows into a glare similar to the stare of an angry feline.

I faked a hook, but before I could even extend my arm and let it leave my body, her glove pushed across my face. The slap threw my thoughts into overdrive. I bit my cheek so hard a chunk escaped from my mouth.

My mind raced to the pain. But she wasn't done. She hit me with a combination so fast, so hard that the air left my lungs like I was shot. I hit the mat hard. The official forgot he was one for a second, shocked into silence that I fell to my back wincing in pain.

She stood silent looking over me while my ears blurred away the count. Amy called my name, but I don't think I heard it as I should. It was distorted and hazy. The only thing I could pay attention to was the anger in her eyes and how much it matched my own.

I groggily stood up, beating the count by 4 seconds.

Come on Mixie, you must have forgotten who the fuck you were.

I adjusted my breathing and closed my eyes. Exhaling the fear and hesitation. I let Red Bull take over. My curls fell in front of my face, and when I opened my eyes to her thin and toned body again, I honed in on her. Only her.

We danced around the mat like fighting sharks, matching blow for blow, punch for punch. She was a stylistic cover-up fighter who knew just when to drop her guard to jab and pull it back.

"PAN! PAN! PAN!" South Circuit howled for her, jumping up and down crazily. They saw this as a clear win for her.

She smirked, almost like a growl in the wrong light, and shifted her foot before she leaped into the air with her fist held high. Angrily, I charged her, reaching up with my glove aimed for hers. We collided.

I could have sworn I felt a gust of air from our punch. Even the judges were silent, leaning hard off their chairs, hooked on the excitement like a pay per view boxing match.

We didn't break eye contact, our fists shaking as they tried to cancel each other out in that contact. We were breathing hard together, waiting for each other to speak, move... breathe.

My thoughts raced. My body twinged with a soreness and pain I had no choice but to acknowledge. With our foreheads pressing together and our eyes locked on each other, our lips both in an angry snarl, we were locked in a fierce standstill.

And then, her amber eyes closed and her body relaxed. She dropped her fist, jumping back from the collide and standing straight with her head lowered as she smiled peacefully at the ground. I stood there, dropping my guard and panting in response, trying to read her.

The official walked over to her, asking if she was fine. Silently, she slowly opened her eyes at me, smiling and revealing snowy white teeth and rosy pink lips, before turning on her heels—

And walking out of the tournament building.