Arriving at the tournament, I glanced around at the competitors.
I had been training in martial arts since my family was killed and most of them didn't look like worthy opponents. But I had learnt not to judge a book by its cover.
I watched them trudge around, making small talk with each other from a distance until walking into the crowd.
Later in the day, the sun became so hot it became hard to stand in one spot. I began to sweat and feel drowsy as someone tapped me. I turned around and almost collided into an outstretched hand with a water bottle grasped between its fingers.
"Ah!"
I grabbed it and chugged it down. It was refreshing and cold, my body thanked me as my sweat diminished.
I gasped for air and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, before turning to thank the person.
He stood there, towering above me with huge bulging muscles and a lean frame.
I choked out a brief thanks before burying myself in a mass of people behind me.
He was really hot. And kind. I didn't get a good look at his face, but I'm sure he had a good jawline at least.
I hoped I wouldn't have to fight him. Soaked underwear is the worst distraction in a physical fight.
You're more concentrating on them not noticing than thinking about where your opponents weak point are, and where their hands are going.
The time came to pick a number.
4.
Not too bad. I wouldn't have to sit at the sidelines for too long.
But there he was again, the tall guy with big muscles. I took a good look at his face from afar. A wide smile and very innocent looking eyes. His body looked like a fighter, sure but not his face.
He was cute.. I'll give him that...
