7 Minutes in Heaven

7 Minutes in Heaven Chapter 8

To the right is a pic of Alice Maury ------->

(I know the pictures don't correspond to the cast, but this is more of how I picture them) Oh, and since I didn't put much work into the cast, if you have any celebs that'd fit the roles better, just let me know.

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“Emmett! Emmett! Emmett! Emmett!” the crowd chanted as my brother pinned down his opponent. You could see the sweat beading down their faces as the challenger was struggling, squirming under Emmett’s weight and grasp. After a few seconds, the ref had declared Emmett the winner and nearly half the gym jumped from their seats, standing, whooping and cheering for him when the ref raised his arm—including me.

The meet wasn’t over just yet—there was one more. And that was Nate Stanford. There he was in his navy blue wrestling uniform yet the only feature I really paid any heed to, was his nearly perfect face. My eyes lowered to his lips, an overconfident smirk as he approached his adversary in his blood red uniform. The guy had a vicious, sadistic expression with his teeth bared, eyes glowering. Even from miles away you could see the creases on his forehead from scowling. He didn’t look ripped, but you could see his muscles pretty damn well.

On the other hand, Nate looked relaxed, blasé towards this whole situation. Compared to his opponent, Nate was…smaller in a sense. How could he keep that arrogant smirk and confident expression when he’s going against someone who just might easily crush him (and yet I wonder how they’re in the same weight class)? Nate simply looked at the guy with a triumphant look. Is he an idiot? But just as the ref called it, the guy was already pinned down by Nate in just seconds.

What the hell? Well, I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover after all—I underestimated Mr. Player. I still found it weird yet wonderful how he could overpower such a big guy so damn easily. It makes me think twice about messing with Nate. However, the two were still struggling against each other as the guy managed to slip from Nate’s grasp. And then they were back to grappling each other like animals.

Everyone was chanting, “Nate! Nate! Nate! Nate!” but I remained silent. Don’t get me wrong, I’m overjoyed that he’s winning, but at the same time, I didn’t feel like joining the crowd. I’m being a tad bit biased, I understand; however, I just don’t like the guy (I just like his kisses and caresses)—I didn’t want to get caught up and find myself cheering him on like everyone else. I was already doing that much deep down.

Alice and Jackson were doing the same too, simply watching, and cheering on Nate in their thoughts. We had our arms crossed, leaning back on the bleachers, and kept up our bored expressions. As for Alex and Lily, he’s tutoring her right at the moment—we had our fingers crossed, hoping that he doesn’t screw it up.

As I stared at Nate, all I focused on were his muscles that rippled as he pinned his opponent down; keeping a firm hold so he wouldn’t squirm out of his grasp for a second time. The concentration on Nate’s face was palpable, and sweat was beading down his face. He didn’t look so tensed up; his eyes were relaxed and out in the distant, practically zoning out; his jaw wasn’t clenching in frustration. No. He had solid confidence towards his victory, and I could suddenly see why he had that smug look on his face when he stepped on the mat. He knew he was going to win—but that could’ve been him just being cocky as always.

Still though, it was like he knew his opponent; it was as though Nate knew what he was up against and how he should hold his ground against the opponent. He read through every move and assessed the ratio of his success to his failure—his win to his loss. He basically tested his opponent to find every point of weakness where he could pin the guy down with no complications. Nate knew where he stood; he knew which method he should use against him in order to win.