Fighter {Completed}

Chapter Forty-Two: Dance With Me {Cole}

Chapter Forty-Two: Dance With Me {Cole}

Four days.

Four fucking days since I've been with Ellie.

Four fucking days since I've gotten to kiss her.

Jumping up and down in the hallway, I stretch and warm up again.

"Ready, man?" Sebastian claps me on the shoulder, eyebrows raised in question. I nod, ready to get this fight over with so that I can go to Ellie. Honestly, I thought about cancelling this stupid ass spar but I know I need to keep myself fighting if I ever expect to last in the UFC.

But dear God, I just want to see my Ellie.

"Let's do this," I tell him just as my music begins playing, signaling that it's time for me to walk out.

I'm momentarily surprised as I take the first steps outward. These arenas are way bigger than the ones I'm used to. Fans fill up every seat, even though this isn't a Main Event match. Hell, this isn't even an official UFC fight yet. I'm fairly sure the guy I'm sparring is going into the UFC as well, and this is a UFC arena. Jesus, how are there these many people here for an unofficial match?

It doesn't take me long to get into the ring, shrugging off my t-shirt and slipping in my mouth guard. I stare down my opponent as he enters the ring. He's easily got five pounds on me, about two inches as well. He's broad shouldered and a Southpaw, and he's clearly unintimidated as he wears a smug, almost sinister look in his eye.

Something catches my eye as I watch the official go over to greet the trainer of the man. I nudge Sebastian, telling him to watch.

It's sly, almost so smooth that I miss it.

But the ref doesn't check the fighter's gloves properly, not the way he's required to. In fact, it seems like he goes to a great length to avoid his gloves. I doubt anyone else would even notice it, but it's clear to us since we know exactly what to look for.

Sebastian curses.

"Something's up, keep your distance and don't let him touch you."

He won't get the chance.

The announcer calls our names, introducing us to the crowd as a I watch the man dance around, warming up. He tries to play off his gloves way to hard, not moving his arms and staying stiff as he jumps, desperate to keep their cheating a secret. It makes me wonder if he's got weights in his gloves or something.

That's fine, pal. I'll just beat your ass and then expose you.

There's no place for cheaters in my ring.

The guy, Uttwell, I believe is his name, looks at me. His eyes hold a challenge, yet a dash of fear hides behind it. With a smirk, I hold up my hands, giving him a "bring it on" gesture that has him fuming.

He lifts his gloves, getting ready.

"You ready?" the ref asks. I nod. He asks Uttwell the same, before giving us both a nod to begin.

I let him move first.

Racing toward me, I slip away from him, dodging a wide, wild swing right for my temple. It quickly sets off my temper, but I shove it down, letting the slow burn fuel me.

Little fucker. Going right for the knock out.

He moves again, clearly angry by his miss. Again, I dodge a wide swing, letting his fist hit the chain fence of the octagon behind me. I'm on the other side of the ring before he can turn, a smug smile on my lips.