Submission Moves: An MMA Romance

by Sisco, Camilla

  “It’s true, Rose. Nick’s a really good guy,” Moira said emphatically. “Paolo told me he paid off both his and Angelo’s student loans, and he bought their parents a house in a nice neighborhood.”

  Three pairs of eyes looked at Rose, waiting.

  “Fine. He’s a good guy. You can all date him if you want to,” she said petulantly. She was acting like a brat and she knew it. But she didn’t like feeling cornered, especially by people who were supposed to be on her side. “He’s just not the kind of partner I see myself with for the long haul.”

  “What are you looking for? A male feminist?” Moira asked jokingly.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Rose said, looking at Anna for some sort of validation. Surely, she’d support her with that. That was non-negotiable.

  “And how many guys who claim to be feminists actually are? Being a feminist is a lot more nuanced than we thought it was back when we were in college and belting out angry girl lyrics,” Anna said soberly. “It’s not some exclusive club. People don’t have to self-designate as feminists to be one. From what I’ve gathered, Nick was raised to support feminist ideals, and I haven’t seen him behave to the contrary. He is a de-facto feminist. I guess you could say he walks the walk,” she said with a nod of approval.

  “What the fuck?” Moira said, wrinkling her nose at them. “Is this what passes as girl talk in your little clique? Please speak English. I was a cheerleader in high school and I didn’t go to some fancy college. I’m finding it very hard to keep up with the conversation.”

  “What she means, Moira,” Chris said, looking straight at Rose, “is that Rose should stop being so dogmatic. She can’t hold Nick to impossible standards and expect him to instinctively adhere to principles she herself has spent years learning and marinating in.”

  “What’s dogmatic?”

  “It means ridiculous.”

  “Oh,” Moira said, nodding. “That’s true, Rose. You’re being very dogmatic.” She said the word carefully and with great emphasis.

  “And why am I expected to do all the compromising?” Rose demanded. “I know what I want and I’m allowed to pursue that. I don’t want to lose myself or compromise who I am for a guy. I certainly don’t want to be with someone who makes me feel diminished and dominated. That’s not healthy. That’s against everything I believe in.” Her voice started to tremble as the truth came spilling out. “I don’t like what Nick does to me, okay? I don’t like who I become because of him, someone weak and vulnerable. He makes me need him.” And he makes me like it, but she didn’t add that.

  “From the moment I knew better, I promised myself I wouldn’t be the girl who would ever need anyone. I don’t want to lean on a man for support of any kind.”

  “You mean like Mom?”

  Her silence was as good as an admission. It was embarrassing yet strangely illuminating to finally accept that all her relationship troubles came down to her mommy issues. Half an hour in a parking lot with an odd collection of people did more to help exorcise her anxieties than hours upon hours on a therapist’s couch had.

  “You’re being unfair to her, Rose,” Chris said in a much gentler voice. “My mother divorced Dad when I was a year old. She left me and my brothers and went on to live a life unencumbered by responsibilities. It was Diane who raised me. She’s as much a mom to me as Dad is a father to you. You shouldn’t judge her. She took good care of another woman’s children. She takes good care of Dad. They’re happy together. What they have works for them.

  “People do a lot of freaky shit like have affairs or abandon their kids and call it feminism or empowerment or whatever,” he added. “No one will ever agree on what it really means. You get to define that for yourself. You can’t hold on to these ideals that are completely untethered to real life. The guy’s into you, you’re into him. Why must you overthink everything?”

  “I once had an ex who smacked me around,” Moira offered in a deadpan voice. “He said no one would ever love me so I shouldn’t even think about leaving him. So you wanna talk about having a man making you feel diminished and dominated…” She trailed off with a shrug.

  Rose looked down at her lap, ashamed. Her line of reasoning sounded much more convincing inside her head. Said out loud and bared to the harsh light of other people’s scrutiny, it sounded pretty lame and whiny.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, Chris is right,” Anna said after a long, awkward silence. “You don’t have to subscribe to all feminist ideals, especially not when it’s at the expense of your potential happiness. That’s the purpose of feminist discourse, you find what works for your context. We all have to draw the line somewhere. We do that at work all the time, why are you so resistant to doing it now? I mean, you wear Spanx and you own a phallic-shaped vibrator. In some schools of thought, that’s a feminist betrayal right there.”

  Chris made a garbled anguished sound like a small animal being tortured before flinging open the door and stumbling out of the car. He threw them one last look of horror. “I can never un-hear that,” he said before stalking off. The girls watched his retreating back, laughing hysterically.

  “Just go over there and talk to Nick, okay?” Moira said when their laughter died down. “His fight is in two days and he’s flying out to Vegas tomorrow morning. Better not miss him.”

  “I’m with the cheerleader,” Anna said, smiling. “Go get your man.”

  CHAPTER 22

  It was late and the gym was the quietest she’d ever seen it. Most of the regulars had gone home for the night. Rose caught Nick’s striking coach just as he was leaving, and he held the door open for her with a friendly smile. That was a good sign. It meant not everyone knew about her and Nick’s falling out. She couldn’t imagine they’d be thrilled with her if they knew she’d been giving him girl trouble so close to fight night. Nick could not afford the distraction.

  She found him pounding away at one of the punching bags hanging in the far end of the gym. She’d seen him in training many times before. He was usually very intense. Tonight there was something more like listlessness in the way he moved.

  She let him go on for a while, thinking it was better that he expelled all his energy before they had a talk. He spotted her, finally, and he looked at her as he tore off the gloves and tape from his hands and let them drop to the floor. Realizing he was waiting for her to say something, Rose stepped forward and let out a long breath. “I wanted to see you before you left. I didn’t want you to leave with us…not on good terms.”

  He smiled, a grim smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not sending me into a war, Rose. It’s just a fight. It’s where men punch each other for money. Y’know, cockfighting.”

  She winced. Everything started to make sense. “You heard that?” She bit the inside of her cheek painfully, too mortified to say anything more.

  He gave her a small nod. “And I didn’t hear you disagreeing.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t defend you.”

  He huffed with impatience. “I don’t need defending. I also don’t want you to feel like you have to defend me to anyone.”

  “Please don’t be angry,” Rose pleaded, guilt and shame rising up from her chest.

  “I’m not angry. Just disappointed.” He grabbed a towel he left lying on a nearby bench and wiped his sweaty face and chest with it.

  Now was not the time to perv on him. She shouldn’t. Oh, dear.

  “And I know I got no right to be,” he continued. “You’ve been honest with me from the start. You said I wasn’t your type. I forced the issue.” He punched the bag one more time with his bare knuckles. “My fault.”

  So that was it? He was giving up on her? Rose opened her mouth to say something, but he stopped her.

  “I don’t give a fuck if other people think that I’m not good enough for you as long as you tell me that I am. But maybe you don’t believe that.”

  She started to speak again. For a split second, she saw wary hope in his eyes. She chickened out, no
t quite ready to profess feelings she’d barely admitted to herself, feelings she did not yet fully understand. When she closed her mouth without having said a word, Nick just looked away, deflated.

  “I shouldn’t be complaining right?” He punched the bag again. “You’re offering free pussy. You’re my post-training booty call. What guy in his right mind wouldn’t take advantage of that?”

  Rose sensed that he only said that to rile her up and get a reaction out of her. But she just stood there and watched him. It was a fascinating moment when a fighter breaks, Nick had told Rose once. You could see it in their eyes. Right there in the middle of a fight, they mentally checked out, as if they knew they were beat. You win, please don’t hurt me.

  The whole conversation played back in her mind as she stood there. That was what she saw when she looked at him.

  “I’m in love with you,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Maybe I was already a little in love with you four years ago.”

  She gasped and her mouth fell open in shock. What he said officially broke her heart. Most girls would harbor some sort of feminine pride at what she had managed to accomplish. But Rose just felt sick to her stomach.

  “Like you didn’t know,” he said with a scoff when he caught sight of her face. “I even got this stupid tattoo—” He cut himself off and shook his head. “That came out weird and a little psycho. Forget I said anything.”

  As if she could. Was he such a stickler for pain and punishment that he’d admit to something like that? How could he just cut his heart out and serve it to her on a platter so carelessly? Rose always thought that being strong meant being able to protect yourself. That was why she chose men that could hurt her the least. But what kind of strength did it take to lay yourself bare to another person like that, to risk hurt and rejection?

  “Look, we can talk more when I get back, okay? If you feel like you still have something you wanna say to me. I can’t get into this before the fight.”

  She nodded meekly and started to turn away. Nick surprised her then, pulling her to him and placing a hard kiss on the crown of her head. “Good night, Rosie.”

  There was something so sad and defeated in the gesture that had her heart constricting painfully. She turned around and started walking out of the gym, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He was the strongest man she’d ever met. Strong, confident, and brash. And she’d reduced him to this. She had that power over him, and she didn’t want it. She thought that by rationing bits of herself, by never giving him more than she was willing to lose, she was protecting herself, her heart. It didn’t occur to her that he could get hurt, too. It was his heart that he offered up so willingly and unprotected that was more vulnerable. She didn’t want this man hurting and weak for her. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve him.

  She’d just made it out the gym’s glass doors when she decided to go back. She couldn’t leave it like that. She had to tell him…something. He had to know that he meant more than just sex to her. She turned around abruptly, almost running straight into Joe Grayson.

  “It’s late, Rose, what are you still doing here?”

  “I…uh…”

  “Let me walk you to your car. It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

  “Talk?” Something in his tone and the firm set of his jaw told her she shouldn’t disagree. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

  ****

  Nick stood under the shower far longer than necessary. He let the strong jets of water soothe away all the aches and pains from his body. It did nothing for the pain that got him all twisted inside, deep in his gut. No chick is worth all this, he thought. But that was a lie. Rose was the best person he had ever met, and he was never going to meet anyone else like her. She was passionate and she cared about people. He loved that about her. Too bad he hadn’t been able to make her care about him too—even just a little.

  Quit being such a pussy.

  He could almost hear her chiding him for using sexist language. A bitter laugh bubbled out of him. He could scarcely believe how deeply she’d taken root inside him. And he didn’t know if he could ever get rid of her without ripping his own heart out. He turned his head up, letting the hot water sluice down his face, shoulders, and chest. Then he let the tears fall.

  Later, Nick stepped out of the locker rooms and into the empty gym, thankful for small mercies. He didn’t think he could stand to go over his game plan with any of his coaches yet again or chat with any more well-wishers, not in the mood he was in.

  He was groping around in his messy gym bag for his car keys when a voice interrupted him.

  “Nick? Can I talk to you for a second, son?”

  He paused and turned to the sound of the voice. It was Pat Connelly.

  Holy shit, was Rose’s whole clan planning to show up tonight? Because that was the last thing he needed while trying to get his mind off her. He let his bag drop to the floor beside his feet and gave the other man a single nod. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  “You and Rose are quarrelling? Chris told me.”

  Damn, Chris sure had a big mouth. And how did he even know? Had Rose said something to him? He didn’t want anyone knowing about his business with Rose. If it were just jibes from his brothers and from the other guys, he could take that. But they all knew him well enough to know that she hadn’t been just a casual fling for him. And it was their pity he didn’t want.

  Nick shrugged noncommittally at Pat. How did you speak to the father of the girl who only wanted you for your dick? “She’s a great girl, but we’re not really on the same page. I guess we want different things,” he said flatly.

  Pat glowered at him. “Are you gonna tell me it’s you and not her? Are you really gonna give me that bullshit?”

  He looked angry, and now Nick was angry too. “Oh, it’s definitely her,” he said. He was not taking the fall for this one. “She thinks she’s too good for me—”

  “Of course she is,” Pat puffed proudly. “What’s the problem?” He seemed sincerely confused at that. “When you meet a woman who’s too good for you, who’s out of your league, you marry her. That’s what I did. How can a man settle for anything less?”

  Nick frowned at that pernicious piece of logic. “You happy?”

  “Very.”

  He gave him a skeptical look. He’d met his wife, and Rose had talked about her some. Diane Connelly didn’t strike him as the sort of woman a man would dream of marrying. She was cold, hard-hearted, and stubborn to the point of being unreasonable. Come to think of it, Rose was a lot like her. And wasn’t he just thinking that he could’ve been happy with her? Maybe there were just some women out there that not everyone could love—not everyone would know how. Nick wanted so much to have been able to try to be that guy for Rose. “I fall asleep every night knowing I went after the best life has got to offer and I got it,” Pat said, his voice full of conviction. “I could’ve had an easier time, but who wants easy? You didn’t strike me as a man who did. But maybe I was wrong about you.” He nodded at him. “Well, good night, and good luck on your fight.” He turned and left, leaving Nick alone.

  Pat wasn’t wrong about him. Nick treasured every ounce of sweetness and surrender he could coax from Rose because he knew she didn’t let just any guy in. He had to be worthy. He had to work for it.

  Nick wanted to work for it. He wanted to win her. All of her—good and bad. And the part of herself she held back, he wanted it to belong to him alone. That kind of cavemen thinking was probably what had her running scared, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to have her, to possess her. Not to control or stifle. But to cherish. He wanted to own her and have her own him.

  But he wouldn’t force himself on her. He knew her enough to know that would only drive her further away. She had to come to him on her own. If she was feeling even a fraction of what he was feeling then— Nick stopped himself mid-thought. That was a big “if,” and Rose never gave any indication that he was anything more than a good lay for her. He muttered a curse and headed back
to the locker room. He needed to wear himself out if he was going to get any sleep tonight.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was fight night in Vegas. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and Nick could feel the vibrations from the octagon.

  “Get your head in there,” Joe said before he entered. Nick knew what he meant. Step in the cage with none of the baggage that might weigh him down and cause him to lose focus. Contrary to what people may think, it was never the best fighter that came out of the octagon victorious. It was the best fighter that night. The littlest things—a small distraction, a nagging worry, a freshly stomped-on heart—could spell the difference between a W and a total ass-whooping. A fighter needed to get in the cage with his slate wiped clean of all that bullshit to even stand a chance.

  Yeah, he could do that. That was what he had always done. No reason he couldn’t do it tonight. It’s just another fight. And he was itching to hit something—anything, very, very badly.

  He and Big Ugly touched gloves. Big Ugly was going to hurt him, no two ways about it. He just had to hurt him more.

  The bell rang and he and big Big Ugly circled each other. His opponent landed the first punch, a hard jab to Nick’s chin. Nick stepped back and grinned. Bring it.

  ****

  Rose couldn’t believe she paid a scalper a small fortune for this torture. She watched as Nick took heavy blows and hard elbows to the head. It was only the third round. Two more to go. Nick was clearly the more accurate striker, hitting Big Ugly with beautifully executed combinations. But his bigger opponent took it all and just kept pressing forward. Nick’s defense was impeccable, he kept the fight off the ground and blocked most of the strikes and checked most of the leg kicks Big Ugly dished out. But the hits he couldn’t block clearly rocked him.

  “Man, Lucky Charms is fucking tough,” the stranger next to her exclaimed. “He should be dead by now.”