Chapter Eleven
Rehearsal
Vince
He never replied. Which made me fucking furious.
I knew he’d got the text. And read it. I’d even seen the three little dots appear as he started typing back, before they vanished and no response ever came through.
I’d known there was a good chance he wouldn’t want to talk about what had happened between us, but I’d expected something back. It had been the perfect opportunity for him to apologise for what he’d done in our match, or at the very least acknowledge that I’d saved his ass when I hadn’t had to.
But no. Nothing. Crossbody was too fucking good for that, apparently.
Arrogant, insufferable prick.
I regretted ever sending him that message now, even if it did make me the bigger person. I couldn’t believe I’d actually apologised to that asshole.
I’d just been feeling off since that night. Guilty about the things I’d said to him in the heat of the moment. Again. Calling him desperate. Pathetic. A slut.
He’d responded to it all at the time like he loved it, but that didn’t make it okay. Degradation wasn’t just something you pulled out on a whim during sex. Not without talking about it beforehand and making sure the other person was even into it.
I mean, I knew he was. I’d seen it for myself. Twice now. But still. It wasn’t appropriate.
Well, I told myself as I got to work on Wednesday morning, I’ve apologised for it, and if he won’t speak to me, there’s nothing else I can do. It’s not like it’ll ever happen again.
I knew we were rehearsing today, and I refused to let myself get nervous about it. Corey would be overseeing our practices again, so it wasn’t like either of us could bring up anything. Clearly, Crossbody wanted to just pretend that it had never happened. Which was fine with me. I wanted that too, and now my conscience was clear.
Kind of.
—
We didn’t end up rehearsing until late afternoon, because Hogbody spent the morning training the wrestlers who’d be performing on Saturday.
I wished Holt had scheduled our match for an earlier show so we could just get it over and done with. I was going to be tense all fucking weekend, just waiting for Sunday night to be over.
Even though the rehearsal went fine—uneventful once again, thanks to Corey’s keen eyes on us—I was still apprehensive. A part of me couldn’t stop wondering if Crossbody was going to pull the same stunt again, consequences be damned, because Holt had been extremely clear about me actually winning this time.
Evidently, Hogbody had similar concerns, because when we finally wrapped up our rehearsal just before six, he shot us both a threatening look as we wiped the sweat off our brows and gulped down water, standing as far apart as possible in the ring.
“If you two pull the same fucking stunt as last week, changing up the outcome without consulting anyone, I will get in that goddamn ring and beat both your asses myself. For real. At the same time.” He puffed out his barrel chest. “I’ve still got it in me.”
“I don’t doubt it, coach,” Corey said, raising his brow at us as he stood beside the ring with his arms crossed. “You’re both on thin ice. I’ve never seen Holt this… vexed. And he really doesn’t need this stress, you two. Not with the new talent arriving soon.”
I clenched my jaw, staying silent. This was Crossbody’s fucking fault. I’d done nothing wrong, but because I’d opened my stupid mouth and for some unknown fucking reason decided to help him out, I was getting blamed for the bullshit he’d pulled last week.
And he hadn’t even thanked me.
Prick.
“We need harmony,” Corey continued, spreading his arms wide and exhaling a slow breath. “A united front, and a welcoming atmosphere for our new wrestlers. I refuse to let their first impression of us be this…” He gestured at us vaguely. “Tension. This animosity.”
“Well, it’s not like we’ll be speaking to each other,” I said flatly. “So they won’t notice.”
“But they will.” Corey nodded emphatically. “Two co-workers in such a small, close-knit group purposefully avoiding each other? It will be very apparent.”
“It’s what you told us to do,” Crossbody said, voice and posture both wooden.
Corey sighed. “I know, but I’ve been thinking about my ruling. I’m big enough to admit when I might be… slightly off-base. I think another solution is needed.”
We both stiffened. I reluctantly asked, “What?”
“I’m just getting my affairs in order before I commit to it,” he said airily, which did not make me feel any better. “I’ll come to you both with my idea soon. After I’ve taken it to Holt.”
Crossbody tensed even more. “Corey…”
“Don’t worry, darling. It’s nothing bad .” He gave us a winsome smile. “I think it’ll be very beneficial, actually. For all of us. You know me—full of ideas on how to make Goliaths an even more wonderful place to work. I just can’t help myself.” He laughed lightly, with faux self-deprecation. “Anyway, well done today. A good rehearsal. I’m performing in drag tonight, so I have to get going. You know how long it takes me to get ready.”
As he swept out of the room, Hogbody snorted irritably and pointed a stubby, threatening finger at us.
“No fucking bullshit this time. And for fuck’s sake, like I’ve already goddamn said, add some fucking spunk to it. You’re even stiffer than you were last week.”
I shifted in discomfort, steadfastly keeping my gaze away from Crossbody.
I really wished Hogbody would stop bringing up spunk.
Now I was picturing Crossbody’s leanly muscled stomach and chest covered in mine. His pale mauve skin streaked in white as he panted beneath me, soft and pliant and sated.
I jerked my head sharply to get rid of the image, which made Hogbody shoot me an odd look as he clamped his teeth around his cigar and shuffled toward the door.
“Are you going to fucking behave this week?” he barked.
I sighed. “Yes, coach.”
“Yes,” Crossbody muttered.
“Good. Because my wife’s made her chicken parm tonight, and if I come home stressed and can’t enjoy my favourite goddamn meal that she spent all afternoon making, she will be the one marching in here to beat both your asses.” He yanked his cigar out of his mouth and pointed it as us as he paused by the door. “Put the fucking work in and make this match a success to make up for the shitshow last week.”
Uncomfortable silence fell as he left, the door swinging shut behind him. No one else was in the room. I was pretty sure most people had already headed home.
I was acutely aware that I was suddenly alone with Crossbody for the first time since his dressing room. I should have been scrambling to leave as fast as possible—so should he—but we were both just… standing there. At opposite ends of the ring. In silence. Not looking at each other.
“Uh, I guess… Do you want to keep practising, then?” I heard myself mutter awkwardly, and I had no idea why. We’d have time to practise during work hours, and we weren’t supposed to interact without Corey around to make sure we didn’t just start arguing again.
It wasn’t like I wanted to spend more time than I had to with Crossbody, but Hogbody was right—we were both stiff and clinical, even more uncomfortable than we had been rehearsing for our previous match. If we didn’t practise until we were flawless, it would be an even worse mess.
And we were on thin ice, Corey had said. Holt was vexed.
For Holt, that was a pretty big deal.
I fully expected Crossbody to sneer and sweep out of the room at my suggestion, so I was shocked when he muttered, “Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeated after a pause, because I didn’t really know what to say.
And I was suddenly realising what this meant. Getting up close and personal with him, touching him, writhing around on the mat with him while there was no one else around.
Things had gone in a… certain direction the last two times we’d been alone, and we hadn’t even been wrestling then.
“Let’s go to the main ring,” I blurted, already climbing under the ropes and landing on the floor.
Crossbody hesitated, but followed. “Why?”
I didn’t want to say why. Because the arena was big and cold and echoey. Less intimate. A professional setting, not the place we all, except him, relaxed and hung out.
The arena wasn’t somewhere that held memories of Crossbody sucking my dick so good my knees almost buckled. This room did. Just a handful of steps away, in fact.
I didn’t bother to answer him, and surprisingly, he didn’t push. Maybe he was remembering the same thing. Neither of us spoke as we walked down the stairs to the arena’s side entrance. I flicked on the switch for the spotlights above the ring, but when we walked into the vast room, it was cold and mostly dark. And completely empty.
Not that that made a difference. We’d both proven by this point that we could remain professional during rehearsals, so it wasn’t like there was any risk of… anything. It didn’t matter whether there were people around. I was just saying, there weren’t. There was no one around. We were still alone.
We still hadn’t said a word by the time I lifted the top rope to duck underneath and climb into the ring, while Crossbody flew up into the air and landed gracefully in the centre.
I hadn’t realised just how much of a buffer Corey’s presence was until now, because this was awkward as fuck. But I’d committed. I’d suggested it, and I’d look like a tool—and a coward—if I suddenly changed my mind.
Straightening my shoulders in determination, I turned to face him. He had his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face, but I could see how tense he was.
“Alright,” I said, making sure my tone was hard and forthright. “So when I say the thing about taking you down this time, you throw your mic to the left and come at me with a scoop slam.”
He dipped his chin in a stiff nod.
“Then we move into a cloverleaf.” I shook out my hands and widened my stance, wanting to get this over with. “Let’s go.”
I saw Crossbody’s throat bob with a swallow. Slowly, he unfolded his arms and walked closer until he was right in front of me, because this would be our starting position after getting in each other’s faces during the smack-talk.
I looked up at him, making sure my face was devoid of any emotion. He didn’t move at first, staring down at me. My gut twisted when his gaze flittered down to my mouth, before he tightened his jaw and abruptly ducked, shoving his head under my armpit and wrapping an arm around my back, while the other reached between my legs to grip the back of my shorts. In a split second, he’d lifted me upside down into the air and slammed me onto the mat.
My heart started racing, beating faster than it ever did during a rehearsal. Maybe even a live match. Crossbody moved to my feet and grabbed my legs for a cloverleaf, hoisting them into the air before twisting me around so my chest was pressed into the mat and he was above me, squatting over my back.
On the night, I’d pretend he was flexing my spine to the point of agony, but for now, I nodded and said, “Okay, good.”
He released me immediately, stepping over me as I got to my knees. “Of course it’s good. I know what I’m doing.”
I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes.
After we’d run through each of the moves we’d be performing, we started putting them together, making sure we flowed seamlessly from one to the next. When we got to the Rim Jab as the big finisher—what should have happened last week—we both tensed up.
“Look, I know this is…” I stopped with a huff and scrubbed my face roughly, then dropped my hands to look at him. “I’m not going to do it now, but I’ll show you the cue again just to remind you.”
His face tightened. At length, he gave me a stiff nod and reluctantly turned his back on me, getting into position facing the corner post. His shoulders were tense, fingers flexing by his sides.
I stepped as close as necessary and cleared my throat.
“Obviously I don’t actually…” I cleared my throat again and hesitated before reaching down to tap his right ass cheek. I heard Crossbody’s breath catch as his shoulders hunched. “You’ll feel my tongue touch you here. Just the tip. For a split second. Just so you know when to react.”
“Fine.”
“And you stumble forward into the post, smack your head on it and lurch back.” I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “I get you into an inverted facelock and drop us both, then pin you.”
“I know,” he snapped, whirling around to glare at me.
I glared right back, my frustration rising. “Yeah? And are you actually going to let it happen this time?”
“Yes,” he snarled. “Of course I am.”
I laughed brashly. “Excuse me for not trusting you a fucking inch, Crossbody. You haven’t even said sorry for that bullshit last week.”
An angry flush bloomed in his cheeks. “Yes, I did.”
“You also haven’t fucking thanked me for saving your stupid ass,” I snarled, getting in his face, my temper exploding when I remembered just how shittily he’d dealt with this whole situation.
“I didn’t ask you to help me. I was prepared to deal with the consequences.”
“Jesus Christ, you are such an ungrateful prick,” I gritted out. “Too fucking arrogant to just thank me and own up to your fucking part in this. No, not your part—you’re responsible for all of it. It’s all your fucking fault, yet I’m still getting blamed as well.”
“I didn’t ask you to take any of the blame,” he snarled. “So why the fuck did you?”
“Trust me, asshole, I’m regretting it.”
“Is your ego really so fragile that you need me to thank you for something I didn’t even ask you to do?” He sneered, then sarcastically drawled, “Thank you so much, Vince, for being such a big person. I’m sure everyone thinks you’re just amazing for not letting me take the fall on my own.”
“God, I can’t fucking stand you.” I backed away from him and stretched out my tight neck. “Let’s just run through it one last time so we can leave and I don’t have to look at you anymore.”
“Gladly,” he snapped, his huge wings folding together tight before shrinking down and vanishing. I frowned in confusion, wondering why he’d done that. I knew most fae could retract their wings even in their natural forms, but Crossbody never did. He loved people looking at them, cooing over how stunning they were.
I realised why he’d done it a split second later as he crouched and launched himself at me, barely giving me time to prepare.
I grunted at the impact as he barrelled into me and slammed me onto my back, rage making my vision go red. He hadn’t even performed the scoop slam that started our match. He’d just taken me down. This wasn’t a rehearsal anymore. This was just him trying to overpower me.
Fuck this. Fuck him.
If that was the way he wanted to play this, then fine. If he wanted to wrestle for real, in an attempt to make himself feel big and powerful, then fine.
I’d wrestle him for real.
And I’d fucking win.