Chapter 16
JAKE
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
I turned to glare at Carson. “I really do. How I let you talk me into doing a tournament… ”
“It’s just a little IBJJF tournament,” Carson said in that irritatingly cheerful way he had. “And admit it, you were tired of watching on the sidelines while everyone else competed.”
I looked back at the mat to keep from admitting that he might, maybe, kind of, have a point there.
Beth’s school wasn’t super competition-focused, but there was a contingent of students who regularly competed in the local scene.
Carson had talked me into going with him to a tournament last month, because of course he had, and it had been…
surprisingly fun. It was the first tournament I’d gone to since Abu Dhabi, but the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different.
A local IBJJF tournament, even in Vegas, was more for fun than anything serious.
There were a lot of people, a lot of matches, but very little of the ego that tended to run rampant at the higher levels.
Most of the competitors were kids out to have a good time and learn something under pressure, and most of the local coaches were great.
Honestly, the worst people in the crowd were by far the parents, one of whom stormed a mat and tried to punch a ref when his seven-year-old son was arm-barred by a cute girl in a Pokemon-themed gi.
Needless to say, that asshole was banished from the rest of that event and every other one, but for the most part…
It was fun. It was exciting to watch our students test themselves against other players and see how they applied their lessons in real-time.
Beth competed as well, dominating the women’s division so thoroughly they made her go up against women who had fifty pounds on her and she still beat them with time to spare.
Carson didn’t compete, but he was there cheering everyone on, and me… well.
Maybe it was a side effect of having a boyfriend who played professional sports for a living, maybe it was because I finally had my shit together enough not to have a panic attack at the thought, but I was able to look at the idea of competing as something other than a penance.
The only downside of it was that the tournament was on a Saturday after a Friday away game for Ethan.
We weren’t sure he was going to get here in time to see any of my matches, but Carson had promised to film the whole thing for him.
No pressure.
So yeah, I was going out on the mat today, but it wasn’t going to be a big deal. I was going to ease myself back into the swing of things, have a few friendly bouts, and not get too hung up over it.
That resolve lasted long enough for Beth to get to the women’s finals, at which point the other grappler’s coach yelled out, “Choke that fucking dyke out, Becky!” when his student tried to take Beth’s back.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t succeed.
It didn’t matter that Beth ended the match with a twister that had the other woman slapping the mat like she was trying to resuscitate it.
It didn’t matter that Beth probably took it in stride and Carson barely seemed to notice, because I noticed it.
For the first time, in my sport, I noticed a guy being both an asshole and homophobic when describing another grappler.
I noticed it because, even though as far as I knew Beth was straight, I wasn’t, and noticing that word felt like having cat claws raked down the inside of my skull.
It made me angry, mostly at that piece of work but also at myself, because I should have noticed this shit sooner.
Noticed it and said or done something about it.
However, it seemed like today was my lucky day.
“Hey.” I tapped Carson’s elbow. “That guy with the purple stripe on his gi, is he competing?”
He glanced where I was pointing. “Oh, Waylon? Yeah, he’s in the men’s super-heavyweight. He won the last two tournaments in his division, I think.”
Ah. He was one weight class up. “I’m going to re-register in his class.”
“You’re going to—” Carson’s confusion cleared almost immediately. “Dude, you don’t have to do that. Jackasses are everywhere. And Beth doesn’t need a knight in shining armor, even if he’s as shiny as you. Right?” he said to Beth as she joined us, looking annoyed.
“Waylon is a piece of shit,” she snapped.
“Um.” Carson seemed taken aback. “Okay, but—”
“Becky Ramirez is his best student,” she continued, “and she’s a lesbian. How do you think he makes her feel when he says things like that?”
“Why stick with him, then?” I asked.
Beth rolled her eyes. “Her whole family goes to that gym. I invite her over to ours every time I see her, but she doesn’t feel like she can switch without upsetting the apple cart. It’s bullshit, that’s what it is.”
I glanced over at Becky, who was being dressed down something fierce by her coach. She was crying and trying not to show it, and all of a sudden I felt beyond motivated.
I was going to grapple this guy, and I was going to beat him.
With flare.
Getting into a higher weight class with my experience level wasn’t difficult.
It meant waiting a little longer to get rolling, but I spent my time watching the last of the youth matches with Carson and cheering on our kids.
They did well overall, a couple of them finishing first for their divisions and full-on half of them finishing on the podium, including the littlest ones, which…
I’m sorry, but if you’d never seen five-and-six-year-olds doing jiu jitsu, you were missing out.
Their matches were very closely monitored to make sure everyone stayed safe, but they were some of the kindest grapplers out there, and there was something incredibly cute about watching two people who didn’t even stand as high as my hip trying to take each other down.
The intense adorableness helped distract me from the fact that I was about to step onto the mat with the end goal of making someone else submit to me as fast as possible.
It wasn’t like teaching, where I could tap someone out in the process of helping them learn. These guys might learn something, or hell, they might teach me something, but the purpose was domination. It was winning. And the last time I’d been desperate to win…
“Hey.” Carson grabbed my shoulder as my first match was called. “You’ve got this, all right? Ready body… ”
“Ready mind.”
The ritual helped, and as I shook out my nerves and stepped onto the mat, he added, “And this is being recorded for posterity, so kick some ass!”
Thanks, Carson.
But the idea of Ethan watching this later was pretty inspiring, I had to admit.
I wanted him to look at it and know that I wasn’t just making shit up—I knew what I was doing.
I wanted him to be proud of the fact that I was his boyfriend, that I could put my money where my mouth was.
And… yeah, fine, I wanted him to maybe have a few impure thoughts when he watched me choke someone out with my thighs. So I needed to do that.
Do your best, and get it done.
My first match was with an older guy who probably should have been competing in the Master’s level, but the numbers were too sparse for that this time around.
He was heavy through the middle, but moved with the kind of ease that showed he knew how to use it.
I knew right away that letting him get on top of me would be a mistake; he had a dangerous amount of leverage and seemed strong enough to back it up, so I needed to start aggressively and then run down his stamina bar.
I went for a double-leg, but was rebuffed pretty fast and almost ended up flat on my face thanks to a sprawl.
My next takedown attempt was more conservative, a simple ankle pick, but it got him down.
With his legs between us, I managed to maneuver him into headquarters, but he was making it damn hard to pass to the side.
Fine, then I’ll go over the top.
I let go of my grip on his gi pants and set my hands down next to his head, floating all my weight on his legs.
Then I pivoted my hips and rolled off to the side, neatly passing his guard and landing in a nice, tight side mount position.
From there, it was a war of points and attrition until almost the end of the round, when I tapped him out with a shoulder lock.
“Nice job,” he said with a little wince as we got up and shook hands.
“You too,” I said. “You’re dangerous, man.”
“I don’t know about that, but at least I made you work for it.”
As I walked off the mat, I waited to be hit with a wave of relief. I’d done it—I’d gone back on the mat after over a year away. I’d faced my fear, and I’d won. But I didn’t feel relief at all. Instead, all I felt was anticipation.
“Dude, awesome!” Carson was almost bounding up and down. “You ready for the next one?”
I spit my mouthguard into my hand and grinned. “Bring it on.”
My second round went a lot faster. My opponent was a few years younger than me and more of a wrestler than a jiu jitsu player. I let him take me down, then rolled him, got him in a north-south choke, and tapped him out in under a minute.
I had a bye round next, and it was then that I caught sight of the person I’d been dying to see since he left on Thursday.
“Ethan!” I raised my hand when I saw him meandering the edges of the mats, looking confused. “Hey!”
He saw me and headed over fast. “How do you find anything in here?” he asked as he reached us. “There are so many mats and no maps.”
“Ask a ref next time,” I said. “Or the announcers should know.” I had to fight to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss. I didn’t want to lose my focus, but… I reached out and took his hand. There. That felt better.
Ethan smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “How’s it going?”
“Good so far.” I walked him through my first few matches, then pointed at Waylon, who was working to sink a triangle on his opponent. “I’m hoping to be in the final with him.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserves it.”
I got my wish, too. Waylon won his round by submission, and then it was him and me.
He got five minutes for recovery, and I got five minutes to think about how I wanted this to go.
I might not know his weaknesses, but I knew my own strengths, and I had a game plan from every position.
I’d watched both his rounds, and he liked upper-body throws.
Fine, then. I’d overextend him and see how he enjoyed it.
We met in the middle and shook hands. “You’re Beth’s new guy, huh?” Waylon looked at me like I was dirty. “You don’t look quite big enough for this division. Better be careful you don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
I nodded, because if I spoke I’d probably start calling him a bunch of names that would get me thrown out of the tournament. We separated, the timer dinged, and he charged, ready to use his lower center of gravity to hurl me into the air as soon as he got his hands on me.
It was a textbook setup for a Yoko Wakare.
I let him take my collar but evaded the arm grab, took hold of his gripping arm, and slid sideways and under him in a sacrifice move that put me, and all my weight, on the ground.
I dragged him down with me, hard enough that he flipped midair to keep from dislocating his shoulder.
He hit the mat with a slap that echoed through the room, and I immediately got him in a seat belt, worked to a back take, and then maneuvered my way into a triangle from the rear that put his red, shiny face on display for everyone to take in as I slowly cranked the choke, millimeter by millimeter, until he tapped.
I beat him in under a minute, and it felt fucking good.
He didn’t shake my hand at the end of the match, just gave me with a flat stare before walking off. Fine—he didn’t have to be a good sport about it, like I didn’t have to give a shit what he thought when I walked off the mat and finally pulled my boyfriend into the kiss I’d been desperate for.
“Holy shit,” Ethan said when we separated. “That was so cool! What was that move? Can you teach it to me?”
“I don’t think it would be legal on the ice,” I said.
“Good point,” he replied. “Still, that was awesome. I knew you were good at this, I just… it’s different seeing it in person. So, um, are you done? Can you be done here now?” Because I’ve got a lot of ideas for other things we could be doing, he didn’t say out loud, but I could see it in his eyes.
Carson, meanwhile, was laughing so hard he’d gone silent. Beth rolled her eyes at him but grinned at me. “We’ll make sure all the students are taken care of,” she told me. “Good job out there, Jake, you made us proud.”
Aw, crap. I had to clear my throat a few times to reply. “Thanks, Beth.” I was proud of me, too, even more so because I’d won in a way I could be proud of, against someone I was happy to take down a notch.
Now all I needed was Ethan in bed and dinner, in that order. Or… no, shower first.
Definitely shower first.