Grey Waters

33: Greyson

Soooo... we're just going to pretend that you can randomly get a private plane at 1:30 in the morning because I didn't think the whole him flying back from Vegas in the middle of the night thing through that well lol. I rushed through writting this chapter bc I like u guys and I'm really nice and I decided I'd put you out of you misery and give you another chapter hehehehe;)

I've been in Vegas for less than 24 hours and I already want to leave. It was hard enough leaving and having to lie to Kennedy about it, add the stress of what this trip could mean for my future and everything that's riding on it, I'm surprised I haven't had a fucking panic attack yet.

When my Uber pulls up outside of Xtreme Couture, and I honestly can't believe I'm here, at one of the best MMA gyms in the country, by invitation. But for some reason it doesn't feel as good as I always thought it would.

In the lobby, the receptionist tells me to wait for a moment, so I pull out my phone and start to respond to Kennedy's text I got this morning asking where my vacuum is, which she followed up with "don't worry though I didn't break anything important..." and "was that framed picture above the hallway table important?"

Not really. Just a signed phone of Muhammad Ali that I waited in line for for 6 hours when I was 15.

I shake my head, more annoyed at myself than I am with her because I'm not even mad.

I delete the first two messages I type out, feeling like a fucking idiot, and before I can send the text I decide doesn't make me sound like a complete and utter pussy, the double doors to my right open and out walks Randy Couture. I try to muster up a smile, but I actually kind of hate him for not giving me enough time to talk to Kennedy.

"Greyson Kingsley. It's nice to finally meet you." We shake hands and he takes me on a tour of the facility and introduces me to a few of his fighters. "I know this was bad timing with Thanksgiving and all, but I had an opening and wanted to get you done here as soon as possible to see if you'd be a good fit."

The gyms got the nicest equipment I've ever seen and the rings are all spotless and new. We watch a couple guys soaring while we talk technical stuff and then he leads me to his office.

"So I understand you're graduating early, right? So you'd be ready to start training as early as January?"

It's the first time I've heard anyone say it, and it hits me that I'll be graduating in just over a month. I'll be moving to Vegas in just over a month.

"Yeah, that's right." I ignore the tightness in my chest.

"And do you plan on moving out here right away?"

"Yes." I say it without hesitation, but a part of me hopes it's not true.

"Good, because I can have your first fight booked as early as February. It won't be anything crazy, and probably against a nobody in the league, but it'll be a good example of what the professional fighting scene offers."

February. Two months.

"Okay."

The guilt of not having told Kennedy my plans yet sits like a rock in my stomach no matter how many times I tell myself I don't need to tell her anything, she's not my girlfriend.

But the thing that keeps me from believing it is that I want her to be my girlfriend—I basically already treat her like she is. I'm achieving everything I've ever worked towards, but I honestly couldn't care less.

••

I spend the next three days training at Xtreme and trying to convince myself that this is what I want. I've work my entire life to get this opportunity. I'm not going to fuck it up now.