The Most Dangerous Game (Harry Styles AU)

21

-Harry

My breaths come out strong and steady. My eyes focused on the quick movements that are becoming slower with each punch directed my way.

My fist impacts my opponents jaw, making his head snap to the side. He spits out blood onto the mat, his mouth guard clearly not doing a proper job at protecting his teeth.

He doesn't waste a second in aiming for my ribs, but I easily block his approach. Same as I have all the others.

He's already lost. And he knows it.

It's a strange thing, watching your opponent as his certainty and hope fades away. Replaced by doubt. By disappointment.

You can learn so much in those first few seconds.. When you both meet in the middle of the ring, tapping your gloves together before the bell signals the first round has begun.

Is he sure of himself? Is he worried? Is the crowd already distracting him?

Boxing isn't just about being able to hit hard. It's not just about how hard you can get hit. It's being able to read your opponents weaknesses while showing none of your own.

A skill I've been determined to perfect ever since I put on my first pair of gloves. A skill that's never failed me.

I keep relatively still as he moves around the ring, keeping my eyes focused on him, blocking out the sound of the crowd of the crowd around us. I continue to turn as he circles me, shifting his weight from foot to the other.

Buying himself time to plan his next attack.

But only wearing himself out more.

When he finally darts towards me, his blue glove flying towards my face, I don't hesitate to duck down and throw my fist up into his stomach.

He buckles over, clutching it and groaning.

He dares to look up at me and it only takes one more precise hit to his left check to send him falling to the floor.

My arm is held up, the crowd cheering as I'm pronounced the winner. The winner by exactly five points.

Earning me not only the trophy but another seventy five thousand from Carter.

I'm now three hundred thousand dollars richer, with only one more fight left to go.

I squint, trying to look past the lights and into the stands. Searching for the pair of bright blue eyes that make my heart skip a beat.

But I don't find them. Not next to Carter like they usually are. Not anywhere.

She's not here. But that means she's also not with Carter.

A towel is thrown over my shoulders as Coach holds up a bucket for me to spit my mouth guard into.

"You could of taken his sorry a.ss down in the first round! Why'd you drag it out?" He questions.

"I didn't." I lie, "Had a bit of a hard time reading him. He only got in two hits anyway."

"Two hits when it should of been none." He grumbles, knowing I'm better then what I've been boxing of late.

But I can't tell him the truth. That I'm making sure to win by exactly how many points I'm told. That I'm making money off fixing my own fights. He'd drop me the second the words left my mouth.

No matter what I'm needing the money for. Who I'm needing the money for.

I step through the ropes surrounding the ring, ignoring the women that try to stop me on my way to the locker room.