Chapter 13 - Jaxon

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This is it.

This is fucking it.

My first, legitimate, fight since I've started boxing.

Am I nervous? No question.

Am I amped? Damn straight.

Will I win and have everyone know my name by the end of the match? Fuck yes.

The crowd isn't too big but for a first match, it's more than I'm used to. Having the guys at Fighter's Den being the only audience I've fought in front of, the crowd of 200 definitely hits the high mark. I'd walked in earlier a little taken by the number of people but Coach shoved me forward, telling me that this would just help my name more when I won. And though it's a small difference to catch, I was glad he said when and not if.

Sanders and I are prepping on our respective sides of the ring, just under fifteen minutes to go before the match begins.

The high I feel right now is insane. Something about the cheering and hums from the crowd lights up the adrenaline in my veins. While fighting in front of people is its own dose of nerve-wracking, it causes a rush all over my insides and my heart is pounding against my ribcage from excitement.

I was more than surprised to see a few signs that said my name on them, being held up by various onlookers in the crowd. From what I knew, the company previewing our fight had shown a snippet of my match with Nate to introduce my position in the ring. A lot of people called my career a bluff, saying that my inexperience and newbie status wouldn't last me the first round. Seeing that some of the audience was on my side definitely encouraged my level of confidence.

I warily eye Sanders, noting that the fucker looks nothing short of relaxed. He's leaning his forearms on the ropes behind him and his legs are stretched forward while his ass is happily perched on the temporary chair. He's laughing at something his Coach says and when he catches my gaze, he smirks.

I'm gonna punch that smile hard enough to set it permanently diagonal.

A thwack at the back of my head bring my focus back to Coach Resnick, who's looming over me.

"I'm gonna tell you three things you need to know if you want to win this match, Cage." He squats down in front of me, forearms resting on his knees. I kneel forward and listen intently. Because even I won't admit to myself that I'm pretty fucking nervous, excitement and adrenaline aside.

"First, don't lose your fucking cool. That's exactly what you're doing right now. All the little shit did was send you a pansy smirk and it's getting you all riled up. Control your emotions in the ring because there's no room for them. In this ring, you breathe and live fighting and fighting only. No fucking emotions." He emphasizes and my head jerks in agreement.

"Second, don't let your status deter you. I've been training you for two months Cage and though I never say it, you're easily one of the most talented assholes I've coached. Boxing comes naturally to you and I can't fathom how you've never been pushed into it before. But don't think your inexperience is your downfall. It's your number one advantage. This kid knows nothing about you, aside from that clip. He doesn't know your strongest points or weaknesses, he has no clue how you fight. But you know all there is to know about him. We've analyzed every fight this prick has fought and you know his plays like the back of your hand. You know what's coming, he doesn't. Got that?" He grunts and I can feel my confidence being slowly restored.

"And last, don't fall for the trash talk. These boneheads do it all the fucking time, especially in the ring. They're gonna say things to completely throw you off your game but don't listen to that shit for one second. In fact, if he's talking trash you take it as a good thing. It means he's not confident in his own abilities and he has to find other ways to take you down. You stand your fucking ground and don't listen to a word your opponent says. This is a match between actions only. And if he pushes too far," He pauses, smirking wickedly. "Give that fucker something to cry for."

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