Author's Note: This is the first chapter of a slow-burn novel that explores deep themes of physical and sexual violence/assault, somewhat graphic violence, drugs (drugging, drug abuse, addiction), as well as political commentary that could be offensive to some. The story is based 100% in fantasy, and doesn't claim to represent the true environment of UNC by any measure. (I needed a good classic campus to hammer the themes home, and I'm familiar with the area.)
I rode the high of winning my first wrestling state championship in my senior year of high school, after coming so close but so catastrophically suffocating under the pressure of wrestling on a mat in a college arena. I took that high through lacrosse season, where we also brought home our first state championship in a decade. My name appeared in several hallways along with an uneven smile dotted by a silver tooth that shone from the back of my mouth when the light hit it just right. I had been scouted pretty heavily by universities across the Southeast. A few men from Penn State showed up to my state championships, but I didn’t take them up on an offer which would have lowballed me into debt.
Adrenaline pumped through my body on my way back to the locker room, several people tried to approach me after I slinked away from the overwhelming amount of people and family, and family friends, and friends of family friends, who all were here to support me. It was nice and all, but not necessarily the most comfortable hugging a group of people in a singlet wet with an ambrosia of sweat, my opponent’s drool, and lingering disinfectant from the wrestling mats. Their presence made everything in the arena somehow even stuffier, as if it weren’t enough that a midwinter cold snap sent the heating system into overdrive so kids were dropping to the low end of their weight class between weigh-ins and the time they stepped up to the mat. I slick my sweaty hair back behind my ears when a young man, not much older than I am, rounds the corner and meets my pace.
“I’m Carter. I’m a Junior at UNC, and you’ve caught my eye.” He’s covered in light blue gear marked with UNC’s logo splattered across at least some portion of everything he’s wearing.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, while I continue walking towards the locker room.
“Would you be interested in coming to Chapel Hill to see what our program has to offer?”
“If I were to go to Chapel Hill, I’d go to play lacrosse.”
“I’m sure they’ve heard about you, if you’d like me to put you in contact.”
“I appreciate it, I do, but can we maybe talk about this once I’ve gotten changed.” I use this line on most of the recruiters who swarmed me immediately after I stepped off the mat. I just wanted to see my mom and celebrate with my teammates, but I felt barricaded until my coach pushed everyone aside and let me get to them. I turn into the locker room, assuming that Carter wouldn’t follow me, but he persists through the double doors.
“You’d be a star, bro.” He stands by the door and I turn around to face him. It feels good to have a stud like him trying to get my attention, but I don’t like being pressed.
“Why are you in here?” I cross my arms and turn to face him.
“Because you’re gonna be worth it.”
“You got like, maybe a minute, before other wrestlers get in here to change, and you shouldn’t be in here.”
“All I need is a minute,” he runs his fingers over his golden mustache.
I raise an eyebrow but raise my chin slightly.
“We’ve been trying to lock you down for nearly a year and you have dozens of schools coming after you for wrestling and lacrosse– why haven’t you committed yet?”
“I want to keep my options open.”
“I see, I see. Well, you’ve got that wrestler mindset.”
“I’d hope.”
He smiles with his eyes but his face shifts and his jaw tenses slightly. “It shows outside wrestling, too. You’re holding off because you want to be smart about your choice– that’s fair. But also because you’re indecisive and immature.”
“Oh really?” A wry smile pulls across my cheeks and I bite my bottom lip to keep words from spilling out prematurely.
“You’re good because your opponent can’t predict you, and because you’re strong and agile. You don’t have game mentality. Your moves are fast, but sometimes they’re sloppy and they don’t fall like you want them to. That’s why you lost the championship last year, and the year before, and the year before. Your opponent figured out how to read you, and you finally think you figured it out now that you get to relish in your championship.”
“You’re contradicting yourself.”
“A wrestler’s mindset isn’t a game mentality. Imagine how damn unstoppable you’d be if you had both. You were inches away from being spladled today, too. You almost lost.” Carter steps further into the locker room while I turn and begin to grab shit out of my locker. “Three years to the same guy, almost. You’re one-and-two against him. You may be the state champion now, but he’s still better than you.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say.
“Is it? You’ve had all of these other scouts trying to suck you off and kiss your ass just to get you, and you still can’t say yes to them. Let’s be realistic, Cameron. Any competent college wrestler with a year of experience can pick up on your patterns.”
“You’re not gonna get my interest, if that’s what you want right now.”
“I don’t need your interest. I already have your attention.” He smirks as the remaining few wrestlers come into the locker room and grab their things.
“Well.” I look around. “You’re out of time.”
Carter approaches me with even steps and an even gaze. “Meet me back in this room in 20 minutes.”
Before I respond, he nods firmly and my eyes trace his face almost entranced by how well he gets under my skin. His face softens while he walks out the door at the same pace he caught me with.
I weigh my options unfairly as my insatiable need for recognition takes over my mind. I conclude quickly that I need to humiliate this man to the concrete walls around me to satisfy my ego. I finally unclench my jaw and loosen my fists enough to loop my fingers through the shoulder straps of my singlet. I strip down and throw my headgear onto the bench. They slide off into a puddle of room-temperature water and I sigh. I watch my reflection ripple as I bend over and grab my headgear, running my fingers over a large scratch that extends from the corner of my eye to the dimple in my cheek. The slice protests the grit and dirt on my fingers by sending searing warmth across my face. I wipe my face with my towel and manage to text my mom to tell her that I was planning to go out to celebrate with some friends and that she and the rest of my family shouldn’t wait up. I read her message to myself in her voice, trailing off at the end to reflect her disappointment that I’d rather celebrate with my friends than with her as if she won’t absolutely flaunt my achievements for the rest of her life. It’s a weird combination of incessancy and fondness like the alarm you choose because it sounds the best, and now it pushes your heart into arrhythmia every time it sounds.
Now that I’m not in a rush to see my family, I let my mind elate under the warm water that slowly begins cutting through the sweat and oil built up from nearly seven hours in a dry sauna and lycra that seems to wring the sweat out of my body. The locker room empties out while I reflect on the day, and the rest of the wrestlers avoid the showers altogether. I chip the dried soap off of the mouth of the stained shampoo container mounted a few shower heads down, and lather myself thoroughly before I return to the warmth of the water.
I wrap my towel around my waist and peer out of the showers to make sure that the locker room has cleared out. I drop my towel and begin working it through my hair, down my shoulders, between my legs, and around my thighs.
“It’s been twenty minutes.”
I startle, my heart nearly escapes my chest and I look up to see Carter standing by the doors again. “Goddamn bro. Privacy.” I mutter.
He leans against the corner of the door frame while it clings shut behind him. “Your mind clear?”
“Perfectly,” I reply, pulling on a pair of shorts just to cover up.
“Good. You’re not done wrestling today.”
“Stop being cryptic. You wanted to try to read me for five minutes and now you’re not revealing anything.”
“Get your singlet back on.”
“Why?”
“You wanna act like a hot shot, you’re gonna have to prove you deserve the ego.”
Carter walks down the row of lockers in front of me, and he reappears with a white singlet adorned with the classic Carolina Rameses. I laugh, crossing my arms over my puffed chest.
“There’s no way this is happening.”
“You listened when I told you to change.” He gestures at my singlet, now grabbing uncomfortably against my wet skin.
My lips cinch and my head sways slightly to mirror the game of tug-of-war which I seem doomed to lose against such smooth words. Carter’s eyes flicker, amused, but he doesn’t reveal much else. I trail him out of the locker room into the empty gym, now only lit by buzzing standby lights and the faint glow of the late afternoon sun in high windows. Carter kicks off his shoes and steps onto the mat. His toes dig into the foam. He exhales, then turns to me, his face hard and eyes dark. He invites me onto the mat where he traces his right foot along the boundary line and redirects his gaze downward.
I rock my weight from my heels to the balls of my feet and crouch, sinking down to guard my body. I focus on controlling my breathing, grounding myself enough to feel the blood pouring through my limbs.
“You’re already playing defense.”
“You’re like, at least twenty pounds heavier than I am.” I counter.
“And you’re a state champion. If you’re worthy, I haven’t found that out yet.”
Every time he speaks, his words lace around my mind to taunt my resolve. “What’s your mission?”
“Why are you just now asking?” Carter flashes a smile. He takes a jab step in, then slowly shuffles to the center of the mat, already dominating the space.
I cough up a laugh tinged by the heaviness of the air. Carter takes another jab step, this time directly at me while I circle him.
“I’m gonna let you make the first move. I’m not the one who has to prove myself.”
I bite immediately, lunging my hands around the back of Carter’s knees. He sprawls over me immediately to shift my balance, but I roll out from under him and sweep around to the back of his legs as his weight falls forward. I try to lock my arms around his chest, but Carter reacts quicker than I expected. With a swift twist, he ducks under my grasp, using my momentum against me to drive me to the ground. Carter secures his thick arms around my waist and lifts me off the mat. His chest supports my weight while I try to pry his arms loose.
I wrap one of my arms haphazardly around the nape of his neck, shifting my weight to try to cause him to fall back, but his weight tightens while he widens his stance. He squeezes the air out of me mercilessly like a python. Carter drives me to the mat with a sharp thud. My breath catches in my throat before it escapes me catastrophically, coupled with an eruptive grunt. I roll onto my side, but Carter slides his body quickly into place on top of me. He holds me steady for a moment while his hands probe for leverage against my slippery body. His meticulous movement keeps me muzzled despite how hard my muscles demand their freedom. The pressure mounts, and despite my attempts to fight, he pushes my shoulders down to the ground easily.
My concession comes slowly, but eventually, I allow my body to relax. I still struggle to draw a full breath until he rises off me. He extends a hand and a small, but knowing smile which reflects a silent lopsided acknowledgment of his dominance. I sit up with my hands in my lap.
“I thought it would be harder,” he chirps. “Next time, though, don’t leave your chest wide open. It may be easy to swallow a guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing, but I’m not that guy.”
“I wasn’t set.” I stand up, peel my singlet off of my skin, and let it slap back into place.
Carter turns back to me, his shoulders swaying before he straightens out and fixes his eyes on mine. “You weren’t set,” he repeats to see how the words taste on his own lips before they curl back up into his devilishly attractive smile. The sandy blond waves of his hair now flow down onto his forehead. “You were going to lose the moment you stepped onto the mat with the mindset of a loser.”
My mind begins to unravel and I run at Carter. Before I can stop myself, I charge at Carter, tackling him to the corner of the mat. I wrap my legs around his rippling abs, trying to crush him, but his reaction is precise. With a swift shift of his weight, he uses his weight to spin my hips around, the torque enough to slam me down on my back. The pain that shoots through my body is more acute this time, my body still trying to recover from our last match. Carter straddles me and flexes his biceps before he pushes his hands against my forearms and presses my arms over my head to lock me in place. Every inch I try to move is met with two that he takes. My chapped lips part, I clench my jaw while he slides up and sits on my chest.
“Zero to three.”
“Three?”
“Yeah, buddy,” Carter huffs. “You were the stud freshman who finally got humbled by a man who knew what he was doing. Good to see nothing’s changed. I owned you then and I own you now.”
I rack my brain for any memory until it all floods through my dilated pupils. The spinning thoughts make me dizzy and uneasy to my stomach while my eyes refocus on Carter’s thick eyebrows. Even the drop of sweat that falls onto my bottom lip seems calculated. I try to buck him off of me, but he tightens his thighs around my ribcage. He leans over me again. “I own you.”
“Get the fuck off of me.”
Carter smiles and presses his sweaty bulge against my chin before he dismounts me. “You’re not gonna get any better training than from a coach who coaches men who can dominate you.”
My face burns as I hop up to my feet. “Why the fuck would I want to even consider a coach who sent someone I hated for years to try to recruit me?”
“A smart coach who knows that losing a match shouldn’t make you hate someone.”
“That’s fucking bullshit. Rivalry motivates every wrestler.”
“But you gotta be able to win with a level mind, Cameron.” Carter pulls his singlet down around his waist, revealing a torso sculpted by years of relentless training and domination on the mat. Shadows carve deep under his pecs and tight abs, each muscle defined under his smooth skin. The faint sheen of sweat ripples across his arms as they flex subtly while he rolls them out, the shifting shadows accentuating the ridges of his biceps and deep cuts of his triceps. He pinches the sweat off the bridge of his nose and looks back up at me. I rest my hands on my hips.
“You’re staring,” he notes.
I adjust my gaze onto the blurry fluorescent digital clock on the wall at the other side of the gym. “Now you’re avoiding me.”
“You criticize every single little thing I do.”
“That’s what I’m here to do. That’s the entire point of being a scout. We criticize so we can build you up and refine you.” Carter signals me in. He gets onto all fours in the center of the mat and tucks the loose straps of his singlet under themselves. “You’re riding. Maintain it.”
I straddle his muscular back and lock my thighs on his hips, then I drive my hips forward to destabilize him.
“Good. What are you doing wrong right now?”
I slide my hands down from his lower forearm to his wrists. Carter nods.
“Good. Is that a correction you often make?”
“Not really. I don’t need to.”
“You might not need to in every match, but when you realize you do it’s almost certainly too late.”
I nod. Carter’s breath comes in short bursts as he directs me, providing slight opposition but not necessarily trying to shake me off.
“The smallest adjustment– or mistake in your weight distribution– can make the biggest difference,” he continues, voice steady but firm. “You can’t wait until you falter to think about what went wrong, especially not if you’re gonna be an indecisive wrestler. You can be good at that style, but you absolutely cannot make simple technical mistakes.”
He bends forward to redistribute my weight further up on his back. I brace myself against his massive shoulders, wrapping one of my forearms under his armpit to try to destabilize him. “You’re plenty strong, but I’m stronger.” Carter rolls on his shoulder and pulls my body over his until I’m lying on my back. I gasp, the sudden momentum leaves me disoriented while Carter pushes his weight onto my chest.
“Control isn’t just about your power, Cameron. You gotta know when to use it.” His voice is still calm. “You’ve got the strength and the quickness, but you need to be more reactive. “Just remember that it’s not always about winning the fight itself– it’s winning the position for just long enough to get the points.”
I pull in a deep breath through narrow lips. I reset my stance and look up at Carter, whose eyes are still locked on me. He assesses every single movement, waiting for me to make my next mistake. I circle him, testing the heavy air between us while I swat next to his head. I force a half-jab step before I rock back and circle again. Carter doesn’t flinch nor does he blink. He keeps his body perfectly still but he tracks me like a predator. “What are you waiting for?” His voice slices through the thoughts in my mind. I hesitate for a second, then lunge forward in an attempt to gain control. Carter’s reaction is immediate. He sidesteps, twists my arm, and spins me onto my back. My breath rushes out as the unfaithful mat meets my shoulders again.
“How do you think so much but can’t bring a single decision to settle on? You have instinct. Use it.” Carter gives me his hand and pulls me up to my feet. His pecs rise and fall hypnotically with each breath. I roll my shoulders back and shake my arms to loosen my muscles. Carter steps forward and closes the space between us. My pulse spikes– not necessarily from fear or intimidation, but the mounting frustration in my body that radiates as heat through my head.
“Let’s go, Cameron.”
I nod, pushing aside my bruised ego in front of a man taking advantage of my tired body to prove a point that holds weight regardless of whether or not I admit it. My legs coil with tension, my throat knotted while I debate myself. Carter has reduced me to a vacillator stuck questioning every single aspect of the empire that culminated today. I nod again slowly, trying to be my own hype man.
This time, I try to set my mind. I feint left, which forces him to adjust, then I pivot hard in the opposite direction, hooking my arm under his and leveraging my hip against his massive thigh. For just a moment I feel his power falter under my strength, and he stumbles slightly, just enough for a small grin to spread across my face. He pulls away quickly and huffs.
“Better,” he grumbles, lowering himself into a squat. His eyes sharpen again. “You need to turn your brain off. It needs to be your nature to pursue and to dominate. You’re too nice.” Carter doesn’t allow me any time before he retaliates. His grip tightens on my waist and in one swift motion, he lifts me up to his mercy and slams me down on the mat. I whimper as the muscles of my back absorb the shock while I lay motionless for a moment– again. I blink while my vision blurs tracing beams across the metal beams high above me.
Carter crouches over me, his expression flat. “Do you see now? He taps my forehead and I swat his hand away. “You had it in there,” he smirks, “but you hesitated at the last second because you know I know how to read you. Your body knew what to do but your brain and your ego fuck you up every time.”
I grit my teeth and push myself up to my elbows. “I didn’t hesitate.”
“Then why are you on your back?” He lets out a soft chuckle to soften his words.
I exhale sharply and roll onto my side before frustration washes over my face. My back flexes until I can feel each muscle cramp. Carter stands, I feel his eyes on me while I grit my teeth and grow more angry. “We can stop if you’d like. I’m not trying to break you down just yet.”
I push up to my feet. I shake off the ache. Carter watches me, cocking his head and rubbing his hand down his abs. I step in, fast and sharp, rising and then sweeping under his torso, locking my shoulder against him. My leg hooks behind his knee and I drive forward. For a moment, I feel his leg begin to give and his mass seems uncentered, but Cartercompensates immediately, while his body begins to sway to the side just before gravity wins. He plants his feet with force and twists his hips hard, knocking my jaw. He steals the inertia from my body and he pivots with inhuman precision. I hit the mat shoulder first this time, and my body bounces as he crushes me under his weight. He presses down harder, driving his feet into the mat to put more pressure on my stomach, asphyxiating me.
“You thought you had me.” His voice grates against my ears. “You didn’t have me.” He presses his massive forearm into my neck. Not enough to hurt badly but enough to cut off almost all my airflow. His breath brushes against my face and rustles my hair. “You aren’t as good as you thought.”
I grit my teeth, pushing against him regardless of the extra pain it causes me. My lungs burn for air, my body heaves under his weight, but I refuse to tap. I twist my hips to try to buck him off of me, but he’s too powerful. Carter’s tone changes when he shifts his weight slightly. The small amount of playfulness hidden behind his cold words has now been sucked out of the air. He forces his arm further up into my jaw and locks my head back against the mat.
“You aren’t as good as you think,” he repeats. “And you’re sure as hell not good enough to beat me.” The words sink into my mind, sharp and humiliating while they carve into my ego and through my stomach. I drive my knee up, managing to graze his ribs, but he reacts immediately and locks my legs with his. My body is caged beneath him while my vision starts fading out more drastically. “You keep trying.” He lowers his face until his lips are but inches from mine. “But that’s not enough anymore.” His grip tightens on me.
“Tap.”
“No.”
“Tap. Or I’ll make you.”
I try to knee Carter again while my body shudders from the lack of oxygen. My fingernails begin to dig into his forearm, but he doesn’t flinch. He bites his lip and, if anything, he presses down harder. “You don’t know when to quit.” His hot breath paints my cheek with drops of spit. “That’s your problem.”
I snap my knee up for a third time, I need to land something somewhere on him, just even the slightest hit to get him off of me for long enough to escape. He shifts weight so his knee grinds into my lower ribcage mercilessly. Pain ignites in my side and I release a ghastly cry.
He grins. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” His voice seems cold. “That’s nothing.” He twists my arm back and tucks it under my body, further than it should go. Fire shoots through my shoulder, my body jerking against the mat while I try to thrust my hips to destabilize him. “How much more can you take?” My dry lips part but my tongue knots and my teeth might shatter before I manage to choke out any single word. Carter clicks his tongue and smiles. Then, he wrenches my arm harder. A choked cry forces itself from my throat. The pain is instantly sharp, amplified by the dullness that courses over my body. My muscles splinter and tear to spare themselves. Carter exhales sharply and yanks my arm again. My vision goes white at the edges and my feet begin to go warm. My fingers twitch while he demands that I tap again. I shake my head.
Carter growls low in his throat. He shifts, pushing his knee hard into my ribs which causes my body to jolt under him. I cough, and this time drool collects on the mat below me. My vision tunnels, blood pounds in my skull, and pain shoots behind my eyes. I tap, but Carter doesn’t let go. I slap the mat with as much force as I can, panic beginning to set in. Carter finally obliges, but not before slamming me against the mat again. He stands up off of me and plants both of his feet on either side of my head. His chest rises quickly, but he’s calm. I turn to my side and cradle my shoulder in my other arm, bringing my knees into my chest.
“You don’t learn, do you?” His voice now has a particular rasp to it. “You adjusted each time I told you to, but you revert to what you’re comfortable with when I try to get you to apply it without telling you exactly what’s wrong. You think you can keep pushing and somehow you’ll just win, but you’re destroying yourself.” He moves around me, a slow, prowling circle. My eyes stare at his bare feet, the mat and the impression of his steps are all I see now.
“Get up,” he orders.
I push myself up, heavily favoring my healthy arm. I stand but stagger backward slightly. I prepare to attack him again, but he just shakes his head.
“Go shower.”
I nod and walk slowly out of the gym without looking back at him. I listen for his footsteps behind me, but they don’t materialize. As I make my way to the locker room, Carter’s words bounce around in my mind each time my soles land on the tile floor. Each step feels heavier than the last, and I can still feel the weight of his presence hanging over my neck and around my legs like shackles. I strip out of my singlet and walk naked into the showers. I flick the water on and lean against the cold tiles, replaying every moment in my head until I couldn’t convince myself that something like this actually happened.
Carter walks into the locker room a few minutes after I turn on the water. My back throbs and I can’t move my shoulder right. My hair hangs over my face while the hot water caresses my body invasively.
“Gotta get over that ego,” Carter says from the locker room. His locker clicks open and he begins to rummage through his backpack.
I don’t respond.
“I bet your face is burning,” he pries further.
I shut off the water and walk out into the locker room. Carter looks me up and down quickly, then huffs.
“Why are you still here?” I ask. “You finished your scouting before you decided you wanted to pick on me.” My mood has changed. The lingering determination that narrowed my eyes on the mat has now fully escaped in each exhale through my parted lips. My eyes have softened and returned to their somber state. I hold my left arm in my hand to take some of the tension off of my shoulder, fingers tracing the scar on my elbow from when I broke it in sixth grade.
“You feel that heat in your face from frustration? That’s the heat that you grow from.”
“Stop trying to give me these fuck-shit philosophical lessons, man,” my voice echoes sharply through the locker room. I turn around and dry myself off quickly. “You can use as many pretty sentences as you want, but I’m not gonna buy into your philosophy of humiliating the guys you’re trying to recruit.”
Carter steps up to me until the height difference between us seems miles high. His pecs rise in front of my chin while I look up at him. His deep green eyes examine the ice in mine. For the first time since I met him, he hesitates like he doesn’t quite have the words mapped for this conversation.
He eventually scoffs, his breath harsh against my forehead. “Man, I’m just trying to show you how much you could grow.”
“Maybe it was useful until you went on a power trip.” I plant both of my hands against his chest and push him back forcefully. Carter smiles in disbelief, but then nods and finally changes out of his singlet.
I change back into my sweatpants and t-shirt. My hair still drips, but I shove my towel in my bag just so I can get out of here. I walk quickly out of the locker room and down the hallway back into the gym, listening carefully for any signs that he’s following me. Sure enough, just as I thought that I was good, I hear his heavy footsteps behind me coupled with the metal tabs of his backpack zippers pattering against its canvas fabric. Carter catches me from behind, wrapping his arm under my own and spinning around me to block my path.
“Consider it,” his words finally soften.
“No. You told me I was indecisive. And, yeah,” I sigh, “I hadn’t made a decision. But at least now I know one that I can cross off my list.”
“Come on man. No one’s gonna give you a better experience than that.”
I scoff at Carter. “Right, because I envisioned getting pinned down by a guy who was supposed to recruit me just to find out that this is probably very targeted.”
“Did you learn shit?”
I pause and rub my neck. “Sure, I did, but that doesn’t mean shit when I’m gonna have to down ibuprofen when I get home.”
Carter chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. I get carried away.” He steps out of his hard shell and closes the distance between us. “You’re good, and I can make you the best. You got people down your throat telling you that, so I don’t need to.”
I raise an eyebrow and scrunch my forehead. “Appreciate it, but–”
“Consider it,” he interrupts. “Matter of fact, what you got going on today?”
“I gotta get home to my family.”
Carter tilts his head. “They waiting on you or something?”
“Bro, I’m fucking exhausted, too.” I shrug him off and shift my backpack higher on my shoulders.
Carter exhales sharply through his nose and falls into step beside me as I begin to make my way back to the exit. His voice drops lower, steadier. “Look, man. You felt it, right? That challenge, the push and effort you gave me, man. You’re not gonna get any better by running from it.”
I keep walking. “Not running,” I breathe. “I’m deciding.”
Carter huffs again, then steps in front of me and pushes his chest into me, blocking the door with his arm. “Back to making excuses.” His gaze pins me. I step back. “You said you’re not interested in my offer, but you obliged to everything I’ve said so far.”
I grit my teeth, looking at the door. “Maybe I was just being polite.”
He coughs up a dry laugh. “Polite doesn’t get you through what I put you through today. You can tell yourself you’re done, that’s fine. I said it already, I know you felt that shit, too. You got fire, but you gotta turn it into something.”
I look away from him.
Carter leans in slightly, voice softer now. “It’s what, January 24, 25?”
“28th,” I correct him.
“I can’t just stay around here, I have other shit I gotta do back home. I got class and stuff.” He pauses for a moment to consider his words. “Summer workouts begin in June. Off-season, chill. I can let Coach know and he’d let you join us, I bet.”
I scratch my head, fingers tangling into my damp hair. The air feels heavy again.
“You don’t know me.”
“Wrong. I don’t know much about you but don’t prove me wrong about who I think you are and crumble when you get pushed. Flex.”
I shift my weight, suddenly aware of the aching in my shoulder again, my gaze hard.
“Exactly,” he stares at me. “That’s exactly why I want you.”
The words land weirdly. Firm, almost begging– but also not begging and more demanding, but pleading? Real.
I shift my gaze downward to Carter’s foot gently tapping on the floor. “You’d really call your coach?”
He nods, a faint smile trying to escape his flat lips. “If you say yes, I’ll make the call tonight. You show up in June, nopressure. We can get you somewhere to stay. Just work. No promises, but if this is something you really want– if you really want it– I’ll make sure you get seen even more.”
The gym hums in silence. “I’ll think about it.”
“Do more than that.” Carter lowers his arm slightly.
I take a step past him, but Carter doesn’t seem keen on letting me leave yet. In an instant, his face hardens again, but this time I can’t read it.
“Nah,” he says, convicted. “You don’t get to brush this off like that.”
I stiffen. “You literally just said ‘no pressure’,” I mock his voice.
“I don’t want to make you feel like you’re bound to come to summer workouts in June, but I need you to do more than just think about this, Cameron.”
“What, am I your project? Is that why you want me so bad?”
“You think I’m chasing you for fun?” His eyes flare.
“Seems very calculated that you came to see the kid you pinned down at the state championship four fucking years ago.”
“Because you’ve got something, and we both know it. I’m not letting you walk out just because you’re too tired, orworried, or whatever the hell it is.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“No.” Carter leans in. His voice is sharp, full of passion, but not angry. “You said you’d think about it because you don’t wanna admit you’re curious. You don’t want to admit that maybe this would be good for you.”
I swallow hard, heat rising up my neck.
Carter jabs a finger at my chest. “I’m not here to beg, but I will tell you, Cameron. This is one of those moments. When a kid says, ‘I’m gonna be somebody someday, just wait–’ This is that moment, Cameron. The kind that you look back on and you either thank yourself for stepping up, or you regret it and ask yourself how different your life may look. You already know the answer.”
I glance down again.
“I will call my coach right fucking now.” Carter shoves his hand in his pocket to retrieve his phone. His finger hovers over the number pad, the screen illuminating both of our faces. His eyes burn into me. “You leaving, or are you stepping up?”
My throat closes and I choke on my words. “Carter, I–”
He cuts me off again, not with words but with the weight of his eyes. His hands are steady while I press mine into my thighs to stop them from shaking.
“I don’t have time to waste on maybes,” he lowers his voice just above a whisper. “I picked you even though every other recruiter had, and I knew my chances probably weren’t remarkable. I knew you were gonna be a big name since that first time we met at a championship. You were a freshman going to the state championship, Cameron. You think I forgot how nervous I was, even if I won?”
I wipe my sweaty palms on my sweatpants. That match has been on my head every time I step onto a wrestling mat. The sting in this building when I lost the following years because I couldn’t keep my head level enough to win. Every stumble, every point given up, every moment I thought maybe I had missed my last chance.
“You’re not a project, but I’m gonna still work with you. You’re an opportunity for you. And if you walk out, fine.” He sidesteps. “Door’s right there. But just know you’re turning down something that could change your entire career path.”
My lips part and I sigh. I look back to the door. I stare back at the phone. The weight of everything he’s throwing at me suffocates me. Trying to convince me that it’s just so simple. Like I can just brush aside the match years ago– maybe I could– but to reopen that tonight when I finally feel like I won something. I step back.
“Don’t call him.” My voice cuts through the air flatly.
Carter doesn’t lower the phone right away. His brain churns. He blinks, confused for the first time since I met him. He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him this time.
“No,” I repeat myself. “You talk about this like it’s some epic crossroads or whatever. But I have twenty other schools that I’m sure have their own perfect story to charm me and get me on their team.”
His jaw tightens, and his phone goes dark in his hand. Carter’s expression darkens, his jaw flexing. I can see the shift in his stance like he’s done trying to convince me with words. Without warning, he steps forward and rams his chest into me. The space between us vanishes, and the pressure from his muscles against my chin forces me to look up.
“You think you can just walk away from this?” His voice is a low growl which hides a threat behind each syllable. He pushes his phone into my chest, and I wince slightly. “You’re not walking away from this shit unless I let you.”
I can feel his chest rise against my body. He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he grabs my arm and pulls me back into him as my weight shifts.
“This isn’t just an offer. This is me telling you that you’re better than what you’ve been settling for, and you don’t take it.”
I try to pull away, but his hand tightens, forcing me to stay in his space.
“You really think you’re in control right now?” Carter shifts his weight until I’m off balance. “You think I’m just gonna let you leave without making a decision? Not a chance.”
His grip on my arm shifts, and suddenly he’s pushing me around and back into the wall inches away from the door of my freedom. He leans in, his mouth at my neck, his voice barely a whisper but filling my mind until all I want to do is make my head explode. “You think you’re so tough. Like you’re ready for this life, but you haven’t proven it, state champion. This is your one shot.”
I brace my hands against the cinderblock wall, trying to keep my composure but his presence is so suffocating.
“Make a fucking choice.” His mustache brushes against my neck and I shiver. Carter’s hands move to my hips and he presses the weight of his abdomen into me.
“I already said no.”
Carter’s lips push into my neck and the world collapses. My vision goes fuzzy. I can hardly breathe, my thoughts bubbling through me, then crashing together and tearing apart. The heat of his body, as he pushes me back against the wall, constricts me in the same way that it demands my absolute attention. It demands a response that I can’t give.
His hands tighten on my hips, sliding upwards around my muscular waist. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs against my skin. His voice is low and still dangerous. “You’re not saying no because you don’t want it. You’re scared of what it might mean.”
I shudder. I want to step away, shake off the power that he has over me, walk through that door, and not look back, but my feet are frozen to the floor.
“Why?” He presses his lips into my neck again. “Why do you keep running from something as good as this?”
I close my eyes, fighting the urge to give in to him. His hands shift again. One traces up my abs, and the other secures me under my ribs, his thumb tracing my obliques under my shirt.
“I’m not letting you walk away from this until you’re sure.” He keeps the words flowing because he knows the bombardment overwhelms me. His hands tighten. “So, stop lying. Make a choice, Cameron. Stop fucking lying to yourself.”
“I’m just not ready.”
Carter grabs my jaw and retracts, his eyes flickering back and forth across mine. “You just won a state championship, dammit. If there’s any time to make that step, it’s now. Prove yourself.”
I had proven myself. To the hundreds of families and every single opponent I faced today. I’ve proved myself to all of the scouts who watched while they tapped their pens against their clipboards. It somehow, in some strange way, was not enough for him, though. His thumb presses against the hinge of my jaw and he forces my gaze back up to him. I swallow hard, and my pulse thunders when his finger presses into my skin.
“Say yes.” He presses again. Not a request, a dare.
I exhale raggedly. “Fine.”
His grip loosens just enough for me to breathe fully. “Fine, what?”
“I’ll come. I’ll join you.”
Carter’s smirk deepens, victorious. He finally steps back, but his eyes never leave mine.
“Good.”
