We're standing a few feet away from each other – three, per competition rules, to be precise – but my heart is racing as if Michael is already on top of me. He will be soon. I don't think my body is ready for that.

We're both in grappling stance, slightly hunched over with our arms hung in front like a boxer's. Michael has a sly, mischievous grin played across his mouth and it's not making me any less nervous.

Usually, a referee would blow a whistle to start the match, and the two of us would begin circling the mat while looking for an opening to charge the other. I'm actually not sure when we'll star–

SLAM!

And like that I'm already on my back, pressed against the mat, with Michael's knees pinning my shoulders down. The cheat bum-rushed me. And it hurt.

"Are you trying to take me out of competition? What gives, man?" I try shifting under his weight, but it feels like there are spears pierced through both my shoulders. All I can do is squirm around like an idiot.

Michael is still wearing that stupid grin.

"You've got to be ready for anything. And you've got to be able to get out of this pin," Michael replies, crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly despite the wriggling worm beneath his knees.

He's barely trying at all, and I'm completely failing. In collegiate wrestling, you only need to hold an opponent's shoulders to the ground for one full second to win by pin – and I've been stuck here for longer than that.

Well, this is humiliating.

I stop squirming. "Come on, Michael. You're not even in my weight class. You're too frickin' heavy."

Michael sighs. It's a real sigh, the kind that only comes from genuine disappointment. He moves back, taking his knees off of my shoulders, but shifting his weight to rest on my lower abdomen. He's just… sitting on me.

I push out a groan of discomfort.

There may be nearly two-hundred pounds of weight pressing down on me, but all I can think about is Michael's body – his plump, full ass against my groin.

He rests his chin on a hand and looks down at me.

“You give up too easy, friend.”

I roll my eyes and squirm again, but all I end up achieving is rubbing my hips against the bottom of his thighs.

A few more people have trickled into the gymnasium, and they’re watching us on the mat. We must look completely bizarre in this position.

Michael still staring down at me, waiting for me to try something unexpected.

I push myself up onto my elbows. My lower half is still stuck, but my torso is free enough to lean up closer to him.

I think for a moment.

Then I grab his wrists and pull him forward with all my strength, throwing myself back against the mat. Michael’s caught off-guard enough that it works — he’s plunged forward and comes slamming down on my chest. Before he can recover, or get leverage again, I grab his shoulders and twist our bodies as fast as I can.

Michael fumbles over to his side, and then his back. I’m turning with him, using the momentum to pull myself up and onto his torso. My knees press into his shoulders and the full weight of my body pins down his chest.

His eyes are wide with surprise, and his mouth hangs open with disbelief.

I raise a wrist and feign looking at a watch, “I think that’s a pin, no?”

He closes his lips to a grin.

More people have wandered into the gym, and a few of them clap at the spectacle.

Michael opens his mouth to say something but stops. His brow furrows in confusion. His eyes have drifted downward, and I follow his gaze—

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fu—

This black singlet is doing nothing to conceal a rigid tent pointed straight out from my groin and stopping just inches from his face. I spring up off of him, face burning hot and my mind a messy scramble. I stumble out something, maybe an apology. I’m not sure, I just know that I’m running away with my hands pressed down between my legs.

I hear a few whistles and hollers as I push through a door out of the gym. My breath is caught in my throat, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears. I take the first corner I can find and duck out of sight, hoping that no one followed me out of the gym.

I slump down against a wall and bury my head between my knees. To my annoyance – and relief – I notice that my boner is gone.

Add that to the evolutionary benefits of the fight or flight response, I guess.

My pulse is still banging hard enough to make my whole body shake. I hug my knees tightly to stifle the shivers and hope that maybe the Earth will just decide to open up a fissure right beneath me and swallow me whole.

That doesn't happen, of course. Instead, I hear a pair of cautious footsteps coming around the corner.

I don't want to look up from my knees, but I figure whoever it is will just stand and stare until they get to see the humiliation on my face, so I might as well get it over with.

I raise my head and see Michael standing over me.

He's smirking and shaking his head. He came out here to laugh at me.

I wait for him to say something, but instead, he slides his back down the wall and sits next to me on the floor.

He turns to me and chuckles, "I've heard of victory laps, but I don't think darting out of the gym and getting into the fetal position is the best way to celebrate a win."

He's… making a joke. And not a mean one. No, just the opposite. I have no idea what to say.

He nudges his shoulder into mine.

"Come on, I thought it was kind of flattering."

I shake my head and bury it in my knees again. I choke out a muffled response.

"What's that? You're, uh, talking to your knees."

I raise my head, "It's not fucking funny!"

I'm shouting, which surprises us both. He recovers first and just shrugs.

"It can be, if you want it to be. It can be that funny, awkward thing that we both look back at and laugh about, or it can be…"

He looks me up and down, then squints his eyes in mock consideration. "Would you call this 'devastating'?"

I roll my eyes and find a chuckle rising to the surface. I nudge my shoulder back into his.

"I call this victory."

He rolls his eyes back at me and stands up.

"Well, don't let it go to your head. We're one-one. I'd offer a tie-breaker but I think we ought to go get ready for the bouts."

He holds a hand out to help me up. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.

"Just, try not to flatter anyone else until you've won the match."

I punch his shoulder lightly and walk past him, back towards the gym. My pulse is still pounding, but this time it feels like it's powering me rather than overpowering me. I can feel it pushing my legs forward with each step, and pulling the corners of my mouth up into a bashful smile.

Michael is following behind me, and I can't help but wonder if he's wearing the same grin.

My worst nightmare came to pass, and he turned it into something warm and harmless.

If I can live through that, well, maybe I can make it through this tournament after all.