With patience

The minute between rounds felt shorter than a single breath.

I sat at the edge of the mat, my elbows resting on my knees, trying to force air into my aching lungs. Every muscle in my body seemed to have grown heavier during the first five minutes. My shoulders burned, my thighs trembled, and sweat ran down my temples, dripping from my chin onto the soft surface beneath my feet.

Laura crouched beside me, trying to get me to focus. Across the mat, Rebecca looked infuriatingly relaxed. She rolled her shoulders and glanced in my direction with a small, satisfied smile. She had spent the first round dictating the pace, choosing when to engage and when to make me waste energy. Whenever I thought I had found an opening, she had closed it.

Laura gripped my shoulders. "Aubrey. Look at me."

I raised my head and met her eyes, her confident gaze helping to clear the fog in my head.

"You're trying to win the entire match with one move," she said. "Stop doing that. She's waiting for you to rush in and waste whatever energy you have left. Make her move first. Make her carry your weight. And when she commits, take advantage of her position."

The referee called us to the center. With five consecutive points against me, I was eligible for the mercy advantage, but that wouldn't win the match for me. I still had to earn every point.

"Try not to embarrass yourself," Rebecca whispered.

The whistle sounded.

Starting from my mercy advantage position, I secured a body lock. Instead of twisting her or attempting a throw, I simply held her in place, squeezing her tightly while giving myself a moment to recover. She quickly grew frustrated and exploded upward, trying to reverse our positions. I sidestepped, but she caught my shoulder and drove me toward the boundary.

I slipped out of her grip and circled back toward the center. She followed, convinced I'd eventually panic and make a mistake. Instead, I waited until she committed again.

I caught an underhook, turned my hips, and redirected her momentum. Rebecca stumbled, and I completed the throw, bringing her onto her side. I immediately followed her down, controlling her upper body before she could roll away, using my legs to repeatedly knock her heels aside so she couldn't plant her feet and push with her hips.

I pressed my whole body against hers, and for once, the feeling of intimacy was almost welcome, even relaxing.

"One!"

She tried to twist her shoulders free, but couldn't find the strength.

"Two!"

I adjusted my weight, pressing her chin and mouth between my breasts.

"Three!"

The whistle sounded. Five points. 5–5.

Rebecca stared at the scoreboard. "Lucky," she muttered, her smile vanishing.

We resumed from the center. Rebecca circled cautiously, then suddenly reached for my torso. We struggled for grips, neither of us able to establish a decisive position. After twenty seconds of neutral wrestling, the referee stopped us and repositioned us.

Rebecca was gasping for air. The little tank was strong, but even she was getting tired.

At the restart, she attacked aggressively. She secured a body lock and drove me backward, trying to turn me onto the mat. I resisted, but she changed direction and brought us down together.

For a moment, she gained the upper position.

"There you are," she said with a cruel grin. "Back where you belong."

I ignored her and concentrated on my position. When she shifted her weight to stop me from turning, I slipped an arm free, caught her leg, and rolled my hips through, reversing our positions.

I landed on top of her, but Rebecca reacted quickly, twisting onto her side before I could establish a pin. I followed up with a ground-and-pound punch to her stupid mouth, then maintained control for nearly a full minute, twisting her arms and keeping her legs trapped beneath me.

Finally, I secured an armbar, forcing her to tap out. The referee stepped in and separated us.

8–5 to me. They had awarded me more than one point for that entire minute of domination.

Rebecca got up slowly, even more exhausted than I was. There was hardly any gas left in her tank.

The final minute approached, and Rebecca attacked again, determined to recover the lead. She caught my torso and tried to force me into a throw. I defended her first attempt, but she changed her grip and brought me down.

For a second, I feared she had finally found the opening she wanted.

She tried to turn me onto my back. I braced against the mat and fought off her hands, refusing to let her settle her weight on me.

"Give up," she hissed desperately.

"Not a chance," I managed to say.

I pushed against the mat, turned onto my side, and recovered my base. Rebecca clung to the clinch, but I broke her grip just enough to secure my own. Now we were both squeezing each other around the midsection, breathing heavily, neither willing to let go.

After a few seconds, the referee separated us.

She lunged one final time. I anticipated her movement, blocked her entry, and secured an upper-body grip. She struggled to break free, and I took advantage of the opening to execute a controlled throw.

Rebecca hit the mat on her side. I followed, but she turned before I could secure the pin. We struggled for position until she tried to escape, but I caught her with my hand, right between her legs.

I squeezed gently, and the referee was about to separate us when I quickly loosened my grip and began rubbing her crotch softly instead.

My chest was heaving, and my arms trembled from exhaustion. Rebecca went still, just as spent as I was, seemingly finding a little pleasure in the middle of this exhausting struggle. For a few seconds, she even seemed to forget how much she hated me.

Then someone shouted from her side of the mat, snapping her back to reality. She quickly escaped my grip and launched one last desperate attack.

I was exhausted, with absolutely nothing left to give. That gentle rubbing had been my last attempt to keep her under control.

She speared me to the ground, pinned one of my shoulders, and...

The bell rang.

The referee confirmed the end of the second round.

Aubrey 8 — Rebecca 5.

Rebecca remained still for a moment before getting to her feet. She looked at the scoreboard again, clearly furious but too exhausted to do anything about it. Reluctantly accepting defeat, she finally released me from the pin and stood up.

I rose unsteadily in the center of the marked area, my hands resting on my hips as I struggled to draw a full breath. Laura was applauding from beyond the boundary, while Jessica had both hands raised, shouting so loudly that I could hear her even over the crowd.

Somehow, I had managed to win.