Chapter Seven

High Lord Crossbody vs. The Rolling Rimmer

Vince

I loved the moment just before a match.

Standing alone behind those big doors, waiting to make my entrance. Hearing the muffled sounds of the crowd on the other side, and David the commentator announcing that everyone should return to their seats because the next match was about to start.

Then those few seconds of stillness, as the crowd grew quiet in anticipation, the interval music lowered, and David allowed a pregnant pause to fill the arena before introducing the wrestlers.

“Making his way to the ring, weighing in at one hundred and eighty pounds…”

I stretched my neck and shook out my hands, making sure I was steady on my skates.

I couldn’t fucking wait for this match.

“Don’t boogie too close to that hungry mouth, folks… It’s… The Rolling Rimmerrrr!”

I heard a hiss as the doors began to open in front of me. Disco music blared through the arena, and multicoloured lights flashed over me as I took a breath and skated out onto the walkway.

A grin stretched my mouth as the crowd screamed and the people closest, seated right up against the walkway, reached down frantically and waved. I was in a fucking fantastic mood, more than ready to put Crossbody on his ass, so I decided to show off a little more than normal.

I spun in a wide circle as I made my way down the walkway, then effortlessly moved into a backflip and landed on my skates to glide the rest of the way backward, holding my arms up for the crowd. When I reached the ring, I seamlessly slipped under the ropes in a split before leaping to my feet and skating to each corner, gesturing at the crowd to cheer louder.

Crossbody was waiting to enter the ring, and I wanted him to hear how much they loved me. Not him. He’d called me a joke.

I’d show him how much of a fucking joke I was.

Surprisingly, our rehearsals had been completely uneventful. Well, after Crossbody threw a little fucking tantie about me performing my signature move on him. Corey had overseen our practice sessions, so we’d both been on our best behaviour. Plus, neither of us wanted to touch each other longer than necessary, so we’d performed our moves quickly and efficiently so each rehearsal could end as soon as possible.

Hogbody had still managed to find something to grumble about, obviously.

“It’s technically sound,” he’d grunted at our final rehearsal earlier today. “But it’s like watching two robots who’ve been programmed to smack each other around a bit. For god’s sake, put some fucking spunk into it tonight.”

Neither of us had answered, the air growing a little uncomfortable from Hogbody’s choice of wording.

There would definitely be no spunk involved, but I was going to perform my damn ass off to show that prick just how good I was at my job. If he still wanted to be all stiff and awkward and act like a fucking baby because he didn’t get to win, that was on him. He was the only one who’d look bad.

Excitement and determination tightened my gut when the disco music faded away and David started speaking over the mic again.

“Aaaand making his way to the ring, weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds… Folks, you love him, you fear him…”

I just about managed to stop my lip from curling as the crowd started cheering louder again, and golden smoke billowed from the other walkway entrance. Regal music began to play, making me want to snort. He was such a pompous ass.

“…and what should you never do?” David asked the audience.

“ Cross him! ” they screamed. Paxton, our camera guy, kept a camera trained on me while one of his smoke tendrils operated another, getting ready to capture High Lord Crossbody’s entrance.

He glided out onto the walkway. I remembered to react accordingly, shaking my head and skating back and forth across the mat like I was pacing impatiently, but my gut was tightening even further as I watched him.

I could, begrudgingly, understand why the crowd went wild for him. He looked like a royal fae, like some ethereal mystical being, different from the fae who’d lived in this world their whole lives.

He was always so poised, knowing how to utilise his best assets. That infuriatingly flawless face and those hooded, sultry eyes. The slight curl of his lips that just screamed, ‘I’m better than all of you!’ And those ridiculously long legs, completely bare under his skimpy gold bikini briefs. His mauve skin glimmered with oil, making his leanly muscled torso look long and cut. His bicep flexed as he lifted his hand in a regal wave, tossing back his waterfall of shimmering gold hair.

My lip wanted to curl again, so I let it. We were about to fight, so the reaction was believable.

He was ridiculous. So far up his own ass. He knew how good he looked, and he was lapping it up.

And he said I didn’t take my job seriously? I was pretty sure he was only here so he could have hundreds of people drooling over his half-naked body.

He stopped halfway down the walkway. Those huge opalescent wings began to flutter rapidly until they were a blur, lifting him into the air. The audience screamed, pumping their arms and waving as he swept down toward the ring and landed gracefully on a corner post, facing the crowd and raising his arms to make them scream louder.

My gaze darted to his ass before I quickly looked away. It wasn’t my fault. It was just… there. And he was in tiny gold briefs.

I almost jumped when one of Paxton’s smoke tendrils appeared in front of me holding a mic. Grabbing it quickly, I waited for the crowd to simmer down as Crossbody jumped from the top rope and strutted across the mat, smirking. And ignoring me.

I lifted the mic to my mouth and finally spoke.

“Who wants to see me remind the High Lord that he’s not in Otherworld anymore?”

The crowd ooohed and cheered as Crossbody’s jaw clenched, just enough for me to see it. He made a show of rolling his eyes and crossing his arms with a bored expression, but his gaze darted to mine with a seething look that was definitely real.

He grabbed the other mic that Paxton held out, waiting for the audience to quieten before speaking into it.

“And who wants to see me remind the Rolling Rimmer that disco died a sad, anticlimactic death a long time ago?”

Some of the audience booed, while others cheered with excitement.

“I’ll show you that disco is alive and well, your highness.” I smirked. Smack-talk could sometimes be a little ridiculous, but the crowd lapped it up. “Maybe you could introduce it to all your subjects when you pack your bags and go back to your mommy’s palace after I wipe the mat with you.”

His nostrils flared, but he managed an easy laugh into the mic and drawled, “We’ll see, won’t we? As long as you don’t slip and land on your face in those ridiculous roller skates.”

I glided forward and came to a quick, effortless halt right in front of him, the toe stops of my skates almost touching the toes of his wrestling boots. He glared down at me, purple eyes gleaming under the sparkling gold eyeshadow on his lids. He was wearing mascara too, because his lashes looked even thicker and longer than normal, almost like they were weighing his eyelids down.

My skin prickled with awareness when I felt the heat pumping off his bare front, just inches from mine. It was always warm in the ring, under the spotlights and with the mass of people surrounding us.

Slowly, I raised the mic between us and spoke into it, smirking up at him. “I can do everything you can and more in these ‘ridiculous’ skates. Want me to prove it?”

I’d almost forgotten about the audience. My heart was already beating a little faster in anticipation, my blood pumping. If this had been anyone but him, it would’ve felt almost like foreplay.

He gritted his teeth and stepped even closer, until his front bumped against mine aggressively. I dug my toe stops into the mat so my skates didn’t slip out from under me.

“Fine,” he snarled into the mic. “Prove it.”

As rehearsed, I flung my mic to the side, one of Paxton’s smoke tendrils shooting out to catch it. Then Crossbody did the same as I launched myself at him.

The roar of the crowd grew deafening as I crashed into him, sending us both tumbling to the mat and starting off our match.

Sometimes, I could almost zone out while performing. We always rehearsed so much that we could do most of the moves in our sleep, but this time, I was acutely aware of every single moment when Crossbody was touching me.

It was different from the rehearsals, where we’d been able to remain clinical and distant. This time it had to look real, which meant writhing together on the mat, grappling, grunting and shouting for the audience.

It was kind of… unsettling me in a very specific way. It was making me think of things I didn’t want to think about. Especially not about him .

By the time we were nearing the end of our match, I was eager to get it all over and done with so I could get away from him. Clear my head a bit. He had this infuriating way of getting under my fucking skin and staying there for far too long.

The crowd’s roars were deafening as I took Crossbody down to the mat and quickly leaped back onto my skates, circling the ring and getting the audience extra pumped for the end of the match. As Crossbody made a big show of struggling to his feet with his back to me, panting hard, I got ready to perform my signature move. The one that would send him stumbling into the ropes, allowing me to fling him onto the mat and pin him.

And win.

I extended my tongue and waggled it in the air. The crowd started going wild in anticipation, and I saw Crossbody’s heaving shoulders tense up. He knew what was about to happen. And I knew he hated it.

My mouth stretched into a vicious grin as I skated closer. But as I snapped my tongue down to perform the Rim Jab, just as we’d rehearsed, he launched himself into the air, his wings a blur.

Which we had definitely not fucking rehearsed.

Before I could comprehend what had just happened, Crossbody was shooting down again and slamming into my back. A grunt left me as I pitched forward, landing hard on the mat.

“The Rolling Rimmer almost got a classic Rim Jab in there, but the High Lord evaded it!” I heard David say over the mic, his voice the tiniest bit uncertain.

This wasn’t in the script.

He was going off-script.

What the fuck ?

He pinned my shoulders to the mat, pressing a knee into my back hard enough to keep me down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed, trying not to move my mouth too much, my cheek pressed to the mat. “This isn’t—”

“Just stay down,” he snarled, pushing harder on my shoulders.

My eyes darted to Wesley, the ref, who was hovering uncertainly just outside of the ring. I tried my best to get out from under Crossbody, but he had seventy fucking pounds on me, and he wasn’t performing anymore. He was pinning me for real.

“Let me the fuck up,” I hissed, trying to buck him off. “What the fuck are you—”

“The Rolling Rimmer is trying his best, but it looks like the High Lord has him down,” David was saying, sounding a little frantic now.

The crowd was starting to boo, because he’d been pinning me for longer than three seconds, which meant the ref definitely should have called the match by now. But Wesley knew the outcomes just like everyone else behind the scenes, and this wasn’t supposed to fucking happen.

With a real shout of anger, I tried one last time to heave Crossbody off me, but he couldn’t be moved. Finally, Wesley dove under the ropes to count the pin, having no other option.

“And High Lord Crossbody wiiiins!” David yelled into the mic.

I scrambled out from under Crossbody as he finally released me, my chest heaving with anger. I was feeling wildly off-kilter, almost a little shaken, so my skates nearly slipped out from under me as I hastily made my way to the ropes.

As I climbed out of the ring, seething with fury, I glanced up at Holt’s private box. He was standing right at the window with his hands on his hips and a deep frown on his face, Taylor hovering beside him looking concerned. Larkin was behind them, holding up his phone, sticking his tongue out and flashing his middle finger for a selfie, completely oblivious to what Crossbody had just done.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Crossbody had gone off-script just so he could beat me.

I was so fucking angry I couldn’t even think.

David was saying something to the audience, but my ears filled with static and I couldn’t hear it. I skated down the walkway as fast as possible, refusing to look back and see Crossbody showboating for the crowd.

Did he feel good about being so fucking unprofessional that he went off-script just to snatch a tiny, meaningless victory from me? What the fuck was his problem? He was such an insufferable prick, and I was done playing nice. Our match was over. He’d royally fucked it all up.

So I was going to give him a piece of my fucking mind.