"Well, I'm a football pyer," I quickly said again, feeling strangely unfortable. "So being associated with cheerleaders is pretty normal."

  I could tell that my evasive response obviously didn’t fully satisfy Diane, but for some reason, I felt quite relut to talk abina, it just didn’t feel right... This is dumb.

  "Actually, 'the cheerleader,' as House calls her, is Regina Gee" I quickly said ign my unfortable feeling about the topic. "She and I were in a retionship for a couple of weeks," with how nervous I felt I added it almost immediately.

  It wasn’t like it was a secret or anything, so my owao talk about it annoyed me.

  "Oh," Diane murmured, now keeping her gaze forward as she walked beside me. "Were you 'going out' with her?" she asked a moment ter, her voice losing volume as the questio on.

  "Oh... yeah," I answered, letting out a faintly amused sigh.

  After my words, her of us said anything for several seds, the silence growing awkward. "Why did it end?" Diane suddenly asked, breaking the quiet midway to our destination.

  "What?" I asked, caught off guard by the suddeion, even though I kly what she was referring to.

  "Your retionship, why did it end?" Diane asked with geerest.

  "It was because of a misuanding," I replied, doubting my own response. Regina's behavior that day was obviously a performance, but it didn’t seem important enough to figure out why.

  "A misuanding?" Diane asked, surprised. "Is it normal to end a retionship over a misuanding?" she inquired formally, narrowing her eyes as if analyzing the thought.

  "Maybe?" I replied, scratg my head, unsure of my answer. "I think as long as there’s good unication, a misuanding wouldn’t be enough to break a retionship," thinking about the successful retionships I knew I tinued, feeling slightly more fident.

  "Didn’t you have good unication with Regina Gee?" Diane asked, now looking at me with i.

  "Well, not really," I answered, recalling all those days in the cafeteria, shrugging my shoulders.

  Nodding slowly, Dia quiet for a moment. From the way her eyes narrowed, she was clearly lost in thought. "And what about you and me? Do you think we have good unication?" she finally asked.

  "Yeah, definitely," I answered seriously, nodding calmly.

  "Are you sure?" Diane asked, slightly worried, tilting her head. "I did some calcutions, and based on the number of words I speak in each of our average versations, I dominate about sixty to seventy pert of the talking time, approximately," Diane said quickly, frowning.

  "It’s that number, right?" I asked amusedly, not doubting Diane's capabilities but still surprised by the sudden pertage.

  Hearing my question, Diane paused for a moment, tilting her head, probably recalg. "Yeah, sixty-two pert and rising, approximately," she responded fidently a sed ter.

  "Do you remember all our versations?" I asked, amused.

  "Every word. Don’t you?" Diane asked, widening her eyes slightly with .

  "Is that a joke?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yeah," Diane said, pressing her lips together as if trying not to smile.

  "Really funny," I decred, genuinely amused. "I remember everythialk about, but not word for word," I assured Diah a calm smile.

  "Yes, I know," Diane murmured, nodding with a visible smile. "But the pertage still proves we don’t have 'good unication,'" Diane added, looking worried again.

  "Diane," I said, stopping abruptly a few steps away from the skills b aly taking her hand. "I should’ve been much clearer. I don’t think the important thing food unicatioween two people is the parative pertage of spoken words," I assured her with a faint smile. "I think what really matters is the tent of the time shared."

  "But—" Diane began nervously.

  "But," I quickly interrupted her, "if the pertage is so important to you," I added, fairly certain it was, "then I’ll just have to talk a lot more than I normally do," I said with a smile.

  "So, your pn is to try to equal the amount of words per versation?" Diane asked, smiling slightly and biting her lip.

  "That’s absolutely correct," I replied, relieved that Diane seemed more at ease. "For example, this is the skills b, where we, the stists w to heal others—also knohysis or doctors—practice patg people up and applying stitches, among other things," I said quickly, pointing to the b door. "Follow me, please," I added as I walked into the room.

  "Do you know how to perform the ied tinuous suture?" Diane suddenly asked, ied, as we walked toward the door.

  "Ied tinuous suture?" I asked, surprised and amused. "Where did you hear that?"

  "One of the books I read in the diagnostic lounge mentio," Diane expined easily.

  One of the books? She hadn’t been alohere for long—how many books had she read?

  "But that’s not important," Diane quickly said, shaking her head. "I’m asking questions to give you the ce to talk more," she murmured excitedly, leaning slightly toward me, as if sharing a secret.

  I retty sure that’s how a versation works.

  Smiling at Diane, I said, "Excellent question!" Pretending to be some sort of tuide, I excimed excitedly, letting go of Diane’s cold hand. "The ied tinuous suture is an advaeique primarily used in gastroiinal surgery," I expined. "Specifically to close cavities in ans like the iine or stomach," I tinued, opening the b door and allowing Diao enter first. "And yes, I know how to perform it in its two variations: the ell suture and the Cushing suture," I added, stoppio Diaer entering the skills b. Feeling strangely proud, I asked with a smile, imitatione, "How am I doing?"

  Still biting her lip to avoid smiling widely, Diane gave me a thumbs-up, clearly enjoying the game.

  "Excellent," I said, g my hands pyfully. "Now, if we walk this way, the b has all sorts of syic tissue: silie, polyurethaels, and even, by special request, pigskin," I said quickly, showing her each material—except the st one. "If you still have time miss, I demonstrate both variations of the ied tinuous suture," I tinued, opening my arms and gathering the necessary materials.

  "Yes, I’m reasonably vihat I still have enough time, and I find it particurly iing to observe the suture in person," Diane said, biting her lip to hide her smile and clearly trying to keep up the game. "I really enjoy this social intercourse. It’s funny," Diane murmured with a visible smile, leaning close to me again as if sharing a secret.

  "Yeah, it is," I murmured back, amused, leaning closer as well.

  Without realizing it, talking with Diane about whatever came to her mind, I pletely lost track of time—and possibly some of my voice.

  At some point, the skills b door opened, surprising both Diane and me, who were sitting quite close to each other.

  "I knew you were here. House is back from court," Chase said, grinning widely as he looked at us.

  "Court?" I asked incredulously, standing up.

  "Yeah, Dr. Hamilton was on his way here to disect the patient, so the hospital wyers mao get an emergency hearing with a judge to stop it," Chase expined.

  "Okay," I murmured, surprised that house mao avoid piah a DNR. "So, now what?" I asked, walking behind Chase—not without giving Diane a sileure to follow us.

  "We didn’t get the ce to obtain the MRI, so it’s quite possible House is starting the patient on Cytoxan," Chase replied, shrugging.

  "Based on what?" I asked, fused. "Did you find something with the biopsy?"

  "Yeah, infmmation," Chase replied, nodding. "It’s a leap of faith by House. We couldn’t risk our careers like that."

  "Yeah, and he already has to defend himself in court fn the DNR," I added sarcastically, shrugging.

  "That was his reasoning too," Chase replied, nodding as he pressed his lips together.

  "All right, thanks for letting me know, Chase," I said, nodding to him.

  "Oh, don’t mention it. I’ll leave you two alone—again," Chase decred, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he walked away from the room.

  "I’m going to talk to House," I said to Diane, cheg my watd notig that there was still plenty of time before we had to leave. "Sorry," I added with a smile, as I was interrupting our pleasant versation.

  "It’s okay. You have responsibilities," Diane said with a faint smile, looking directly into my eyes. "Besides, I like being here."

  "Yeah, me too," I replied, not really knowing what to say as I looked into Diane’s eyes. "I mean, I like beioo," I added with exaggeratedly raised eyebrows, joking and making Diane chuckle softly, "hey, don’t ugh at me," I said, feigning offense as I walked alongside Dia of the room, making her ugh a little more freely as she hid her smile behind her hand.

  Not long after, we arrived at the diagnostic lounge, where Diane once again took a seat in the er of the room, pig up another book while I approached House’s office.

  Inside House’s office, he was apanied by another man, whose badge on his pel clearly indicated he was a doctor from another hospital—possibly Dr. Hamilton.

  "Oh hi," Dr. Hamilton said, raising his hand in surprise upon seeing me. "I’m Dr. Hamilton," he added, introdug himself.

  "o meet you, I’m—" I was saying, but House interrupted me.

  "This is Mark Buffalo, the janitor," House quickly said. "Mark, remember you’re only supposed to e for the trash during your scheduled hours," House added, tilting his head and speaking slowly, as if trying to make sure I remember every word.

  "I'm sorry, Doctor, it seems I fot again," I said, patting my head lightly and feigning embarrassment.

  "Oh, don’t worry, Marky Mark," House said with a smile, waving one hand dismissively. "Now, Marty, you were saying you were going to kill John Henry?" House asked maliciously, turning his attention back to the other doctor, Dr. Hamilton, startled by House’s words, looked at me with .

  "No, no, John Henry is going to die by his own choice. I mean, I’m going to disect him from his ventitor because he’s very ill," Dr. Hamilton quickly began to expin, gng nervously at me. "It’s a standard procedure for someone who’s signed a DNR," he added hastily, prompting House to smile even more.

  "Dr. Hamilton, hey," Dr. Foreman said, greeting the man from the doorway of the offid stopping his awkward expnation. "How you doin’?" he asked as he walked over to the other doctor.

  "Ah, Eric," Dr. Hamilton said, clearly relieved by the interruption. "Hey, how you doin’?" he asked iurn, shaking Foreman’s hand.

  "I’m sorry" looking embarrassed Dr. Foreman said, "I should have never put your patient on IVIG," he slowly added.

  "It’s not your fault, Eric," Dr. Hamilton said with a kind smile, trying to reassure him.

  "No, it’s mine Eric," House chimed in sarcastically. Like me, he had beeirely ignored during the other two doctors’ versation.

  "That’s not what I said," Dr. Hamilton quickly denied.

  "I sort of uood that," I said, exaggerating innoce to avoid smiling.

  "Thanks, Mark," House said, grinning broadly and pointing at me.

  "Mark?" Dr. Foreman murmured, fused.

  "Everybody asks about you out in L.A.," Dr. Hamilton said with surprising ease, managing to move past the awkward moment with a smile directed at Foreman.

  "How’s the old pce doing?" Foreman asked, apparently ign the pyful banter between House ahough he briefly gave me an odd look.

  "Oh, this is wonderful," House rudely interrupted any response Dr. Hamilton was about to give. "But before you guys break out the oil, I should point out that you ’t pull the plug," House quickly added. "I have a court order."

  "You used to, but—" Dr. Hamilton started to say, but House interrupted him.

  "I have the right to face my accuser," House decred, pretending to be excited. "Judge said so," he added, tilting his head as if he were a small child.

  "Not if no one’s acg you," Dr. Hamilton calmly said, wiping the grin off House’s face. "All the charges have been dropped," he added slowly, with what looked like pity on his face.

  "He doesn’t have to die," House finally said after a moment of silence, for the first time showing a hint of genuiion.

  "It’s not Wegener’s," Dr. Foreman said, just as surprised as I was, calmly assuring House.

  If it really wasn’t Wegener’s, then his lungs might be able to handle being taken off the ventitor.

  A moment ter, Dr. Hamilton said his goodbyes, awkwardly including me as he left the office with Dr. Foreman.

  "Now what?" I asked House as I sat down in one of the free chairs in front of his desk.

  "Now we do nothing," House said slowly, letting out a brief sigh.

  "Hey, PJ," Dr. Wilson suddenly appearing at the office door with a kind smile said. "I heard they’re going to do it—disect your patient," he added, fog on House.

  "Have you been eavesdropping?" House asked sarcastically, smiling.

  "No, Cuddy said your charges were dropped," Wilson expined calmly, shaking his head.

  "Oh, the lengths some people go to for a peaceful death," House remarked, shaking his head lightly in mock disbelief.

  "Yeah, who’d have thought?" Dr. Wilson asked ironically.

  "Well, let’s go see someone who doesn’t have to, you know, die," House said sarcastically as he walked out of his office. "ing, kid?" he asked. "It might be an enlightening experience."

  "Sure," I said, nodding slowly. I was familiar with the process of diseg someone from life support through books, but I’d never wit before.

  "Uh, Diane, I’ll be ba a few minutes," I said with a smile as I left House’s office with the two doctors.

  "Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it," Diane replied calmly with a smile.

  "Oh my God, I didn’t see you there," Dr. Wilson said, startled and apologetic upon notig Diane.

  "Oh, yeah, Ramanujan has this ability to stand incredibly still in one spot until she’s practically invisible," House said sarcastically. "She’s also like a human calcutor—fun stuff; I show you ter," he quickly added as he walked out of the office.

  "Ramanujan?" Dr. Wilson asked Diane, raising an eyebrow in fusion.

  "My name is Diane Adler," Diane said, rolling her eyes with a hint of exasperation—something I hadn’t seen from her before, quickly introdug herself.

  "Oh, I’m Dr. James Wilson," Dr. Wilson said, still puzzled by Diane’s presence, introdug himself hastily.

  "Wilson, kid," House shouted from outside the lounge, urging us to follow him.

  "Oh, sorry. It was o meet you," Wilson said to Diah a smile.

  "Likewise," Diane replied formally, nodding.

  "See you in a minute," I said to Diah a smile, walking out of the louh Dr. Wilson.

  "So, is she your...?" Dr. Wilson asked as we walked behind House, leaning closer to me with a raised eyebrow.

  "Friend, yes," I quickly answered to the unfinished question.

  "Sure," Wilson murmured with a broad smile. "So, who’s Ramanujan?" he asked curiously a moment ter.

  "I think he was an Indian mathemati who died in 1920," I replied, irely sure.

  "Of course," Dr. Wilson muttered, running a hand along his forhead.

  "If it’s Wegener’s, his lungs won’t be able to ha," House said a few mier as we stood outside the patient’s room, watg the man surrounded by a priest, the woman who had been in his room while he was in a a, and Drs. Foreman and Hamilton. "As soon as they pull that plug, he’ll die," House added grimly.

  "That’s why they call it 'pulling the plug,'" Dr. Wilson said sarcastically, causing both House ao look at him, surprised by his cold words.

  Meanwhile, ihe room, the priest finished speaking to the patient, stepping aside to let the woman say her goodbyes. She Dr. Hamilton, signaling him to proceed with his duty.

  Slowly, Dr. Hamilton removed the ventitor tube from the patient’s throat and stepped back, leaving everyoo wait for the iable.

  Immediately after the ventitor tube was removed, it felt as though time slowed down deliberately—one sed passed, then the one, and then another. Surprisingly, the patient seemed to be breathing.

  "It’s not Wegener’s," I murmured, watg the patient breathe on his own. Both Dr. Wilson and House turo look at me.

  "He’s breathing on his own," Dr. Wilson said, nodding in surprise.

  "Wrong again," House murmured slowly, walking away from the room.

  "I should follow him," I said nervously, watg House walk away.

  "Oh, he’s fi’s just this thing he has about solving cases, you know?" Dr. Wilson said, smiling at me reassuringly.

  "Oh, no, it’s just that he’s heading to the diagnostic lounge," I quickly expined.

  "Oh, yeah, your 'friend' is still there," Dr. Wilson said, nodding knowingly.

  "Yeah, my friend Diane is still there," I replied, choosing to ighe double meaning in Wilson’s words. A moment ter, I nodded in farewell and walked after House, who wasn’t moving particurly fast.

  When I arrived behind House at the diagnostic lounge, I saw Diane, who had previously been sitting in one er of the room, now seated o Cameron at the main table. Cameron, who was leaning in close to Diane, clearly discussing something 'secret', immediately straightened up in her chair when she saw me enter.

  "That doesn’t look suspicious at all," I said jokingly, amused by Cameron’s attempt to mask aion on her face.

  "Oh, we were just talking about what you and I have been doing this week," Diane expined calmly with a smile, seemingly unaware of why the situation might appear suspicious.

  "Diane!" Cameron excimed incredulously, as if Diane had broken some pact of silence.

  "What?" Diane asked, fused, looking at Cameron.

  "PJ isn't supposed to know," Cameron quickly expio Diane in a murmur.

  "Oh, I didn't know that," Diane said, surprised. "Sorry," she added, slightly embarrassed.

  "Don't worry, we’ve got plenty of time to talk more, and I’ll make sure to tell you when and when not PJ is supposed to find out," Cameron murmured amusedly, looking at me with one eyebrow raised.

  "Oh, this is really cute—" House decred mogly, only to be interrupted before he could tinue.

  "He's stable, but one of his arms is now paralyzed," Dr. Wilson said as he ehe lounge, followed by Dr. Foreman, cutting off any tinuation of House's joke.

  "The real question is, why is he still alive?" House asked, nodding at Wilson's words and uanding the seriousness of the matter.

  "Do you think he's just being stubborn?" Dr. Wilson asked sarcastically as he walked over to the bar table in the room to make himself a coffee.

  "He's alive because you were wrong," Dr. Foreman responded sharply, following Wilson to also make a coffee. "It's not Wegener’s."

  "Yeah, I seem to be doing that a lot tely," House decred with fake disappoi. "I'm so sorry, people keep living because of my mistakes," he added, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated humility, causing Dr. Foreman to shake his head in exasperation.

  "The progression of the paralysis pretty much firmed Hamilton was right," Cameron said slowly, looking at House with disappoi. "It’s A.L.S."

  "Assuming this is a progression of his paralysis," House replied casually, shrugging.

  "He ’t move his arm," Chase said, frowning with obviousness.

  "Yes, his arm is paralyzed, and yes, his legs are paralyzed," House replied, nodding slowly with each affirmation. "Why is everyone so gung-ho to ect those two ditions?" A moment ter, House asked, feigning frustration as he raised his hands dramatically.

  "His arm paralysis could be the result of a stroke when he was intubated," I offered, trying to add to House’s theory, causing Dr. Foreman to slowly shake his head in disappoi.

  "Thanks," House said triumphantly, pointing at me with a smile. "You think we're wrong, but that’s no reason to stop thinking," he said pointing to both me and himself, addressing Dr. Foreman.

  "How about this one?" Foreman asked fidently. "He's not our patient," he added decisively.

  "Nope, not good enough," House replied smugly after pretending to think for a moment with his hand on his .

  "I like the stroke theory," Cameron murmured, shrugging. "Blood clots are on in paralyzed patients," Cameron quickly expined seeing the betrayed look Dr. Foreman gave her, "The inactivity causes—"

  "Not ied in why," House interrupted Cameron abruptly. "Let’s get an M.R. angiogram, check for an embolic stroke."

  "He doesn’t want you treating him," Dr. Foreman said frustratedly, stopping House from saying anything further.

  "They dropped the court order," House defended himself quickly, shrugging.

  "Yeah, and they dropped the charges against Ted Kennedy," Dr. Wilson said jokingly. "Doesn’t mean he should call the family and see if they’re free to get a sundae," he added, causing everyone in the room to look at him strangely, not uanding his joke.

  "Good point," House decred sarcastically. "But I go within 50 feet of him now," he added, raising his free hand to his side as he walked out of the room.

  "And that is our cue to go," I said, smiling at Diane as I checked my watch, prompting the rest of the doctors in the room to check their own watches.

  House was right whealked about my punctuality. If there were anything urgeo do in the case, I obviously wouldn’t leave. If I was corred the patient had a clot, the operation to remove it wouldn’t happen until the day, likely in the m. Otherwise—

  "What, now?" Diane asked, surprised as she g the wall clo the room. "But you haven’t fihe case," she added, strangely nervous.

  "Oh, it’s over," Dr. Foreman joked, sipping his coffee. A sed ter, still holding the cup to his lips, he frowned. "I’m sorry, who are you?" he asked, seemingly notig Diane’s presence for the first time.

  "Diane Adler," Diane said, standing and smiling faintly at Cameron in farewell as she introduced herself.

  "All right," Dr. Foreman muttered, still fused but dismissing the situation as unimportant.

  "See you tomorrow?" Chase asked.

  "Yeah, maybe early in the m. Depends on what House finds," I replied easily, nodding.

  Upon hearing my words, Dr. Foreman muttered to himself, shaking his head and exhaling in obvious frustration.

  "Well, enjoy it while you don’t have a tract," Dr. Wilson said sarcastically, sipping his coffee. "Meanwhile, the rest of us will keep w our shifts," he added with a sigh as I walked out of the lounge.

  "Well, see you tomorrow, PJ," Cameron said, stretg her tired bad smiling faintly. "Dia was a real pleasure meeting you," she added, smiling at Diane. "We have to talk again," she said meaningfully, gng at me as she tinued speaking to my friend.

  "Isn’t it hard?" Diane asked as we walked down the hospital corridors toward the exit.

  "What?" I asked, puzzled.

  "Leaving patients and going home," Diane expined, gng at me sideways.

  "Yes," I said after a long moment, surprised by Diane’s suddenly loaded question. I remembered every patient I had to leave behind at the hospital’s doors over the years. "But eventually, you learn to cope, I think."

  "I don’t think I simply go home," Diane murmured to herself.

  "At first, I don’t think anyone ," I said, smiling at Diane slowly. "Just leaving your responsibilities at the hospital and going home. But there es a time when you realize there are other things more important outside the hospital—your family, friends, loved ones, yourself," I added calmly. "Well, obviously, if there’s an emergency that requires all hands on deck, you won’t leave when your shift ends. But in cases like this, where there’s no immi emergency, it’s different."

  "I think I uand," Diane said, nodding sloouting slightly.

  "Gd to hear it," I said, amused.

  After saying goodbye to the nurses from afar—who seemed very ied, chatting and smiling as they g Diane—we arrived at my car in the hospital’s reception area.

  "Do you wao take you home?" I asked Diane as I checked my watch, worried because she seemed a bit tired. "I’m still heading to the gym. It’s a noisy pce full of guys who smell like sweat," I added with a faint smile, looking Diane in the eye. It would be quite amusing to pare calm Diao everyo the gym.

  "I’d like to see your martial arts training if it’s not a problem for you," Diane said slowly, opening her eyes wide and keeping her gaze fixed on mine.

  "You might regret it," I replied jokingly after a couple of seds of losing myself in Diane’s rge eyes and swallowing with some difficulty.

  "Why?" Diane asked, fused.

  "I sweat a lot, and the drive from the gym to the ranch is anything but short," I said, smiling mischievously at Diane.

  "I don’t think you’re capable of smelling bad. Since I’ve known you, you always give off a pleasant st," Diane decred, frowning and speaking as if stating simple facts. "Even when we went to the public pool."

  "Well, thanks," I said, slightly embarrassed, sure Diane hadn’t realized how bold her words were.

  The drive to the gym was uful aside from Diane stantly pig which songs to py.

  "Is this it?" Diane asked, puzzled, as we arrived at the parking lot of the small strip mall where the gym was located.

  The pce, sandwiched between a video rental store and a mini supermarket, had no sign advertising the business. Instead, it featured a rge window allowing people to see those training inside.

  "Yep, wele to Case Walker’s dojo," I decred theatrically, opening my arms as we walked toward the gym.

  "PJ, my man!" when I opehe gym door, one of the ts closest to it, a man who had been training with us sihe gym opened, said happily when he saw me.

  "Mister Sanderson," I replied with a smile, matg his enthusiasm.

  "Oh," the man said, briefly losing his smile as he looked behind me in surprise.

  "Yeah, Mister Sanderson, this is Diane," I said, stepping aside and knowily why the man was surprised as I introduced my friend.

  "Ma’am," Mr. Sanderson said with a wide smile, bowing his head slightly.

  Apart from the visit from my mom, Mrs. Cooper, or Meemaw on the gym’s opening day, no other woman had set foot ihe pce. Outside, however, many women who visited the other stores would stop for a few seds in front of the wide window to see what was going on inside.

  As Diane greeted with a small wave, I noticed, slightly amused, how she wrinkled her nose, clearly due to the smell of the gym.

  Quickly, just like Mr. Sanderson, everyone else in the gym noticed Diane’s presence beside me, causing the previously noisy room to fall pletely silent.

  "e on people, the bell hasn’t ru!" Tim, walking toward us and g loudly, broke the silen the room, prompting everyoo get back to work. "So you must be Diane Adler. I’ve heard so much about you," he said with a broad smile, extending his hand.

  "I suppose you’re referring to things PJ has said and not that you’ve read any of my papers," Diane replied formally, taking his ically rge hand pared to hers. "If that’s the case, I’ve also heard a lot about you."

  "Oh really?" Tim asked, smiling at me, apparently choosing to ighe first part of Diane’s response.

  "Yes, PJ told me you were an impressively rge man, making it quite difficult to beat you in a fight, but that he still mao do so most of the time," Diaated calmly and shamelessly, likely paraphrasing one of our many versations, which, as I now knew, she had pletely memorized.

  Her words made me choke on my own saliva.

  "Oh, 'most of the time,' huh?" Tim asked, smiling though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, as he tilted his head slightly at me.

  "Well, that sounds like a direct challenge," Case decred with a cocky smile from nearby, raising one of his eyebrows. "Let’s figure it out in the ring. Go warm up," he ordered, nodding toward the gym while walking closer to Diane. "Case Walker," he introduced himself kindly, extending his hand to my friend.

  "Diane, when they’re done, you sit in that chair if you want," I said quickly, pointing to the tall chair behind the reception desk, trying not to interrupt Case or Diane.

  "Go warm up," Case ordered me, not so kindly, waving his now-free hand toward me.

  "Yes, sir," I said jokingly, giving the most pathetic imitation of a military salute, only because Case had his bae, and walked into the gym seriously.

  A little while ter, both Tim and Case joined me. Tim was doing his own warm-up, while Case tinued with his coag.

  "'Most of the time,'" Tim murmured with a huff while stretg on the floor, shaking his head.

  "e on, I didn’t mean it like that," I said nervously, opening my hands, worried my friend might actually be upset.

  Tim simply frow me, staring ily for a moment.

  "I know, I’m just messing with you," he finally said after a couple of seds, losing his frown and smiling broadly. "If I were trying to impress a girl, I’d do the same thing, but unlike you, I actually win most of our sparring matches."

  Surprised by Tim’s slightly arrogant words, I raised one of my eyebrows and remained silent for several seds. "We’ll see then," I muttered, narrowing my eyes while warming up one of my shoulders by pushing my elbow with my forearm.

  "I guess we will," Tim said with a slow nod, bending down to touch his toes without bending his knees even slightly.

  Now feeling petitive, I focused much more on warming up. For some reason, this sparring sessio far more crucial than any of the many others we’d had over time.

  While warming up, I occasionally g Diane, who sat several steps away in the reception area, seemingly reading the ating book.

  Not long after, dressed appropriately for what we were about to do—sports shorts and anti-slip shoes—Tim and I geared up with loves.

  "You o work on your footwork and takedowns. Keep yuard up at all times," Case said seriously as he checked that my gloves were on properly and helped me fit my mouthguard, having already dohe same for Tim.

  In this type of sparring, where we treated it like a real fight, Case would usually give advice to both fighters before starting. Si would be unfair to receive help between rounds, others would act as the ers for the fighters, simply providing water and wiping sweat.

  As we stepped into the ring, as always happened when Tim and I sparred, the rest of the gym excitedly cheered, standing just a few steps away from the a.

  "You got this, Champ," my er, Mr. Sanderson, said, g me on the back with a friendly but firm pat. "Just do that ground thing you do."

  Like the vast majority of people in the gym, Mr. Sanderson, being a much more traditional Texan man, trained mostly in boxing under Case’s guidance, sidering the jiu-jitsu Case taught as nothing more than 'ground things'.

  Grateful for his encement, I nodded and offered my fist, which Mr. Sanderson quickly bumped with a big smile.

  "Okay, we’re treating this like a real fight. That means s. You know the rules of my house: no hits to the back of the head, no eye pokes, no low blows, listen to my instrus, and protect yourselves at all times," Case said seriously, holding Tim and me by the shoulders in the ter of the ring. "Touch gloves."

  In a small ritual Tim and I alerformed before sparring, we exged an intricate fist bump and nodded before heading to our ers.

  "Ready?" Case asked, pointing at me. I nodded. "Ready?" he repeated, this time pointing at Tim. "Go," Case ordered, stepping back against the ropes.

  Quickly raising my guard, I walked to the ter of the ring with my hand outstretched for a sed fist bump.

  Tim was definitely stronger and taller than me, giving him much more read power in his punches.

  As we exged blows, I mostly tried to redirect or avoid direct hits. However, redireg Tim’s punches was much easier said than done.

  "e on, Champ, you’re letting him press you," I miraculously heard Mr. Sanderson’s voice over the cheers and shouts of encement. "Start hitting back."

  Although Mr. Sanderson wasn’t Case, and his advice wasn’t always 100% accurate, he was right this time.

  Feigning a low ki’s leg, I mao make him instinctively focus on abs the hit, giving me an opening to take a solid step and nd a pun the side of his face—my first hit sihe fight started.

  While Tim was slightly stunned by the hit, I took the opportunity to move quickly and gain his back.

  "Good!" Mr. Sanderson shouted excitedly from my er, though he probably didn’t fully uand what was happening.

  Without wasting a sed, I used one of Tim’s legs as a kind of dder to position myself for an arm lock, trying to swing my leg over his shoulder and across his chest. Unfortunately, Tim, knowing what I was attempting, mao free his arm and used his weight to take us down.

  Knowing that I couldn’t do much with Tim on top of me, I used forearm and elbow strikes to fend him off, shielding myself from his blows. Taking advantage of the fact that Tim wasn’t focused on a ground submission, I quickly wriggled out, pushing off with my legs.

  Once "free" of Tim’s reach, I immediately rolled away on the ground, creating space between him and me.

  "Not scared at all, Champ, not at all," Mr. Sanderson shouted again, g with a big grin.

  Breathing slightly heavily and now covered in a sheen of sweat, I prepared once more for another round of strikes with Tim, who was also standing with his guard up, equally sweaty.

  Pung people was definitely a great cardio workout.

  Nodding at Tim, I slowly walked with him to the ter of the ring. But before we could start exging blows, the bell rang, stopping us both abruptly.

  Smiling at my friend, we bumped fists once more before walking back to our ers.

  "A hell of a fight," people outside the ring shouted words of encement as I walked to my er.

  "You're doing incredibly good Champ, by the way, it looks like I have some help," Mr. Sanderson pointing with his head said with a smile as he handed me water from my bottle. At that moment, alongside Mr. Sanderson, Diane’s incredibly delicate and cold hands, holding a towel, began to dry my fad head.

  "You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to," I said betweehs, after letting Mr. Sanderson take my mouthguard, as I noticed the nervous expression on Diane’s face.

  "I’m fine here. Just please don’t let yourself get hit too much," Diane said slowly, with what sounded like a lump ihroat, as she carefully dried the sides of my head.

  "I’ll do my best," I said seriously trying not to snort, notig Diane’s .

  It was much easier said than done.

  Before I could say anything else, I noticed Mr. Sanderson weakly nudging Diane’s arm, as if encio do something. Noddiedly and quickly, Diane seemed to gather her ce before, with her hands still on my face, leaning in to give me a quid nervous kiss on the cheek.

  "Good luck," Diane murmured, stepping back.

  It was just sparring, really nothing to lose... but I was definitely going to win.

  ---

  Author Thoughts:

  As always, I'm not Ameri, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

  With that said,

  I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

  Thank you for reading! :D

  PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.