Meet Me in Manhattan (True Vows) by Judith Arnold Read Free Book Online

voyeuristically.
    "This is interesting," she said when the first bout was over,
with a win for the Mendham featherweight.
    "Not exactly like show jumping, huh," Allyson replied.
    Indeed, it wasn't. It wasn't like any sport she'd ever watched.
The wrestlers were a team, but they competed solo. There was a
rawness to their bouts, something profoundly elemental. No
equipment was used, no bats, no balls, no sticks or pads, and
instead of helmets they wore what appeared to be glorified ear
muffs strapped over their skulls and under their chins. Given the
intimacy of the wrestlers' combat, she imagined that unprotected
ears would be vulnerable to injury.
    Another pair of wrestlers began their bout. The whistle blew. A
buzzer sounded. They rounded each other, gripped each other's
waists, bent and stretched and contorted. The visiting wrestler
won that bout. His victory was greeted by a smattering of joyful hoots from the visiting school's fans.

    "Our next bout will be at one thirty-five," the announcer said.
Erika instinctively glanced toward the wall clock above the locker
room door, then realized the announcer was referring to the
weight class, not the time. Turning back to the mat, she saw Ted
Skala rise from the bench, strap on his ear-protecting head gear,
and stride to the mat.
    He was wearing a game face, not the smile Erika was used to
seeing whenever they crossed paths in school or at parties. His
jaw was set, his gaze steel-hard. His opponent was a couple of
inches shorter and much beefier, his neck as thick as Erika's thigh
and his shoulders round with muscle.
    "Go, Ted!" a voice a few benches below Erika cried. Craning
her neck, she spotted Ted's girlfriend Kate, blond and beautiful
and leaning forward, her arms wrapped around her knees and
her head tilted to one side so her hair spilled delicately over her
shoulder.
    Ted ignored her.
    Erika watched. There was something almost erotic about the
way Ted and the other boy came together, their bodies so close,
their arms wrapped around each other, their legs intertwined.
Erotic yet ferocious. The other boy looked strong enough to pick
Ted up and slam him to the mat, but Ted was sly. He was quick.
He broke out of the other boy's embrace, stretched, reached, and
suddenly the other boy was down. They tangled together at the
center of the circle, Ted straddling the other boy, the other boy
trying to writhe free, Ted scissoring his legs, winding his hand
around the other boy's shoulder.
    He was sweaty and supple and sinewy. And surprisingly strong
for such a lanky guy.
    The referee got down on his hands and knees next to the two wrestlers. He angled his head, he leaned in and out. He gauged
the other boy's shoulders, measured with his eyes how close they
were to the mat, and counted to three. He blew his whistle; the
buzzer sounded. Ted released the boy, stood, and backed away,
breathing hard.

    "That was a pin," Allyson unnecessarily informed Erika.
    "I figured that out."
    "The earlier bouts were decided on points. It's cool when you
get a real pin. Ted is so good."
    Erika had figured that out, too.
    The meet continued, but none of the other bouts held Erika's
attention the way Ted's had. The bigger boys made louder thumps
when they hit the mats. They grunted more, perspired more,
shook the gym more. But they lacked Ted's grace. He'd looked like
a dancer on the mat. A calculating dancer, one who seemed to rely
on his brain as much as his arms and legs to best his opponent.
    She could relate to that. Some sports were pure instinct, but
she had always found riding as intellectual as it was physical.
Riding was a dance between her and her mount. Whatever the
horse did, she had to adjust, rethink, strategize.
    She'd sensed Ted's mind churning the entire time he'd been
wrestling. He'd been fierce, aggressive, but never out of control,
never acting reflexively. At least that was how he'd appeared to
her. He'd stepped onto the mat,