Page 46 of The Breaking Pointe

my number one

COLTON

With a glimmer in my eye, enjoying my last minutes of feeling good, I peer down at Noelle as she spreads oil against the skin of my stomach.

Her face is illuminating with happiness as she seeks out every inch of my chest, lathering it without fame— sneaking in short glances at me as I stand content and in place.

“I should do this more often,” she professes.

“I’m thoroughly enjoying it, but I still don’t understand the significance,” I jive with slight laughter.

“Cause.” She pauses her arm movement, looking up at me completely. “You’re tan under the lights, and it adds to how scrumptious your body looks,” she advises with a witty grin, bringing my eyes to her cherry colored lip gloss.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I mutter, leaning in to connect my lips with the sweet flavor on hers.

With a soft exhale out of her nose, she falls into my gesture, kissing me back with a smile growing cheek to cheek.

“Alright, let’s go, we got twenty minutes and we need to be walking to the ring in five!”

Trey marches into the dressing room, promoting Noelle and I with loud, repetitive clapping, twisting our attention from each other and onto him.

Noelle throws her head back, sighing as she begins to collect things.

“Cole, I have all the things you need already waiting. Put your robe on and we need to hurry up before they play your entrance music,”

Trey instructs.

“You make it sound so serious.”

I snicker, reaching for my robe as Noelle shuffles back over to me with her purse and a bag full of her things.

“It is serious.”

Trey eyeballs me, holding onto his tightened jaw, but losing it in a matter of seconds to a chuckle and give a head shake.

“I love you. Do great. I know you will. I’ll be right there on the side, watching,”

Noelle says, lifting herself to kiss my cheek.

Taking her chin into my fingers, I direct her face to mine, giving her one more kiss and holding it there for my satisfaction.

“I love you,”

I say after finally freeing her.

As I pull away, she follows up with more affirmation, as she always does.

“And no matter what happens, you’re always my number one, okay?”

She raises her eyebrow, proclaiming her words to me.

The best affirmation any man could ever receive. “Okay.”

I nod. “Thank you,” I say.

“Okay,”

she replies, flashing a smile before she struts her way out of the dressing room, leaving me to put my robe on.

Her voice is gonna be playing in my head like a broken record during this entire endeavor. I feel like a superhero, but at the same time, I also feel like a townsman in a great deal of trouble.

I want to get this over with, and I’m too aware that it’s going to take everything I got, and possibly more.

I love the faith that everyone has in me, though. Now my head is the size of a hot air balloon. Right now, I think I need to keep that momentum, so long as it distracts me from my nervous system spazzing out and throwing me off my game.

“Everything you trained for, it’s time to lay it all out. Don’t hold back, but remember your rules, alright?”

Trey says, walking to the door and waiting for me as I grab my gloves and begin to put them on.

“Right. Don’t kill him.”

I smile, approaching him at the door. His face dulls in disappointment.

“I’m kidding, good God,”

I bellow, smiling as he opens the door, waiting for me to walk out.

“I’ve never seen you this preppy before an event,”

he says, following me as I exit the room and begin to walk down the hall. “Everything has been going my way recently. I have a good feeling,”

I state, stuffing my mouth guard in my mouth with my

one bare hand, then putting my other glove on.

We finally reach the entrance doors and stop in our tracks, both turning to face each other.

“Well—”

Trey begins, but is interrupted by the loud speaker announcing my upcoming arrival, followed by muffled, blaring music.

Trey looks at the doors for a second and then at me. “Good luck.”

He half smiles, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I smile, giving him a nod.

I tighten the straps of my gloves, feeling the familiar grip of leather against my palms.

My muscles are starting to tingle with a mix of adrenaline and anticipation—each nerve buzzing like live wires.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of my gloves.

The roaring crowd is nearly vibrating through my bones, and we aren’t even standing out there.

They know. Most of them do, at least—that this isn’t just a fight. It’s personal. Every scar, every confrontation, every instance leading up to this moment has brought me to this very spot.

My heart is pounding with a newfound purpose in this world.

The heavy doors finally swing open, sending me to step onto the path to the ring.

The air is thick, charged with electricity and energy.

Walking up the long aisle, I take notice of how the walls are lined with banners and flashing lights, reflecting the chaos of the spectacle waiting ahead.

My footsteps are only audible to me, almost stomping against the polished floor to move myself, firmly and deliberately.

As the crowd becomes more visible, I flicker my eyes around the arena to view thousands of faces— some shouting, some silent, some just plain fucking happy—yet my focus stays unbroken. I’m too locked into the onward battle.

I guess in a way, so are they.

By the time I fully reach the visible eye, the music is kicking into full crescendo, and simultaneously I see him, already in his corner.

I can nearly see flames in my eyes at the sight of him, knowing I have to wait a little bit longer to lunge my fists at him.

I knew he’d look questionably awful, but that was an addition, this time. He looks like all he has on his mind in this moment is murder at my expense.

We’re on the same page, and this will be the first and only time I make that a thing.

Reaching the ring, I grab the ropes and pull myself up and into the ring, finally getting a good look around the arena, seeing the audience for who they really are.

In my observance, I waver my gaze down to my team to see Noelle and Steven.

Noelle looks reserved but smiling like she’d never seen anything like this before, while Steven yells and rages off the handle in my name.

Trey uses the same method as me and gets into the ring, cupping my face. “Here we go. Meet him in the middle. Make me proud,”

he commands, giving my arms a quick pat before leaving me in the middle of the ring to watch Daniel replace him

and walk up to me.

Unsure of whether or not to hold my fists out for him to bump, I stand there with my arms dropped to my sides, giving him a straight face to prepare myself for whatever he has up his sleeve. “Fancy meeting you here, like this. Again,”

he says playfully. Examining his face, I peep a gross, rat mustache growing on his upper lip, then look at every other part of his face to take my mind off of the visual of such monstrosity.

Don’t say anything. Keep your comments to yourself because anything can be used against you.

The referee joins us in the middle, going over basic rules to the audience, but my ears can’t help but to tune him out as I fix combinations in my head to start out with.

“Nothing to say now? You had a lot of shit to boast about before,”

Daniel badgers me, resisting his own urge to step closer into my vicinity.

Physically swallowing my pride, I shut my eyes for a second, waiting for the referee to speak to us.

“Alright, are both of you men ready?”

he asks, prompting my eyes to launch open.

I nod my head, and so does Daniel. “Any words, or concerns?” he adds.

“No,”

I murmur through my mouth piece.

Daniel gives me the most evil of smiles before looking at the referee. “This should be quick.”

He looks at both of us, sighing and shaking his head. “On the sound of the bell.”

He points at both of us, backing away slowly. From the slight sound of the bell, Daniel’s eyes switch to a setting of burning hatred, signaling to me that he is here not just for victory, but for redemption over anything else—though

he’s beyond psycho for not admitting his wrong doings.

The ring becomes a battle ground as our limbs collide in savage chaos.

Each punch from either of us feels like it can break a bone.

He’s already aggressive, snarling like a beast, ready to tear through flesh.

We exchange the first few blows—quick jabs, and then a direct throw at the middle of my face that snaps my head back.

But I lunge back, holding on and taking the fuel. Now my face is stinging, and so are my insides.

“Gotcha!”

He laughs, dancing around me like a circus clown.

Shaking myself back into shape, I throw my body back into motion, returning the similar, but harder straight shot at his mouth.

His head bobs back, I’m sure similarly to mine, if not worse.

His eyes come back to me, his face reddening.

“You son of a bitch!” he snaps.

He then charges at me, tossing whatever moves his fists can manage out of anger, and I stick my feet into the floor of the ring, standing my ground as I dodge what I can—doing my best not to sniffle up the blood trickling down my nose now.

We each are showing strength beyond comparison, and neither man is budging.

But his fists are different from mine in ways I forgot about.

He is relentlessly aiming for my jaw, my ribs, my face— every shot delivered with a brutal intensity that speaks of over a year’s worth of bad blood.

Rage is officially blinding him, one hundred-percent now, and he is seeing what he can try.

This time, his chest bumps me back.

Stumbling back, slightly, I watch him, getting back into his stance. “Come on. Don’t be a bitch,”

he says, breathing heavily.

Fine. Time to really get to work.

Meeting him head-on, I push myself in his direction, launch- ing a fist and glove, feeling it connect with his ribs, followed by the shift of muscle and bone. It was wonderful form, but not strong enough.

He retaliates with a brutal right hook, causing blood to drum in my ears when he catches me flush on the cheek.

Pain ignites my vision, sending me into a bent over position, but before I can get comfortable, I pull myself up, successfully, inhaling what feels like all the air in the world and using it to send a vicious uppercut that catches him square on the chin.

He stumbles in a small pattern of directions until suddenly accepting his wound and dropping to his knees.

What feels like what is lasting for ages of a round, was just the beginning of the tide turning.

We are equally battered with sweat and blood mixing together— they’re indistinguishable now—and we can’t help but want to push each other to our limits.

“That’s round one!”

The referee grabs my wrist, raising my arm in the air to signal my winning for the first round, then drops it just as quickly.

I feel two arms grab my shoulder from behind with a towel and lead me to my chair in my corner to sit me down.

“Atta-boy!”

Trey laughs, smacking my chest and stealing my mouth guard.

I blink my eyes a few times as his face comes into focus. “Open up.”

He points at me, holding a water bottle above my head.

I lean my head back, blinking some more as I open my mouth and feel water fill up in it. I close it, and as it runs down my throat, I already start to feel hydrated.

“My fucking face…”

I pant, searching for my breath.

“Yeah, I know, hold still,”

he says, holding the towel to my nose.

Closing my eyes again, I let him aide me, but they jump open instantly when I feel soft fingers on my ankle.

“Colton!”

a voice pleads from below me.

I look over my shoulder to my trapped ankle and see Noelle. “You okay?”

she calls up to me.

Knowing it’s her touch, my body feels a sense of healing. Nodding, I respond loudly through the roaring of the crowd.

“Course I am, sweetheart,”

I say with a wink.

She’s able to gimme a smile briefly before Trey turns my head back to his directions, dabbing my nose more. He then stands me up and shoves my mouthpiece back into my mouth.

“Lock in.”

He nods, firmly squeezing the back of my neck before leading me to the middle to face the monster once again.

Everything is moving so fast.

I blink and my break is over like that. Daniel having knocked some sense into me and seeing my angel of a companion is like starting over again.

Only this time, everything is beginning to sting.

Daniel stands before me, battered in the face, but holding a proud expression as if he had so far proved his point.

The referee is beside us again, reciting his ritual, and letting the bell ring— to all of which my ears had fallen numb to.

At this point, I’m leading with motion and keeping my reflexes sharp.

“I’m playing fair,”

he exasperates, shaking out his arms. “Are you?”

I take a moment to decide wisely on my response. Yes or no answers may be the only thing that can’t get me in trouble.

“No,”

I say kindly.

This time, the storm is brewing inside of me.

I wait for the bell to finish its singing to then throw the first punch—a desperate haymaker aimed straight for his cheekbone.

My blow sends him flying into a corner with no seats.

Catching himself on one knee, the crowd then decides to react in despair for his well-being.

When he gets stabilized, he stands up straight and slow, like something out of a horror film.

His eyes are glazed, his veins bulging in his neck, and he comes after me, swinging a blow to my head.

Just in time, I duck—but not before he surprises me with reckless abandon, hitting me in my side.

The ambiance of the crowd fades away, and replacing it is the sound of the cracking of his glove against my flesh, then my pulse, and then our ragged breaths as I nearly fall backwards, catching my footing at the last second.

Gasping for air finally, I let out a blustering groan, holding my side as I try to keep the fleeting pain under control.

The same side he stabbed. The same side. Now it’s time to react. Fuck a third round.

Taking another deep breath, the sound of different voices distinguish themselves in my ears. And loudest of all is Noelle, standing in my corner like it’s life or death, right here and now. “You wanna try again? You gonna be a bitch?”

Daniel yells,

holding his fists up as though he decided he’s in the lead.

I do want to try again, but it’ll be the last time I ever have to. I’m gonna make sure of it.

He opens his mouth, as if fixing to yell some more absurd backtalk to me, but I’m already getting a move on with my big finale.

Ignoring his banter and the sweat in my eyes, my muscles scream in protest as I tread toward him and take one big step into faking out a temple jab for an uppercut.

And instead of leaving it there—I keep it going.

Punch, jab, strike, pound—every single possible form of brutal connection I can make with both of my gloves, back to back.

They’re soaked on the inside with sweat, and soon to be soaked on the outside with blood.

Every blow feels like I’m mashing my fists into a steel that’s slowly dissolving into Jell-O as I watch him grow weaker while fighting to get one hit in—and failing miserably.

Even still, I have to keep going until he gives up.

I refuse to show any mercy for him.

He never did for anybody else.

I’m battered and bloody, but unbowed.

I stand resolute amid the chaos.

My chest heaves with every single move, trembling with exhaustion from the inside out.

Every punch I throw is a defiance of the pain threatening to swallow me whole.

My mind is full of fog, and my knuckles are probably cracking from the overwhelming intensity of using my full body strength against his steroid-filled shell.

With three more good hits left in me, I release them each onto different parts of his body before taking into account that he has been ready to give up for more than a minute.

He rushes backward, blinking away stars as he falls on his ass and onto his back.

Taking a couple inhalations of air, I watch his face mush against the floor as it turns to the side upon impact, splattering blood on the white canvas.

My fingertips are tingling, and I can feel multiple beads of sweat dripping down my face—burning me in some areas.

Watching him twitch and fight his defeat, I feel almost scared.

Like I have to wait for sure to know that he’s really down, for good.

My rival. Her tormentor.

The man whose cruel smirk has haunted us for years.

I can hear the crowd roaring around me, but it all sounds muffled.

Feeling the fleeting sense of deja-vu from the first round, I watch the referee yell into the atmosphere as he lifts my arm up, yet again.

“And the winner?! Colton Kennedy!”

he yells as he extends his words. Despite his words, I still can’t grasp reality.

The weight of two men jumping on me from each side pulls me from my disbelief, shaking me around and blasting their excitement in my ears.

“What did I say?! You tore his ass a new one!”

Trey yells on one side of me, freeing me of my mouth guard in the process. “You’re a fucking winner! I’m gonna get your belt!”

he continues as he peels off into the crowd around us.

“You like—ended his entire existence!”

Steven yells on the other side of me.

Watching as confetti pieces fall onto my arms and the floor, I observe both of them with a weak smile on my face.

“You guys are rattling my already shook brain,”

I grunt, clenching my eyes closed as I chuckle.

“You need to be rattled more, what do you mean?”

Steven laughs, hugging my sweat-saturated body.

I bring my arms around him, holding him close to me as I squeeze him.

“You didn’t tell me you were my number one fan.”

I chuckle some more.

“Me? You should see Noelle—she’s kinda bat shit, too.”

Steven points in the direction behind me, motioning to Noelle.

I pull away, kissing his head. “Thank you. I love you, kid.”

“I get that you just won and everything, Cole, but…don’t be gross, okay?”

He smirks, nudging me toward Noelle and leaving me with a smile plastered on my face.

When I turn to face her, she’s standing in all her glory— glowing as if the light shines down on her and her only.

“You’re still the most handsome man here, I’ll have you know it,”

she tells me, standing with her hands propped behind her back.

“Even with a bruised nose and several cuts?”

I ask, treading closer to her.

“You might be bruised, but my man’s a winner. A warrior. My protector. Who else in this building can say that right now?”

she suggests confidently, developing a smile.

“You know that I did it because of you? And that I’m only able to do it because of you?”

I question her, biting at the leather on my gloves and tearing them loose to pop my gloves off. I rub my hands against my shorts before taking her hands into mine.

“How?”

she asks, looking up at me as we lock fingers. “Because…in this moment, I feel unbreakable. You helped

carve me into someone stronger than I ever thought I could be.

I stand tall.

I’ve faced my demons—tonight being one of the biggest ones of all, and I came out victorious.

Like I’m born again. In all of my madness, you were my peace. You’re bigger than the belt, or any other reward I could receive.”

I take my time to clarify everything. Every detail of this moment between us.

“Colton?”

she quietly urges.

“Yeah?”

I nod, stepping closer until there’s minute space between us.

“I need you to kiss me.”

She dazzles me with her magnificent laughter and bewitching smile.

Cupping her cheeks into my palms, I lift her face to meet mine, pausing before I give her what she wants. “I love you,”

I whisper hoarsely, finally smashing my lips into hers.

This is my golden belt. She is my reward. This is my breaking point.