Chapter 8: The Grind

The gymnasium buzzed with a different kind of energy at dawn. The morning air was crisp and refreshing. Caleb stood at the center of the mat with his arms crossed. His eyes burned with a fire Tyler hadn’t seen before.

Tyler stepped onto the mat. This was a private session. He knew Elena was around, but he couldn’t see her. Caleb had promised to put him through hell to bridge the gap of experience. Tyler wanted to see what he had in store for him.

“Basics, Reed,” Caleb barked. “You think your fancy spins make you a wrestler? I will show you what wrestling is all about. We’re drilling fundamentals until they’re burned into your bones.”

Tyler nodded. Caleb’s intensity didn’t scare him. He wanted to prove he could take it. Elena’s belief in him had lit a spark in his heart. He wanted to win for her.

Caleb wasted no time. He started with stance drills. He forced Tyler to hold a low, balanced posture for minutes at a time. “Lower!” Caleb snapped while circling like a hawk. “You’re wide open for a takedown.”

Tyler gritted his teeth and held his position. His thighs started screaming in pain. His sweat drops covered the mat, his muscles quivered, but he refused to break.

Next came sprawls. Endless, grueling sprawls. Caleb mimicked attacks at random. He lunged at Tyler’s legs to force him off balance. Then he showed him how to drop his hips and spread his weight to counter.

“Faster, Reed! Derek would’ve had you pinned by now!” Caleb shouted.

Tyler’s lungs burned, but he pushed through. His body was learning the rhythm through sheer repetition. Caleb’s dedication was unrelenting. He adjusted Tyler’s form with precise, almost obsessive corrections. Each correction was emphasized with a sharp slap. Each sting burned in Tyler’s mind but he did not protest. While Caleb enjoyed this method, the fire in Tyler’s eyes burned brighter. The sharp crack of flesh on flesh continued to ring as Tyler surrendered to his teaching.

Caleb called for a break when he noticed Tyler’s legs started to wobble. Tyler collapsed onto the mat with ragged breath. His body was half-dead, but his mind was sharp. The insights he had gained were immense. While he digested the correct forms, his mind was working on his own twists he could add. He was not only looking for his own advantages; he was thinking about how he could exploit the minor mistakes Caleb pointed out in his upcoming match.

“Get up,” Caleb called firmly. “We’re not done. Double-leg takedowns next. You’re going to execute them like you’ve been doing this for a decade.”

Tyler hauled himself to his feet. He ignored the pain and focused on matching Caleb’s intensity. He had never seen Caleb so passionate before.

Caleb continued to drill him through takedowns, counters, and escapes. He focused on precision for each move. Tyler’s body protested, but his will hold firm. Elena’s proud smile kept flashing through his mind to fuel him on.

Tyler was a wreck by the end of three hours. He was soaked in sweat, his muscles trembling, and his vision blurry. He staggered to the bench and barely managed to sit upright.

Caleb clapped his shoulder. “Good work, Reed. You’re starting to look like a wrestler.”

Tyler managed a weak grin. “Told you I could handle it.”

Caleb’s lips twitched. “We’ll see about that.” He then left him alone.

Tyler watched Caleb’s departing figure. His gaze dropped to his wrist, where Caleb had slapped him. Then he felt the sting on every part of his body where Caleb had struck. ‘Seventy four,’ he mumbled. He had been counting.

Unable to move anymore, Tyler fell asleep sitting up. Elena woke him up with a splash of water. She was dressed in a sports bra and leggings. She was here to push him further. The fire in her gaze told him she’d show no mercy.

“Ready for round two?” she asked with a challenge.

Tyler groaned. “You’re kidding, right? Caleb already killed me.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “Caleb’s building your foundation. I’m making you untouchable. Now, get on the mat.”

Tyler dragged himself to the yoga mat by sheer willpower. His body was screaming in pain, but his heart raced at her proximity.

Elena’s training was a different kind of hell. She started with dynamic stretches. She forced Tyler into deep lunges and twists that made his muscles cry out.

“Focus on your breathing,” she commanded. Her hands were firm on his hips as she pushed him deeper into a hip opener. Her touch was confident, bordering on intimate. The more Tyler struggled, the more forceful she got. She didn’t care if her breasts brushed his arms or if her thighs pressed against him. She used her body to support him when his muscles buckled to hold the posture.