The Vegas Fight, Part 2

With a shake of his arms, Seth tilts his head to the ceiling, exposing the thick column of his throat, and he closes his eyes. His chest falls as he lets out a long, slow breath. What I wouldn't give to know what he's thinking. Is he nervous? Scared? Neither?

A small eternity later, the referee calls both the men to the middle of the ring. He demands a good, clean fight, then sends them back to their corner. With a clap of his hands, the fight begins.

Seth plays it cool, each step premeditated and predatory. Don, however, goes in guns blazing. Shooting forward, and swallowing up the distance, Don swings hard and fast, his fists flying through the air like sledgehammers. He wants to make sure that, if he connects, Seth won't get back up.

I yank my blanket from Chase and pull it up to my chin. I clench my teeth together. My fingers twitch with the urge to hide under the blanket until it's over, but I told Seth I'd watch the fight.

And I want to watch it...