Strap in folks, this one got looooong. Been working on this since before I started Gala Grudgematch like, half a year ago. This is part 1, there are 4 more parts to come.
As the subject says, this one was inspired by "Competition" by Sidekick, one of my favourite stories by one of my favourite authors. You can find his story here, it's a certified hood classic:
https://www.fights.sexy/competition/
Prologue - An Unlikely FriendshipAmy was competitive.
Everyone said so—her friends, her family, and many of her boyfriends, usually in the process of breaking up with her. She didn’t mind all that much; they were right, after all. She had loved to compete from a young age. At school, she pushed herself to outdo her classmates, both academically and in sports. She entered any competition she could and always fought like hell to win. When she lost, she didn’t get upset; it just motivated her to do better next time. For Amy, the real thrill wasn’t in winning—it was in the competition itself.
Her competitive streak meant that Amy was also highly athletic. Naturally, she loved sports, the competition with both opponents and teammates spurring her on to become stronger, faster, better. She spent hours in the gym, sculpting her body, always pushing herself harder. Every session turned into a one-sided contest with the person next to her to see who could run faster, lift more or squat lower. The other person was oblivious to their competition, but Amy knew—and she
relished it.
She also loved to run. Almost every night after work she would drive down to the park near her office, park up by the tennis courts and do three laps around the lake. It was the only activity where her only rival was herself. No competitors, no external pressure—just the steady rhythm of her breath and the pounding of her feet against the pavement.
That was, until she met Lexi.
It started one evening, halfway through Amy’s first lap. She heard footsteps beside her. A woman had caught up and was now running alongside her. They exchanged a nod and kept going.
Amy hadn’t intended to turn it into a race, but the moment the woman matched her pace, she couldn’t help herself. She pushed harder, testing whether she could leave her behind. But each time she accelerated, the woman did too. In the end, they finished at the exact same time.
Afterwards, they caught their breath, exchanging words for the first time. Her name was Lexi. They chatted briefly, complimenting each other’s stamina before parting ways.
The next night, Amy arrived at the park to find Lexi already there, stretching beneath a tree. Once again, they ran together, step for step, neither gaining an edge. Again, they finished at the same time.
After that, it became a routine. Almost every night, they met by the same tree, exchanged a few words, then set off. Over time, their unofficial rivalry became official. They started at the same spot, ran the same route, and even agreed on a designated finish line—the very tree where they stretched. Still, no matter how hard either of them pushed, the races were too close to call. Their rivalry drove them harder, shaving seconds off their times week after week as they battled to cross the finish first.
Amy couldn’t help but compare herself to Lexi—not just in their races, but in general. They were strikingly similar, making it difficult to pinpoint a clear advantage. Both were strong, with muscular arms, powerful legs, and sculpted abs. Both had impressive backsides, although Amy secretly suspected hers was a little bigger, a testament to her dedication to squats. Amy tried but failed to accurately ascertain her friend’s bust; she guessed a B or a C, similar to her own C cups, but it was impossible to compare when they were usually both wearing sports bras when they met.
Their faces were different yet equally striking. Amy was fair-skinned with blue eyes and straight blonde hair that fell to her upper back. Lexi, in contrast, had a warmer complexion, deep brown eyes, and wavy brunette locks that reached just past her shoulders.
It wasn’t long before their friendly rivalry escaped the confines of the park.
They started to meet up on weekends, competing at
everything. Bowling, minigolf, pool, darts, go-karting, laser tag—if there was a way to turn it into a contest, they did. They poured far too much money into arcade games, battling for high scores, and conquered every escape room in the city, racing to see who could solve the most puzzles. Each week, they found something new to test themselves against each other.
And Lexi, it turned out, was every bit as competitive as Amy.
Most of their matches were
agonisingly close. Amy won at bowling by a single point but lost at minigolf by one stroke. Pool came down to the final ball, which Lexi sank, but Amy edged her out in darts. They tied at go-karting, crossing the finish line almost simultaneously, and matched each other game for game at the arcade. Even their races remained deadlocked, neither able to eke out a victory.
Theirs was a strange friendship. Amy genuinely enjoyed spending time with Lexi, and it seemed mutual. Yet their relationship revolved entirely around competition. They never hung out unless a contest was involved, and their conversations were dominated by talk of their latest bouts. Still, it
worked.
It was refreshing, in a way. Amy often had to dial down her competitive streak around others, but with Lexi, she didn’t have to hold anything back. And Lexi, it seemed, felt the same.
Their friendship was young, but intense. And if their track record was anything to go by, it wasn’t going to fade anytime soon.
Part 1 - CompetitionChapter 1 - Bar FightThere was one incident that stood out in their otherwise strong relationship.
One Saturday night, Amy and Lexi sat in a bar, drinking after a game of pool. Lexi had won and was in the middle of a playful ribbing when something caught Amy’s eye. Across the room, two men sat at a table, elbows planted firmly, hands clasped—arm wrestling.
She watched as they struggled, muscles straining, before one man slammed the other’s arm down onto the table. He immediately looked around, clearly hoping for an audience, and briefly met Amy’s gaze. He winked in a way that he probably thought was enticing. The defeated man slunk off toward the bar, presumably to buy the winner a drink—the price of having lost.
An idea formed in Amy’s mind. She turned to Lexi, who had also been watching.
“Watch this,” she said, standing up.
Lexi raised an eyebrow but followed.
Amy approached the victorious man with a deliberately demure expression. “Um, excuse me?” she asked, softening her voice to sound as feminine as possible.
The man turned, smirking as he gave her an appraising look. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved top—clothes that did little to hide her curves but conveniently concealed her muscular arms and legs. A detail she was counting on.
He clearly liked what he saw. “Yes, sweetheart?” he responded, his tone an attempt at flirtation.
Amy resisted the urge to shudder. “I saw you two arm wrestling and was wondering if I could have a go?” she asked sweetly. “I’ve never arm wrestled before.”
She sat across from him, awaiting his response. He looked slightly surprised but grinned. “Yeah, sure. And if you win, I’ll buy you a drink.”
Amy hesitated. If drinks were all that was at stake, he might let her win, hoping to charm her in the process. She needed to raise the stakes for her plan to work.
“Alright,” she said, flashing him a coy smile. “But if
you win, I’ll give you my number.”
Her gamble worked. He paused, considering, then glanced at Lexi, who had just arrived at the table to watch.
He smirked. “Why don’t you throw in your friend’s number too, and you’ve got a deal?”
Amy almost admired the audacity. Trying to turn the situation into a threesome was bold. She glanced at Lexi.
Lexi grinned, catching on. “Alright,” she said. “But if Amy wins, you have to buy
both of us a drink.”
“Done!” he said confidently, setting his elbow on the table and raising his hand.
Amy mirrored him, taking care not to grip too tightly. By now, a small crowd had gathered, intrigued by the impromptu battle of the sexes.
Lexi pulled up a chair beside them. “Alright,” she said, barely suppressing a smirk at what was about to happen. “On three. One… two… three!”
SLAM.It was over in an instant. The man’s arm hit the table so hard that glasses rattled. His mouth hung open in shock.
Lexi shot up from her chair and whooped. “Hell yeah, Amy! That’s my girl!”
Amy, basking in satisfaction, rolled up her sleeves, revealing her sculpted arms. She grinned at the stunned man. “We’ll take those drinks now.” Then, high on victory, she turned to the onlookers. “Anyone else want a go?”
*
The next hour was a blur of matches.
One by one, bar patrons stepped up, eager to test their strength. Most fell as quickly as the first man. A few put up a decent fight, but none could defeat Amy. Some women stepped forward too—several the dates of men she had already beaten. Amy made sure to make those matches seem more evenly fought; she’d had enough exes tell her they found her strength intimidating, so it felt good to make the men at the bar squirm. She still beat them in the end, though.
Amy and Lexi were soon pretty tipsy. Of the people Amy had beaten, maybe two in three were gracious enough to buy them the promised drinks. The rest—the first man included—slunk off somewhere with their tails between their legs, thoroughly emasculated. It didn’t matter. They had enough free drinks between them to be in a merry mood.
Amy slammed her latest victim’s arm onto the table to another round of cheers. By now, most of the bar was watching. This had become a full-blown spectacle. Drunk on victory and alcohol, she turned to the crowd.
“Anyone else want a shot?” she slurred.
“I’ll have a go,” a familiar voice replied.
Amy turned. Sitting across from her, rolling up her sleeve, was Lexi.
The crowd hushed; by now, everyone in the room knew these two were friends. Her now exposed arm revealed what many had likely suspected—she was just as muscular as Amy. She set her elbow on the table, palm raised.
Amy hesitated, unsure why she suddenly felt nervous. She must have arm-wrestled more than a dozen people tonight. She’d competed against Lexi countless times. So why did this feel different?
Tentatively, she positioned her arm. “You also want my number if you win?” she joked, forcing confidence into her voice.
Lexi pretended to consider. “Nah,” she said, biting her lip. “I’ll take a drink, though.”
Amy glanced at the glasses surrounding them. “Haven’t we had enough?”
Lexi smirked. “Good point.” A pause. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she said, “How about this—if I win, you have to kiss me.”
Amy blinked. Of all the challenges Lexi could have proposed,
that was not what she’d expected. In all their months of friendship, she had never gotten the impression that Lexi was romantically interested in her. Had she misread her all along?
She swallowed. “And if
I win?”
Lexi grinned. “Then
I have to kiss
you.”
“How is that any different?”
“Oh, it is,” Lexi smirked. “Trust me.”
Amy’s heart pounded. But backing down from a challenge? That wasn’t her style; especially not from Lexi.
She grasped her friend’s hand. It was soft, but her grip was strong. They squeezed each other, neither willing to show weakness.
There was no countdown. They just
knew when to begin.
At first, neither hand moved. Their muscles tensed, arms shaking under the strain. To the onlookers, it seemed like a stalemate. Their eyes locked.
Then, to her horror, Amy felt her arm begin to inch downward. Lexi’s eyes gleamed with triumph. Amy had been wrestling all night. Lexi was fresh.
Amy refused to lose. She poured every last drop of energy into pushing back. Slowly, agonisingly, she evened their hands again. Now it was Lexi’s turn to look worried as her hand was pushed downwards.
The crowd was pin-drop silent, enraptured. The only sounds in the room were the quiet grunts of exertion as the two women pushed with all their might.
Lexi’s hand inched closer to the table. Just a little more. One last push—
Then, suddenly, Lexi’s elbow shifted, seemingly slipping in a wet patch on the table. Amy’s leverage vanished. Their arms shot back up to a neutral position.
FUCK, Amy thought. She was drained. All at once, her hand flew backward and slammed into the table.
The onlookers erupted into cheers at the reigning champion’s defeat. Amy and Lexi didn’t move. They sat there, hands still clasped, breathing hard, still locked in an unrelenting stare. In that moment, Amy felt strangely sober, despite all the alcohol.
The noise of the bar faded. The crowd dispersed. Yet they remained, fingers interlocked, eyes burning into each other’s.
Finally, Lexi dropped her gaze. Amy let go, realising only then how tightly they had still been squeezing.
Without a word, she stood up and walked toward the bathroom, heart hammering in her chest.
Chapter 2 - BackseatShortly after their arm-wrestling match, they sat in the back seat of a taxi on their way home, an opaque screen separating them from their driver. Their brief moment of sobriety after the bout had vanished; Lexi had been gloating about her victory ever since they’d climbed into the cab—louder than she would have been if she were sober.
“Fuck, I was really worried towards the end. It really looked like you had me, but BAM—I pushed you back and slammed your arm down. God, it felt fucking good!”
Amy had barely spoken since the match. She sat, feeling tipsy herself, quietly stewing. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. She’d lost to Lexi plenty of times before and endured her gloating, but it had never irked her like this. After all, she did the same whenever she won—which, in fairness, was about as often as Lexi. Was it the alcohol? No, they’d competed drunk before, and she’d never felt this way after a loss. Was it the audience? Probably not, they’d barely paid attention to the people watching.
“Honestly, I don’t know where the strength came from,” Lexi continued. “I thought I was spent! But I guess I still had a little saved up.”
Maybe it was the nature of the competition; they’d never gone head-to-head like that before, strength against strength. Sure, they’d compared their endurance and speed on runs, but they’d never tested themselves so directly—body against body.
“Seriously, Ame, you should’ve seen the look on your face! You thought you had me. To be fair, I thought you had me too. But then, in an instant,
I had
you! You looked so fucking shocked.”
Amy couldn’t take it anymore. “Alright, that’s enough now, Lex. Give it a rest!” she snapped.
Lexi looked taken aback. “Whoa, alright. What’s your problem? I was just having some fun.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not having fun. So just drop it, okay?”
They’d turned to face each other, still sat side by side. Amy could see the confusion and irritation in Lexi’s expression.
“Alright, fine, I’ll drop it,” Lexi said, shrugging. “Not sure why it bothers you so much.”
“It bothers me because it wasn’t a fair fight,” Amy lied. “I’d been arm wrestling all night, then you come in completely fresh and get all full of yourself because you beat a weakened opponent.”
Lexi snorted. “Ame, I watched you arm wrestle those guys—you barely broke a sweat. You were practically as fresh as me! No need to be such a sore loser about it.”
“I am not being a sore loser. I’m just surprised you’d cheat like that.”
They were turned in their seats now, fully facing each other. Lexi’s nostrils flared, furious at the accusation.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.
“You know what I mean. When I nearly had you and your elbow ‘slipped’. I’d have beaten you if you hadn’t done that.”
“That was an accident! I slipped on a wet patch.”
“
Sure you did! Weird that the wet patch was exactly where you happened to put your elbow.”
Lexi huffed. “Do you have a fucking problem with me?” she demanded.
“Yeah, maybe I fucking do!”
They’d leaned in, faces inches apart, tips of their noses a hair’s breadth from touching. Amy could smell the alcohol on Lexi’s breath. She wondered if they’d be having this argument if they were both sober? It was hard to say.
They sat there, nose-to-nose, glaring. It felt like a powder keg. Amy wondered what would have happened if the car went over a bump or if the driver coughed. It felt like all hell could break loose at the drop of a pin.
That didn’t happen. Instead, Lexi exhaled sharply and turned away, staring out of the window into the dark. Amy copied her, feeling a strange combination of relief and disappointment. A part of her had wanted to see what would have happened if the keg had gone off.
For several long minutes, they sat in silence, tension thick as mud.
Then Lexi spoke.
“You still owe me a kiss.”
Amy turned to her. “What?”
“A kiss,” Lexi repeated, looking back at her. “You owe me a kiss. That was the prize for me beating you at arm wrestling.”
Amy stared. “Seriously? You want a kiss?”
“Yes,” she said stubbornly. “We said if I won, you had to give me a kiss. I won, so you have to kiss me.”
Was this bitch fucking serious? Amy couldn’t understand why Lexi would demand a kiss now. Had she been right earlier? Was Lexi interested in her romantically? If so, now was an odd time to push for it, in the midst of an argument. Was this an attempt at reconciliation? That didn’t sit right with the hostility in Lexi’s tone. Maybe it was a power play, a way of rubbing in her victory.
Amy bristled.
Fine. If the bitch wants a kiss, she’ll get a kiss.Amy lunged forward, catching Lexi off guard. She smashed her lips into the other woman’s, shoving her back against the car door. Stunned at first, Lexi quickly recovered, returning the aggressive kiss. Their arms snaked out, wrapping around one another’s backs as if in a hug, hands gripping the backs of necks and heads, further pulling their faces in together.
They sat in the back seat, locked together. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a battle. Their foreheads pressed together, noses crushed against each other painfully, lips mashing together in an unrelenting clash.
Suddenly, Amy felt a strange sensation. Lexi had opened her mouth and was exploring her lips with her tongue.
A challenge.
Amy opened her mouth, letting Lexi in. She felt the other woman’s tongue pressing against hers, trying to force it against the roof of her mouth. Amy fought back, pushing Lexi’s tongue down instead.
They tangled together, tongues snaking around each other’s in their mouths, their faces still flattened together. Amy could taste the alcohol on Lexi’s breath, mingling with the taste of her lipstick. Strangely, she found herself excited by the situation. Not by any passion or sexuality of it, but by the competition. She felt the same rush she did when racing Lexi, when bowling, when arm wrestling. It was invigorating. She needed to win.
Her focus slipped, and suddenly she found herself being pushed back against her car door. No. She shoved back, forcing Lexi towards the middle again.
They went on like that, locked in their silent war, until—
“Hey, this is your stop.”
They tore apart with a wet smacking sound as their lips disconnected. They both fell back against their doors, panting hard.
They stared at each other; Lexi’s lipstick was smudged, her hot pink mixing with Amy’s red.
“Hey, did you hear me? This is your stop.”
Amy’s stomach dropped. The driver. She’d forgotten he was there. Had he heard all that?
“Hi, sorry. Thank you.” she called back, flustered.
Lexi lifted a hand to her lips, brushing her fingertips over the smear of Amy’s lipstick.
Amy swallowed hard, then scrambled for the door, pushing it open and stepping out. She shut it behind her and turned just in time to see the cab speed off, Lexi watching her through the window.
Chapter 3 - RaceAmy had awoken the following afternoon with a hangover and a set of raging, conflicting emotions. At first, she wondered if the strange encounter in the backseat had been a dream. One look in the mirror disabused her of this notion; the two-toned smear of lipstick on her cheeks where Lexi’s lips had made contact with her own, proved the battle was real.
The following Monday, Amy returned to her favourite park for a run. She’d worried all weekend that her friend might not be there, that she wouldn’t want to see her ever again after their fight. Fortunately, she spied Lexi stretching against a familiar tree and headed over to join her. They chatted amicably and completed their race as usual, acting like the events of the previous weekend hadn’t happened.
Things continued as normal for a couple of weeks. Still, Amy felt conflicted. She felt like she’d had a taste of something when they’d fought in the back of that taxi, and she wanted more. It wasn’t that she longed for Lexi, exactly. As with the rest of their relationship, it was the competition that she craved more than the person. It was a strange way to think about her friend, but Amy couldn’t help it.
All of this was playing on her mind when she met Lexi at their familiar spot by the tree on the lake. Lexi was wearing her usual black sports bra and matching shorts, along with white running shoes. Amy wore a grey sports bra and running tights, her own white shoes matching Lexi’s. Both women had tied their hair back in ponytails.
Amy greeted her friend, who grunted in response. As the two moved through their usual stretching routine, Amy noticed something off about Lexi. She was quiet—more sullen than usual—responding to Amy’s pre-run chatter with grunts and one-word answers. A flicker of worry settled in Amy’s chest. Was Lexi upset with her? Was this about their fight in the back of the taxi? Surely not—it had been almost two weeks ago now. Why would it suddenly become a problem tonight?
“Lexi?” Amy ventured, no longer able to bear the awkward silence.
“Yes?” Lexi responded tersely.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem quiet.”
“I’m fine,” Lexi spat.
She paused for a moment before sighing. “No, I’m sorry, Amy. My boyfriend’s being a dick again, and I’m not in a good mood. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
Amy released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Relief washed over her—it wasn’t about her. She tried to disguise the feeling with an expression of sympathy.
“No, no, it’s all right,” she said. “I’m sorry he’s being a jerk again. Is it the same thing as usual?”
“Yeah, he keeps ogling other women right in front of me,” Lexi replied. “The other day, we were at a diner, and he just kept staring at the waitresses’ asses. He
knows I hate when he does that. We got into a big argument about it last night after our run, and I’m still pretty pissed off.”
“Yeah, that’s shit,” Amy agreed.
“Honestly, it made me so mad! One of the waitresses smiled at him, and I felt like getting up and punching her right in the face! It doesn’t make sense, obviously—she was just being polite—but I was so angry. You know what I mean? Amy?”
Amy had stopped listening. The mental image of her friend brawling with a random waitress sent a strange thrill through her. She still felt a righteous anger at Lexi’s boyfriend for being a dick, but mixed with that were more confusing emotions—excitement at the thought of Lexi going toe-to-toe with another woman, envy that her boyfriend would be the one to witness the hypothetical battle instead of her—and jealousy towards the waitress for getting the chance to fight Lexi.
Amy
wanted to fight her friend.
Why?
Their battle in the backseat of the taxi kept coming back to her—how good it had felt. Why was she feeling this way?
“Amy?” Lexi prompted again, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Oh, yeah,” Amy replied hurriedly. “Totally get what you mean. It’s normal to be angry at the other woman, even if it’s not really their fault.”
Lexi frowned, put off by Amy’s momentary lapse in concentration. She blew air through her nose and turned towards the lake.
“Whatever. Let’s just get on with our run.”
Amy worried she’d upset her friend. “Yeah,” she replied. Hoping to break the tension, she added, “Maybe I should give you a head start to cheer you up a bit.”
“Hah,” Lexi laughed mirthlessly. “Maybe you should.”
They lined up at their makeshift starting line on the trail adjacent to the tree where they stretched. They crouched, ready to run.
“All right, you ready?” Amy asked. Lexi simply nodded in response.
“All right. Three… two—”
Before she could finish her count, Lexi shot off like a rocket.
Startled, it took Amy a second to react before she, too, took off running. By the time they had both reached full speed, Amy was a few paces behind her friend.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. They always counted down from three at the start of their races, and they had always respected the countdown. Had Lexi taken her seriously when she’d suggested a head start? She’d only been joking. She hadn’t expected Lexi to actually
take one, given her competitive nature.
Regardless of her friend’s reasoning, the setback only made Amy more determined not to lose. She pushed herself hard, and by the end of their first lap, the gap between them had narrowed significantly. As the second lap progressed, Amy found herself close enough to Lexi to attempt an overtake. She moved slightly to the left, hoping to pass on the inside, nearest the lake.
To her surprise, Lexi swerved left as well, blocking her path.
Amy furrowed her brow in annoyance and tried moving right, only for Lexi to swerve back in that direction to meet her.
What the hell?In all their weeks of racing, they had never played like this. Their competition had always been a test of speed and endurance—not their ability to get in each other’s way.
Not for the first time tonight, Amy found herself wondering what was going on in Lexi’s head.
For the remainder of the second lap, Amy tried again and again to pass, but each time, Lexi cut her off. Amy’s frustration mounted. As they neared the end of lap two, she formed a plan.
She stayed directly behind Lexi for a minute or two, making no attempt to overtake. Then, suddenly, she feinted right. Lexi reacted instantly, moving to block her—only for Amy to swerve left at the last moment.
She was level with her friend in an instant, grinning in triumph.
Yes!SLAM.Lexi had retaliated with a swerve of her own. Unable to stop her from pulling alongside, she had instead slammed into her. Both women stumbled from the impact but managed to keep running.
Barely thinking, Amy barged into Lexi in return.
Their eyes locked—Lexi’s full of pure, unfiltered rage.
Amy returned the look gladly. It was on.
From that point on, the race took on a new dimension. The competitors traded shoulder barges as they ran. With each bump, the shoves became harder and their race became dirtier. They weren’t just running anymore.
They were fighting.
This dirty race continued through the final lap, the two women alternating charges into one another. With all the jostling, Amy knew this would be their slowest run for a long time. She didn’t care; as long as she didn’t lose, personal bests meant nothing. From the way Lexi was behaving, she seemed to feel the same way.
As they reached the final stretch, the tree that served as their meeting place, starting line, and finish line came into view—only a few hundred yards remained. By now, their repeated collisions had slowed to a standstill. Instead, they ran side by side, as they usually did, though much closer than usual. Occasionally, their elbows and hands collided as they pumped their arms. Soon, elbows were deliberately thrown at arms, sides, and even faces as they fought to gain the upper hand. As the yards remaining dwindled closer to single digits, they closed the gap between them, their arms nearly intertwining.
Suddenly, Amy felt her foot collide with the back of Lexi’s shin. She stumbled, struggling to keep her balance, and began to fall. Panicking, she reached out instinctively to grab something to stop herself. Without meaning to, she latched onto the only thing within arm’s reach—Lexi’s ponytail. Lexi shrieked as her head was yanked back by the hair, and she too stumbled. The two women toppled to the ground.
They landed in a heap of limbs, their momentum causing them to slide across the rough terrain. Amy felt pain shoot through her exposed arms and left leg as they scraped against the gravel. They both slid and rolled for a few yards before coming to a rest. For a moment, they lay there, their legs still tangled slightly, groaning in pain. As Amy’s head cleared, she glanced towards their familiar tree—it was still a good ten yards ahead. The race wasn’t over yet; she could still win.
Adrenaline dulling her injuries, Amy scrambled to her feet, disentangling herself from Lexi and starting to run again on shaky legs. She heard Lexi cursing and scrambling to her feet behind her, but it was too late. Amy crossed the starting point several seconds before Lexi, winning the race.
Her momentum and the adrenaline carried her well beyond the finish line. She threw her hands in the air and whooped, elated with her victory—she’d finally won the one thing neither woman had been able to beat the other at. As she slowed to a stop, she turned around, eager to gloat to Lexi.
She saw the other woman charging towards her, fire in her eyes. When she got within arm’s reach of Amy, she struck out, slamming her palms into Amy’s chest with force, shoving her backwards. Surprised, Amy stumbled backwards before hitting the grassy kerb at the edge of the track, falling backwards onto her butt. She sat in the grass, head tilted back to look up at the furious Lexi. Her eyes were full of fire, her clothes filthy from rolling across the gravel. A cut on her forehead was bleeding, adding to her feral look.
“WHAT. THE FUCK. WAS THAT!” Lexi yelled, glaring at the prone woman. “You pulled my fucking ponytail, ASSHOLE!”
Amy’s anger flared, her moment of triumph suddenly stolen. She jumped to her feet, striding toward Lexi. Without hesitation, she thrust out her own palms, shoving Lexi hard in the chest. Lexi staggered back a few feet but didn’t fall.
“BITCH!” Amy shouted. “I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t TRIPPED me!”
“I didn’t do that on purpose, dick!” Lexi roared back “It only happened because you wouldn’t stop elbowing me while we were running!”
“YOU started that when you wouldn’t stop barging into me!”
“No, YOU were the one who started the barging. Just because I was ahead, you had to fight fucking dirty to keep up!”
“Oh, I’m the one fighting dirty? You’re the one who kept blocking me whenever I was about to pass you.”
“So fucking what? Blocking’s fair game. If you didn’t want me to block you, you shouldn’t have fallen behind.”
“I didn’t ‘fall behind’, YOU ran off before I’d finished counting down! You cheated!”
“I thought you were giving me a head start?”
“Yeah, I was joking! Guess you really needed it though, even with a head start you couldn’t beat me!”
As their argument intensified, the two women had stepped closer and closer together, until they were inches apart. With that last jab, Lexi’s nostrils flared and she closed the remaining distance between them. They came together, almost stepping on one another’s feet. Amy could feel the warm, wet blood from Lexi’s wound trickling onto her own face as their foreheads touched.
“Fuck you, you didn’t beat me!” Lexi shouted. “You dragged me to the ground just before the finish line! This doesn’t count!”
“Fuck you, of course it counts!” Amy retorted. “You can’t just decide it doesn’t count because you lost!”
“It does
not count! You cheated!”
“Well you cheated first! It counts!”
“It doesn’t!”
“Does!”
“DOESN’T!”
“DOES!”
They fell silent, their war of words reaching a natural conclusion. There they remained, foreheads touching, eyes locked on to one another’s, lips curled into a snarl. Amy could feel the fabric of Lexi’s top brush against hers. They were intimately close, close enough that Amy could feel the other woman’s breath on her face. With their lips this close together, Amy couldn’t help but think of their battle from the back of the taxi.
Amy’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Was this about to come to blows? It seemed inevitable. Their argument had run its course and neither woman was the type to back down. Either they’d stand here nose-to-nose until one of them collapsed from exhaustion, or punches would be thrown. Amy felt a strange thrill at the thought.
Just as Amy was considering throwing the first punch, the sound of footsteps nearby broke their trance. They whirled around, looking towards the source of the interruption; a woman, walking across the grass towards them.
“Hi!” the stranger greeted politely when she noticed them. The two women mumbled a response, Amy wishing that the woman would leave their to their private showdown. No such luck.
The woman glanced over at them, smiling, before stopping in her tracks. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “Are you two okay?”
“We fell,” Amy said, struggling to keep her annoyance out of her voice. “We’re good, thank you for asking.”
The good Samaritan wasn’t so easily dissuaded. She approached, getting a closer look at them both. Amy hadn’t had the chance to assess her own injuries, distracted by the thrill of victory, then the adrenaline of the argument with Lexi. She was covered in dirt and grazes. She was bleeding from a cut on her left knee where her leggings had torn open.
“You should disinfect those cuts,” the woman said. “I have a first aid kit in my car.”
Amy glanced at Lexi, trying to think of an excuse to avoid going with this woman. She failed.
“Sure,” she said, her voice laced with annoyance. “That’d be great!”
Chapter 4 - First TasteFor the second time in as many weeks, Amy awoke feeling like shit.
Her entire body ached: the muscles in her legs throbbed from pushing herself to run too hard; her arms and torso burned from a hundred scrapes, grazes and bruises where she’d slid across the gravel; her left knee pulsed painfully where it had collided with the ground, splitting open.
After patching them up the previous night, the helpful woman had suggested they both head straight home. Unable to come up with a convincing argument against it, they’d reluctantly clambered into their cars and left the car park. Amy had watched Lexi’s car disappear in the rear view mirror. By the time she arrived home, the pain and her confusing emotions had caught up with her. Barely acknowledging her housemates when they greeted her, she’d headed straight to bed, not bothering to clean up or even undress.
After lying there for far too long, she finally forced herself up and made her way to the bathroom. The face staring back at her in the mirror was bruised and dirty. At first, she assumed the smear of blood on her forehead was her own, but she soon realised it was Lexi’s—left over from where their foreheads had clashed. Groaning, she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the evidence of the previous night.
For the rest of the day, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lexi and their increasingly strained relationship. This was the third strange incident in the past couple of weeks: first, their oddly tense arm-wrestling match; then, their ‘kiss’ in the back of the taxi; and now, their argument and almost-fight at the lake. They’d spent the last two weeks pretending the first two incidents hadn’t happened. They’d been drunk, after all—maybe the alcohol was to blame. But last night’s fight was harder to ignore.
By the time evening came, Amy had come to a decision. As she always did on a weekday, she drove down to the lake wearing the same running gear as the night before, complete with ripped leggings. She got out of her car and sauntered past the tennis courts and towards the lake. As she approached their usual meeting spot, she spied Lexi stretching against their tree. She, too, was wearing the same clothes from the previous night. Both women had tied their hair back in ponytails.
"Hey!" Lexi greeted her without looking up from her stretches.
Amy hesitated, caught off guard by the pleasantness of her tone. "Hey," she replied.
“You had a good day?” Lexi asked.
“Uh, yeah. You?” Amy lied.
“Yeah, not bad thanks!” Lexi replied, jovially.
Amy frowned, conflicted. It seemed like Lexi intended to ignore what had happened last night, much as they had with the taxi incident. For a moment, she considered going along with the pretence. If they ignored their conflict, they could simply go back to how things had always been—nothing would have to change. Part of her wanted that. The other, more insistent part of her found the idea unbearable.
Amy shifted her weight, nervous about what she intended to say. "Hey, Lex?" she ventured.
Lexi looked up. “What’s up Ame?”
“I don’t think we should run today,” Amy blurted. “I think we should do… something else.”
Lexi raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Amy hesitated, still unsure how to put it into words. But there was no backing out now.
“You ever wrestled before?” she asked, blushing the moment the words left her mouth.
Lexi’s eyes widened “Wrestled? No, I’ve never wrestled before.”
“Me neither. I think we should give it a try.”
Lexi tilted her head, clearly intrigued. "Wrestling? Yeah, that could be fun… but why?"
Amy took a deep breath. "I feel like we have… something pent up inside us. I don’t know if it’s aggression or what, but after last night, I don’t think it’s something we can just ignore. If that woman hadn’t interrupted, I think we would have had a fight. And I don’t think that’s the kind of thing we can pretend didn’t happen."
She paused to catch her breath. Lexi opened her mouth to speak, but Amy barrelled on, desperate to say her piece before she lost her nerve.
"I just feel weird. I like competing with you, but ever since what happened in the taxi, it hasn’t felt the same. It’s like we stepped our contests up a level, and now that we’ve done that, going back to normal just isn’t enough. I want to do more than just racing and playing pool. I thought maybe… combat sports might scratch that itch."
Amy stopped, face burning. Lexi had gone bright red at the mention of the taxi ride. Neither of them had acknowledged it since it had happened. Amy’s heart was pounding. She felt like she’d just asked someone out for the first time. She was worried about how Lexi would respond. Would she laugh? Would she think Amy was weird and leave? She couldn’t blame her if she did—Amy already thought she was weird.
Lexi mulled it over. After a few seconds, she spoke. "Yeah… I think I feel the same way. It’s weird, but I kind of enjoyed what we did in the taxi. Not necessarily kissing you, but… fighting against you. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, it does!" Amy said excitedly. Relief flooded through her. "I’m glad I’m not the only one. It’s weird, but I feel like I really need to fight you again, in some way. I think that’s what last night was about."
Lexi smiled. “Alright then. Let’s fight. Meet you behind the tennis courts?”
Amy blinked. “What do you mean tennis courts? Aren’t we going to head to the gym or something?”
"We could, but why bother when we’ve already come all this way? Nobody should be able to see us back there."
Amy thought about it. The logic made sense. The grass here was as soft as any gym mat, and they
were already here. Yet something about Lexi’s last statement—
nobody should be able to see us—made the whole thing feel strangely illicit. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, though she wasn’t sure why.
She smiled nervously. “Tennis courts it is then.”
*
Five minutes later, they stood behind the tennis courts, ten feet apart. Both had removed their shoes and left them to the side. Lexi wore a pair of knee-length black running socks, while Amy had on white ankle socks.
They faced each other in silence, neither sure how to begin.
"Uh… ding ding?" Amy said tentatively.
Apparently, that was good enough as a starting bell. Lexi immediately crouched, adopting a fighting stance with her hands raised, and stepped towards her. Amy mirrored her movements. They circled each other warily, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
Lexi lifted her hands, palms out, fingers spread. Amy accepted the silent challenge, locking fingers with her. They pushed against each other, muscles straining, grunting softly with exertion as they tested their strength. Their feet dug into the soft grass, trying to gain traction as they fought to force the other woman back.
Strangely, all the inhibitions Amy had felt about fighting her friend had vanished—this felt right. She pressed her forehead against Lexi’s, and Lexi reciprocated, their breath mingling as they pushed harder. It reminded Amy of the night in the taxi. For a fleeting moment, she considered kissing Lexi again, but dismissed the thought.
A sudden shift in balance. Lexi had snaked her foot around the back of Amy’s leg. She hooked their knees together and pulled hard. Caught off guard, Amy’s legs buckled, and she crashed onto her back with a grunt. Before she could react, Lexi was on her, straddling her chest, pinning her wrists to the grass. She kicked her legs frantically but failed to dislodge the woman.
“Give up?” Lexi asked, smug.
Amy smirked. "Not a chance."
She bent her legs at the waist, curling them upwards, and managed to hook her thighs around Lexi’s neck. Lexi’s face turned from smug to shocked as Amber tugged hard with her legs, sending her tumbling to the ground. In the same motion, Amy twisted and scrambled on top of her, shifting to sit on Lexi’s chest, facing her legs. She planted her feet on Lexi’s shoulders, pinning her down, and grabbed hold of her shins to keep her from attempting the same manoeuvre.
"Do
you give up?" she taunted, confident Lexi had no escape.
A sharp pain shot through her scalp. Amy gasped—Lexi had grabbed her ponytail and was yanking it, hard. Before she could react, Lexi gave another vicious tug to the side, toppling her off balance. Lexi was able to twist free, releasing her grip on Amy’s hair. Both women scrambled to their feet, breathing heavily, eyes locked in a mixture of challenge and exhilaration.
“That’s not allowed in wrestling!” Amy snapped.
Lexi shot her a sly grin. "I never said we were wrestling. I said we should fight behind the tennis courts, and you agreed. We never said hair-pulling wasn’t allowed."
Amy huffed. "I
said we should try wrestling."
"Shame that’s not what you agreed to in the end," Lexi teased. "Should’ve been more specific."
Amy narrowed her eyes.
Fine. If the bitch wants hair-pulling, she’ll get hair-pulling.They lunged at each other simultaneously, colliding with force, arms wrapping around each other’s backs. Immediately, they both grabbed for the other’s ponytail, fingers tangling in hair as they yanked viciously. Their legs tangled as they stumbled across the grass, each trying to trip the other.
Their bodies pressed together as they fought for control. Then, suddenly, they tripped, falling in a heap to the ground. They rolled apart, quickly scrambling to their knees, breathing hard, staring each other down.
Amy struck first. She swung her hand in a wide arc, landing a hard slap across Lexi’s cheek. The sound cracked through the air. She wasn’t sure why she’d done it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Lexi’s head snapped to the side, but when she turned back, fire burned in her eyes. Amy expected her to protest, maybe call her out for playing dirty—instead, Lexi lifted her own hand and returned the slap just as fiercely.
Amy's cheek stung. She inhaled sharply, staring at Lexi, who stared right back. And in that moment, an unspoken agreement passed between them.
No more rules.
They launched at each other, still kneeling, arms wrapping tight around one another’s backs. One hand gripped hair, yanking with all their strength, while the other threw wild punches at exposed flesh. Their fists struck ribs, backs, shoulders—anywhere they could reach. Their heads were forced back from the mutual hair-pull, but their eyes remained locked, seething, breathless.
Their tugging of one another’s hair grew more and more violent as they yanked each other from side to side, muttering curses. Amy’s scalp burned from Lexi’s grip, but she barely noticed. Eventually, they toppled, falling to the ground once more. Immediately, they started rolling through the grass, hands still buried in each other’s hair, legs entwining, their bodies pressing together as they fought for the upper hand.
Amy felt amazing. This was what she’d needed. This was what she’d wanted all along. Competing with Lexi had always been exhilarating, but this—this was different. This was pure, primal. This was right. Her doubts from the past few weeks felt silly now; this was what she wanted to do. She felt like she could have done this forever.
Their rolling slowed, but their grip on each other never loosened. Their faces pressed together, noses brushing, eyes blazing with challenge.
Then, suddenly—
Hands wrapped around Amy’s waist, yanking her up. She gasped as strong arms pulled her back.
"For fuck’s sake, let her go!" a man’s voice barked in her ear.
At the same time, Lexi was wrenched upright, a second man restraining her. Amy’s grip on Lexi’s ponytail remained locked, as did Lexi’s hold on hers. They refused to release each other. The man holding Amy had to forcibly pry her fingers away, one by one, while the other did the same to Lexi.
Even as the men pulled them apart, Amy and Lexi kicked and swung their arms, still desperate to keep fighting.
“For god’s sake, you’re adults,” Amy’s captor scolded. “Stop acting like schoolgirls.”
Slowly, reality crept back in. Their breathing steadied, their arms stopped flailing, and—reluctantly—they stilled. The two men, both in tennis gear, hesitated before finally releasing them.
Amy briefly considered lunging at Lexi again, but the presence of their would-be referees kept her in check.
The men launched into a lecture, but Amy wasn’t listening. Her focus remained locked on Lexi. Lexi’s gaze burned with the same intensity, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her hair wild and tangled from their fight.
They were a mess. Lexi had lost one of her socks somewhere during the scuffle. Amy’s ripped leggings were now torn even further, exposing the scrape on her knee. Their ponytails had come undone, leaving their hair loose, dishevelled. Red handprints stained their cheeks from the slap exchange. Dirt covered their bodies and clothes from rolling in the grass.
They looked like they’d been through hell.
Amy was desperate to do it again.
The tennis players, still watching them warily, insisted on walking them to their cars, as if expecting them to start brawling the second they turned their backs. They weren’t wrong—but it was still infuriating.
Under the men’s watchful eyes, Amy and Lexi climbed into their respective cars.
As Amy pulled out of the car park, her frustration at being interrupted was quickly overtaken by something else.
Excitement.
It didn’t matter that their fight had been cut short.
Because now, she was certain.
This wouldn’t be the last time they fought.
Not by a long shot.
