Ben is pacing in my changing room when I enter. He straightens up once he notices me. There is that awkwardness that’s never there between us. I take one more step inside and almost run out when he stalks towards me.
He is furious. I’m not sure why. We won. It doesn’t feel like a victory but that money is ours.
Stopping a few feet from me, he thunders, “Why didn’t you block that punch?”
I wince at the harshness of his voice. This boy sounds and looks like Ben but he doesn’t act like my Ben. We have come so far and fallen apart. Maybe I can try to salvage our relationship. We will be okay.
“I... I’m sorry.”
His cheek is red from the contact with our opponent’s fist. Accepted, I was in the better position to stop the punch but I was distracted by our proximity. It was different from the stage play with our mediaeval outfits separating us. It has been so long since we stood so close to each other and it distracted me.
“Sorry won’t fix my face,” he murmurs.