The Boxer and I

Seven

    "There is something I want to tell you though," I manage to murmur as I rub at my sore swollen eyes.

    I sense him leaning a little forward in his seat, anticipating what I'm going to say. He waits for my to continue, securing his gaze on me.

    "I...I want to apologise for what happened," I avert my eyes to look at the mug of tea within the clasp of both my palms in my lap. "When I left, I should've...I should've told you, or spoken to you about it."

    I peak at him to see what his expression is like and to my dismay it's rather blank, it was straight, I couldn't really tell what he was feeling or thinking.

    "It wasn't that I didn't want to tell you or anything like that, but...I guess I was scared," I take a deep breath, but that never is a good idea when you've just had a crying fit. It ended being one of those sighs that stutter because of how much you've been crying.

    You sound like baby that hasn't been given their sweets.

    "Scared about what?" He leans forward a bit more, now he seems desperate to find the answers.

    Should I tell him?

    No bitch no. Not the right time damn listen to me, cries my brain.

    Why was I truly scared? I guess because at the time I thought it was my fault, I went to that party that night in another attempt to drown my problems in alcohol and music, I was wearing that skimpy little dress and I was the one flirting with...Jason. Ugh I hate his name.

    I thought it was my fault, it's almost laughable now thinking about it because no matter how drunk I was, no matter what clothes I was wearing, no matter whether I was flirting back, what happened should've never happened. So the logical thing to me back then in the midst of all my crazy emotions was to keep my mouth shut, not tell a soul of what happened and run away. I knew if I opened up to Jake, he'd go straight to Jason and beat him up. He also would've convinced me to stay.

    The image of Jason Bold when he walked onto the boxing ring at the fight a few weeks ago flashes in my mind, making me quiver. I really wish Jake beat the crap out of him then - I guess I'll have to wait for the postponed fight date.

    "Nothing-" I start to say but I'm interrupted the loud doorbell.

    I'm not just interrupted, I physically jump out of my seat and hover on the edge of the sofa. Some tea splashes out of the cup and lands on my shirt.    

    "Do you want to have a louder doorbell?" I place the mug on the table before using a clean tissue to dab at my shirt.

    He chuckles as he watches me, but his mind seems to be distracted by the door. "Let me check who it is, I'll get you another shirt." He replies as he makes his way to the door.

    I don't know why but my heart beat seems to pick up a little pace as he says that. Remembering back to two years when Jake and I were close, I used to wear his clothes all the time, especially the thick warm hoodies in winter. It wasn't so much about the clothing itself, it was having a part of him with me.

    And God the smell of his clothes was amazing.

    "Flo," He calls distracting me from my thoughts, his tone a little stern. "It's Becca."

    Part 2

    My neck cracks because of the speed at which I turn my head to face him and the door, however I try not to wince from the agitating pain. "Don't open it." The words escape my tongue before I'm able to stop them.