I took the first point by waiting.
Miles feinted, expecting me to rush. I didn't. When he committed, I made a short counter and reached his sleeve.
"Touch," the referee called.
He nodded once. I reset.
The next few exchanges were close. We knew each other too well to make careless moves, and I knew exactly how to make him hesitate. I didn't use it. I fought the match that was in front of me, not the one he'd imagined.
At three points each, the referee called a halt.
A competitor from another club had slipped near the edge of the strip. The staff were helping her up. I saw the red smear on the floor where her knee had scraped against the mat.
My stomach tightened.
Miles looked toward me.
"I'm fine," I said.
"I know."
The match resumed. I took the next point. Miles answered with a
