Page 123 of The Fake Divination Offense
Another wave of anxiety fizzles in my gut, but Bel clutches hard to my hand.
“Together,” he whispers. “You and I will have a blast regardless of who’s in there.”
The one therapy appointment I had these past few weeks because of intense rawball season scheduling, my doctor said Bel sounds like he’s doing me a lot of good, even though I’d braced myself to be reprimanded. I explained all the obsession and protectivenessand worry, but how I’m aware of it, and that, at least, seems to be the key—to not let those things control me.
But obsession, protectiveness, worry—turns out, that’s what love is.
Seb and Thio. Marlow, Darian. Phei, in a rock formation in the corner. Aaron and the rest of the defensive tanks. Many people from the offensive line, too. Some of the friends Bel’s been making on the cheerleading team. Riprak’s even here, and another of the coaches, and—is thatRoesia? Everyone’s mingling, some getting drinks from the bar, a few already nibbling on plates of appetizers at the high-top tables.
Holy shit.
Bel and I hang our coats on a rack by the door, and I step past it, mouth agape. Bel’s tucked under my arm, and I can see his excited smile out of the corner of my eye; but I can’t stop scanning the room.
Seb is the first to race over and throw his arms around us. Thio’s at the bar, his eyes on Seb as he presumably waits for drinks, and he grins when Seb shouts, “Fuck the Chimeras!”
His call gets everyone’s attention and a chorus goes up. “Fuck the Chimeras!”
A grin cramps my face. “Hell yeah,” I say and hug Seb to me.
He pulls back. “Brilliant idea with this party—I needed to get out. Work’s been brutal.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Pretty good turnout, huh?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat when it comes out squeaky. “Yeah, awesome turnout.”
“Fuck the Chimeras!” Aaron comes over, claps my shoulder, and thrusts a chunk of rock—limestone, maybe?—at me. There’s a bow on it. “And happy Urzoth’s birthday.”
Seb’s brows shoot up over his glasses.
Bel’s eyes narrow in confusion.
I take the rock.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of holiday this was?” Aaron says to ourodd looks. He scratches the side of his neck. “But I figured a gift’s always a safe bet. And limestone, cuz, like, he’s a god made of rock, yeah? That’s why Phei’s gone stone.” He thrusts his thumb at Phei’s pile in the corner.
They—wow. They did this for me?
I didn’t say this was a party for the Urzoth holiday, because it isn’t, but damn. This is thoughtful.
Bel takes the rock from me. “This is so sweet,” he coos and nudges me, and it breaks me out of my shock.
I sniff. “I—yeah. This is—it’s great. Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
A whole helluva lot, actually; Urzoth ties or not.
Seb holds his hand out to Aaron. “Sebastian Walsh. I don’t think we’ve met; did I see you at the party Orok threw here this past summer?”
The weight in his question catches me, and I bulge my eyes at him. Seb ignores me.
“Aaron Harsaf,” he says, shaking Seb’s hand. “And I probably wasn’t there. The team loves this place, but my schedule never seems to line up.”
“It was the first Thursday in August,” says Bel, his focus on making the ribbon lay flat against the rock, like he’s saying something totally innocent. But there’s weight in his tone, too, and my eyes fly from him to Seb, who inches closer to Bel like the two of them are suddenly partners in crime.
“Guys,” I try, “it’s not—”
Seb gives me a silencing look.
“Ah.” Aaron snaps his finger in connection. “That’s right—I don’t usually go out on Thursday nights.” His eyes widen and he looks at the floor in a sudden wave of dismay. “That makes me sound really boring, huh?”
“Kind of,” Seb mutters, and Bel covers for him with a nose-scrunching giggle.
