Page 74 of The Clinch
The girls rush in, giggling, trying to arrange themselves around us. One of them whisper-shouts, “He’s so hot.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Low enough that no one else hears it. Loud enough that Leo does.
His head turns slightly, heat flashing in his eyes like I just touched a wire. Then he shifts. Half a step. His body between me and the crowd. His palm finds my waist.
That touch should make me panic. Instead, it steadies me. He leans in close, mouth brushing the edge of my hair.
“Smile,” he murmurs, for me alone. “Hot boy will behave.”
Recklessly, I test him. “What if he doesn’t?”
I feel his smile at my temple. “Then you tell him to stop.” His mouth brushes my hair. “If you want.”
The phone flashes. Once. Twice.
The girls squeal and scatter. I step back, reclaiming my space.
A familiar voice cuts through the music, snapping the moment in half.
“There he is,” Adam Novak announces, loud and pleased.
He comes down the boardwalk with Matthias Lindberg beside him—blond, broad-shouldered, contained. Two girls in cover-ups trail behind them, both smiling.
Adam takes in the candy, the beers, our joined hands. His eyebrows jump.
“Lionheart eats candy? Nobody will believe me.”
“Don’t judge,” Leo says lightly. “It’s a childhood favorite.”
Matthias reaches for the bag and reads the label like it’s a warning sign. “Sour Patch?”
Before anyone can stop him, he pops one in his mouth.
Chews once.
Freezes.
“Nope,” he says flatly, and spits it into a napkin. “This is not candy. This is a prank.”
Leo coughs a laugh. “Welcome to America.”
Adam loses it. Sal shakes his head, amused, then slaps a bag of Haribos on the counter. “Here. Imported. These might be more to your taste.”
Matthias nods at Sal and pops a gummy bear into his mouth. “Nowthisis candy.”
Adam turns back to Leo, curiosity replacing menace. “Okay. Real question. What’s it actually like in there? In the ring?”
“It’s hot,” Leo says, after considering it for a moment. “Smaller than you think. The ropes are right there. The lightsare too bright. You can taste the canvas and the sweat. And the noise stacks up—crowd and corner and your own breathing—until there’s no room for anything else.”
Adam’s face shifts. “And you just… go.”
“You lock in. It’s the only place I’ve ever been where the world stops asking for pieces of you. There’s just the man in front of you and the next half second.”
Matthias’s gaze flicks to Leo’s shoulders, to his stance. “Footwork is everything.”
“Same as skating,” Leo says.
Adam exhales. “The narrowing. The quiet.”
