Page 75 of The Clinch
“When it is loud, it is quiet.” Matthias takes another gummy bear from the bag Sal shoved at him, chews once, and looks at Leo as if the answer is obvious. “Pressure is only noise when you have no pattern.”
Leo’s eyes lift approvingly. “Exactly.”
Adam points at him, changing the topic. “Fireworks on the beach tonight. You two in?”
I shrug, careless. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Adam pops another Sour Patch into his mouth and looks between Leo and Matthias. “Whole league feels weird this summer. Everybody’s pretending nothing’s happening and checking their phones every ten minutes.”
Leo glances over. “About what?”
“Ownership chatter,” Adam says. “Defenders side, mostly. Rumor only, according to Jess. Still enough to make people twitchy.”
Matthias’s expression doesn’t change. “New men always move pieces.”
Adam points at him. “See? That’s exactly the kind of sentence that makes me think you know things.”
“I know patterns,” Matthias says.
“We hit the gym tomorrow at seven,” Adam says, turning to leave. “Don’t be late, boxer boy.”
“I’m never late.” Leo smirks, saluting them.
Matthias waves at me, polite as ever, and follows Adam and the girls down the boardwalk.
We are left at the counter with cold beers sweating, candy between us, and the air between our bodies charged.
Leo picks up one beer, still unopened.
I take the other and press it lightly to his chest, right over his heartbeat. He looks at me like I’ve just made things harder for both of us.
“Beer after,” I say, low. “Walk me back first.”
He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t ask the question I can’t answer.
Then, without warning, I step in and slide my arm around his waist. My palm finds the strip of skin above his shorts.
I feel him stop breathing and look up at him, gauging the damage. He turns his head. One eyebrow lifts. A question in his eyes that he refuses to ask out loud.
I hold his gaze over the top of my sunglasses.
I don’t explain.
I don’t apologize.
I just keep touching him.
There are no cameras here. No one watching who matters. I’m doing this because I want to.
For half a second, he gives too much away. Then it’s gone.
Which makes me want to press closer just to see if he can hold it.
He takes my hand again, and we head for the stairs, holding the beers.
It’s just a walk. Ten minutes. Nothing.
His thumb moves over my knuckles, like he’s already decided something I haven’t said yes to yet.
