Page 66 of Shift Change

“I totally get it.”

His voice was soft, and when he touched my hand, another shiver rocked me. He threaded our fingers together, making my heart take off for the races. We were in public, technically. I thought about pulling away, but when I looked around, no one else was nearby.

“Why do you do it, then?” he asked. “Why do you play Holky if you don’t feel like it?”

“Same reason you play Mad Dog, I guess.” My voice was sharper than I’d meant it to be. I knew the answer to his question, although I’d never admitted it to anyone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve never really said it out loud, but I play Holky to cover up all the feelings I have inside. As you know, rough things have happened in my life, and Holky helps me not dwell on them.”

Chuck squeezed my hand, and we walked on. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “The ocean is different down here. Up north, it has an earthier smell, and the salt burns your nose.”

“Especially when it’s cold,” I said. “Here, I can still smell the salt, but that’s about it. Like it’s?—”

“Lost its richness. Still the ocean, but version B.”

“B for blah?” I asked.

“B for boring. Miami’s nice, but I’m starting to wonder how much of it’s an illusion.”

“Yeah. You can have fun here but it’s kind of?—”

“Mindless?”

“Exactly.”

We went quiet again, and I thought about how nice it was to have someone to talk to about more than playoff chances or who Riley had fucked lately. Before Chuck, I didn’t get many chances to discuss feelings, use words like “mindless,” or think about the way the ocean smelled different in various places.

When shadows appeared ahead, coming toward us, I pulled my hand away from Chuck’s. I didn’t want to, but we couldn’t afford for anyone to get the wrong idea. Our experience in the bar had proved there were people in Florida who recognized us.

We all nodded as they walked by, and after they’d gone, I glanced at Chuck. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Not really. I don’t think I’m into that anymore.”

I glanced at him again. “What, girls?”

He was silent for several seconds. “No, dumbass. The whole thing. The bar scene, the small talk, the fake laughing while somebody I don’t even know feels me up. Seems like a waste of time now.”

“I can see that. It’s a pain.”

He brought us to yet another stop and turned to me, his eyes unreadable. “Want to swim?”

“No suits.”

“Ever heard of skinny dipping?”

I hesitated. “There are people around.”

He made a big show of looking up and down the beach. “No there aren’t. And even if someone walks by, it’s dark, and we’ll be in the water.” Grinning, he stripped naked. “Come on. Let’s make it a Christmas Eve to remember.”

It already is.Fuck. Before I could process that thought, Chuck sprinted into the water. “Cold,” he yelled, then let out a big whoop. “Get your ass in here, Nate!”

I stripped and ran after him, laughing the whole way. The water was a shock, but I adjusted quickly and waded out to where he was splashing around. The soft light made everything surreal, glinting off the waves like something on a museum painting.

“Man, this is nice.” His voice was soft, and when he reached for my hand, I let him take it.

“It really is.”

Too nice, maybe.

After our swim, we returned to the hotel. We brushed our teeth, then crawled into bed naked. My mind was still buzzing from the night. “Going out was a disaster.”

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