Page 166 of Jaded

But the glance he tosses my way says he understands how much this game means.

The team’s inside the locker room, music blaring, in various states of dress or undress.

“Shit, Cap! You made it!” Everton yells, the instant before he barrels across the locker room to engulf Olli in an embrace. “I’ve basically been shitting myself here.”

Olli smiles—tired and a little wavery—and gently nudges Everton off. “I’m here. And I’m gonna skate. But I’m gonna suck, just to warn you.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit . . . under the weather. But we’ll talk about that in a minute.” Olli slinks off to his cubby, leaving me standing in the doorway.

“Are you skating?” Charlie’s voice is a low murmur beside me. “You got an invite, right?”

“I’m skating,” I say.

But before I can slip out to find a spot in one of the public locker rooms, Everton pops up in front of me. “You’re changing in here, Forty-Seven.”

I flinch in surprise, but don’t bother denying it. Everton winks, lays a finger across his lips. His other hand extends towards the cubby beside Olli. “Sit, Taylor.”

My stomach churns.

“You look a little green, Tay.” Charlie leans over my shoulder. “Nervous?”

“Don’t remind me, asshole.” I shove him away, then head towards that cubby. “I’m already doing deep breathing fucking zen exercises over here.”

Charlie follows. “That’s so cute.”

“Fuck off.” I lift a middle finger, but he just grins back, using what feels like far too many teeth. “You’re a shit best friend.”

“That I am.” He dives for his cubby on the other side of Olli before I can follow through on any inherent rageful urges.

“He’s fun,” Olli says simply. “Really upstanding guy.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “I’ve known him since we were like . . . seven.”

“Really?”

“My curse.” I bite the inside of my lip. “His too.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Olli tips his shirt from his shoulders, and my eyes stray towards the ink on his back. I trace the lines, shifting over his muscles, trying to uncover the scars.

I don’t find them.

Still, a vise of pressure like icy fingers grips my lungs, and my heart beats too quickly. I feel high again—on adrenaline and nerves, on pressure and angst. This time, there's no coke chemically heating my blood to a froth. Clouding my mind to rationality and reason—

“You breathing?” Olli leans in towards me. “Need to make sure you’re breathing.”

“I’m breathing,” I say, and despite the tumultuous current of my thoughts, I smile. “Thanks.”

“You got this, Mouse.” His voice is soft, a murmur, little more than a whisper. “This game? You got it.”

“Sure.” My reply is half laugh, half scoff. “Just like all the rest.”

Without warning, his fingers close around mine. Lifting my hand from the hem of my shirt, leveling it out flat between us. My heart thrums in my ears at the feel of those fingers—soft, warm, ever so gentle.

Like a whisper of skin on skin.

Like wind through the trees.

---