Page 15 of Full Tilt
His shoulders shift, almost like he’s shaking off the instinct to pull back. But I clock the curve at the corner of his mouth. The glint in his eyes. There is something soft there—buried deep under years of careful caution—but it’s real.
Someone nearby snorts, and I catch the movement of one of his teammates standing. He’s shorter than Camden, wiry strong, and sporting a neat little cut just under his eye. He eyes me like he’s already halfway through working out my life story.
“I’m Lachie,” he says, grinning as he sticks out a hand. “The prettier one.”
“Brent,” I say, shaking it. “The tattooist.”
“Ah.” He nods, looking between us. “The artist. Heard about you.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Always.” He winks, and Camden makes a sound that might be disapproval or amusement—or both.
I glance briefly at the cut on Lachie’s face, and it reminds me that Camden was hurt. There’s a bruise just visible now, darker under the collar of his shirt where it curves towards his side.Geez, he’s hurt more than he let on. My gaze flicks back to his face—and that’s when I catch it.
Both of his eyebrows lift slightly.
Caught out.
Right.
I lift my pint and take a slow sip, playing it casual. “You two look like you went ten rounds with the weather,” I say to both of them. “And the other team.”
Camden’s still watching me, that subtle, unreadable expression firmly in place. But it’s not cold. Not shutting me out. More like he’s… weighing something.
And Lachie? He just smirks. “Welcome to rugby,” he says. “Mud, bruises, and regret. Stick around long enough and you’ll get used to it.”
I nod, but my attention flicks back to Camden. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t said much, but his eyes haven’t left mine once.
“So,” Lachie says, turning to me fully with the gleam of someone who’s just found a new toy, “you’re definitely not from around here, right?”
“The accent gave it away, huh?” I reply. “Grew up in the States. Been in the UK a while now.”
He nods, satisfied for all of a second. “You live alone?”
I blink. “Uh—yes?”
“Any pets?”
“Nope.”
“Family nearby?”
“Nope.”
“Got a girlfriend?”
I laugh. “Nope.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Boyfriend?”
There’s no edge to it—just curiosity, open and shameless.
I smile and shrug. “Not for a while.”
He hums like he’s filing the answer underInteresting,Possibly Important, and I chance a glance at Camden.
He’s still watching me. Still unreadable. But something flickers across his face. Just for a second. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting me to say that. Like maybe it caught him off-guard.
