Page 119 of Shut Up and Score
Micah tips his head back into the water, eyes closed, letting it pour over his face before he finally looks at me. Calm. Unbothered. Dangerous.
“You, apparently.”
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. “You don’t get to just—just act as though last night was nothing!”
He steps toward me slowly, his naked body taking up my whole view, and my whole body goes hot, steam and adrenaline tangling until I can’t tell which is which. “I told you what it was, Colton. You’re the one who keeps wanting it to be more.”
“Because itismore!” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice cracks, humiliatingly loud in the empty showers. “You don’t—You can’t kiss me like that, touch me like that, hold me all night, and then walk away like I’m?—”
“Like you’re what?” He’s in front of me now, so close that the spray from his shower is cooling the sweat on my chest. His eyes are dark, unreadable, and his hand comes up, slow and deliberate, to press against the wet tile behind me, caging me in. Water drips down his forearm, runs over his tattoos. “Say it, Golden Boy. Say what you think you are to me.”
I can’t. The words stick in my throat, too big and too scared to escape.
He leans closer, water dripping from his hair onto my face, his voice dropping to a rasp. “You’re nothing to me, Colt. Just a boy still living his life in the closet.”
The words slam in me, and I blink away the emotion blurring my vision. My chest caves, but anger flares hot through the hurt. “You—” My voice shakes, but I force it out. “You haven’t even given me a chance. You think I wouldn’t tell anyone? That I wouldn’t claim you? You didn’t even let me try!”
His jaw flexes, and for a second—just a second—he falters. Then his eyes narrow, sharp and cruel in self-defense.
“Yeah?” His voice drops to a dangerous purr as he leans closer, steam curling around his shoulders. “What if you don’t need to? What if we just fuck, and that’s it? No one needs to know. No one needs to get hurt. You get me, I get you, and the rest of the world can stay out of it.”
The offer hangs between us, thick as the steam gathering around us. My pulse hammers. A part of me—the scared, selfish part—wants to say yes. Wants to take whatever pieces of him I can get, no matter how twisted it feels. And stay in the closet I’ve trapped myself in.
And he sees it. Hefeelsit in the way I freeze, my mouth opening, but no sound coming out.
Micah’s gaze hardens. He pulls back as if my hesitation burned him. “Yeah. No,” he mutters, voice flat now, shaking his head. “Not interested in maybe. Not interested in living in the closet. You don’t get to want me in secret. That’s not how it works this time.”
I flinch. “Micah?—”
But he’s already turning away, snatching his towel off the hook, his shoulders rigid. Water slides down the long lines of his back, tracing over muscle and the curve of his ass before he wraps the towel low around his hips. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t slow, just stalks toward the locker room as if I’m not even there.
I sag back against the wet tile, chest heaving, every nerve buzzing like I just got tackled and flattened all at once.
By the time I drag myself out of the locker room, I feel hollowed out. The sun’s too bright, the quad’s too loud, and I can still feel Micah’s eyes on mine, his voice cutting through me.Not interested in maybe.
I find a spot under one of the big oak trees near the fountain, drop my bag, and just…sit. My hair’s still damp, the back ofmy shirt sticking to my spine. I probably look like a kicked puppy. I definitelyfeellike one.
I’m staring at nothing when Luke’s voice cuts through the buzz of students passing by. “Wow. Golden Boy looks as if he got benched for life. What’d you do, Taylor? Forget how to throw?”
I groan, pressing my palms over my eyes. “Go away, Luke.”
“Uh, no. I live for this. You sulking in public? Chef’s kiss. What the hell happened?” Luke flops down beside me, his cleats clinking in his bag as he drops it onto the grass. He elbows me. “C’mon. Spill. You look as though someone stole your puppy. Or your boyfriend.”
The word makes my chest squeeze. I huff out a shaky laugh. “He’s…not my boyfriend.”
Luke’s brows shoot up, but he doesn’t look surprised, more like he’s waiting for me to say it out loud. “He, huh? Finally admitting it? I’m not one to out someone, but it’s sorta obvious you're not straight.”
“Bi,” I mumble, picking at a blade of grass and wishing it could save me. “I guess. Or something. I don’t know. I just—fuck.” My throat’s tight, the words fighting me like they have every time I thought about saying them out loud. But it’s Luke. He already knows. He has to. Micah’s his friend. And if he wanted to ruin me, he would’ve done it already.
I blow out a breath and let the words fall. “It’s Micah.”
Luke nods slowly, confirming that he’s known all along. “Yeah. Figured.” He leans in a little, voice lowering. “So what happened? He looked ready to murder someone in the locker room, and you…” He gestures at me, sprawled in the grass like roadkill. “…look like this.”
My laugh comes out broken. “I screwed it up. We…God, Luke, wedid everything. Like,everything. And for a minute, it felt real. Like—like maybe we were going to—” My chest aches. “But I hesitated. I got scared. And now he says he’s not interested in ‘maybe.’ He says he’s not doing the closet thing.”
Luke lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. “Yeah…that sounds like Micah. He’s got that whole ‘know your worth’ thing down. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Just means he’s not gonna let you play safe forever.”
I nod, staring at my knees. “He held me all night, man. We fell asleep like—I don’t even know. Like it was real. And then he left me alone in his dorm room. And then he looked right through me this morning.”
