Page 65 of Shut Up and Score
And for a second…a split second—he looks at me as though I’ve taken off a mask he didn’t realize I was wearing.
Then it’s gone.
He wraps the towel around his neck like armor and forces a scoff, but it’s thin. Brittle around the edges.
“Jesus,” he mutters, voice too flat. “Save the therapy lines for your next tragic hookup.”
He turns toward the showers without looking back.
I don’t think. I just move.
By the time I push off the bench, Micah’s already at the edge of the showers, towel slung loose around his neck, fingers gripping the waistband of his pads like he’s seconds from peeling them off and walking away like nothing happened.
That I didn’t just say that. As if he didn’t look at me like I’d torn something open he wasn’t ready to name.
“Micah,” I say, voice low.
He doesn’t turn around. “Locker room’s that way, Taylor. Shower’s booked for people who can still run a clean play.”
I step into the tiled hall after him.
“Stop.”
He glances back, just once, just long enough to let me see the spark in his eyes that says he’s not afraid of me.
But he should be. Not because I’d ever hurt him. Not again, at least. But because I don’t think I can hold this back much longer.
“Coming in here to watch me shower now?” he throws over his shoulder. “Real subtle.”
“You always run away the second shit gets real?”
“Run?” He whirls around, bare feet skidding on the tile. “That’s rich coming from you. King of emotional cowardice.”
I stalk closer.
“Funny,” I say. “You keep calling me a coward, but you haven’t asked what I meant back there.”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t care what you meant.”
“Bullshit.”
Micah steps back.
I step forward. Once. Twice.
We’re breathing the same air now, and it’s electric. Humid. Dangerous.
The water kicks on behind him—motion sensor, cold spray hitting the tile.
Micah doesn’t flinch.
Neither do I.
“Say it,” he spits. “Say whatever sad, repressed thing you think’ll get me to fold.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
I reach for him, grabbing him by the back of the neck. He tenses, and I'm pretty sure he’s going to bolt. So, I kiss him.
