I suppose that it is kind of damning.
Remaining just inside the door, I watch as he paces. His hair is short enough that it only barely looks like a mess. But he’s normally clean shaven and right now, he has several days’ growth on his face.
He doesn’t speak, just walks around staring at nothing. Absently. I can almostseethe stress radiating from his body in waves. His shoulders are tense, but he’s sagging as if he’s carrying the world on his shoulders.
Setting the bag of food down, I step further into the room and sit on the couch. “Felton.”
He stops abruptly and blinks several times. His eyes don’t meet mine even as he looks in my direction.
“Come here and sit down,” I say.
Felton sways, but he joins me on his couch. He smells like soap. Now that he’s close, I can see how red and raw part of his chest is. As if he’s been trying to scrub away this moment.
“Let’s talk.”
He licks his lips. “The accounts are deleted,” he mutters gruffly. As if he hasn’t used his voice in days. “They’re going to let me play again.”
“That’s good news, right?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes closing.
“Then why are you still freaking out? It’s over, right?”
Felton flinches and turns his face away. It’s apparently not over.
I’m not good about comforting someone I’m close with, never mind someone I’m only friendly with, so I’m not entirely sure what he needs. The quiet chimes I heard when I entered the room pick up for one loud minute, filling the room with a cryptic melody. I glance up, scanning the room for their source before it dies down to a quiet ambiance.
“I’m on probation,” Felton explains. “I can’t go back to the arena until the seventh, after the fourth game I’m suspended from.”
The way he’s talking makes me feel like he’s giving a report. I’m not sure what to do with this information. It’s good news, isn’t it?
“They’re not going to dock my pay, but I need to live as if I’m a saint for the duration of my contract. I don’t think they’re going to renew it.”
“That’s their loss,” I say. “It’s the team’s loss and a mistake.”
He shrugs.
His eyes never meet mine as he talks. My gaze scans down his body and I find his hands fidgeting in his lap, playing with the hem of his shorts. This close, I can’t see the tattoo. It’s completely covered.
“When did you eat last?” I ask, trying a different approach.
His eyes close and he doesn’t respond. Maybe he doesn’t know.
“I brought some food and I’m starving. Eat something with me?”
This time, his eyes flicker to mine. Briefly. Just barely meeting my eyes. He gives me a subtle nod.
“Show me where your kitchen is?”
Felton gets up and I follow him once I grab the bag again. He stands in the doorway, so I gently push him inside and to a stool at the counter.
“You okay if I make us something to eat?”
He nods.
I head to the fridge, expecting to find it empty, but it’s fully stocked. “You go shopping recently?” I ask.
“It gets delivered on preset dates,” he answers. His voice sounds so defeated.
