“Get up,” he said.
I scrambled to my feet, clutching my shoulder. “I didn’t know who he was. I—”
“Shut up,” Cal snapped. He stepped into my space. “Lock up.”
I froze. “What?”
“Presley wants chemistry? We give him chemistry. Lock up.”
I hesitated. We hadn’t touched, really touched, in seven years.
I stepped up.
We collided.
My hand found the back of his neck. His hand clamped onto my tricep.
It wasn’t just memory; it was muscle memory. My body knew his body better than it knew itself. The smell of him, sandalwood and the shampoo he still used, filled my lungs, dizzying me.
But it was different, too.
He felt… solid. Cal had always been the broader one, the powerhouse to my high flyer, but this was different. He was dense now, a brick wall of muscle. His center of gravity was lower, immovable.
And I was different, too. I wasn’t the skinny kid anymore. I’d finally filled out my lean frame, adding at least twenty pounds of muscle since the accident.
We circled, testing the weight, feeling the new physics of us.
I went for a standard arm drag, expecting him to give. He didn’t. He planted his feet, resisting effortlessly, and reversed it, spinning behind me in a blur of speed I wasn’t ready for.
He’s faster,my brain registered.Much faster.
He took my back. Old instinct took over. I dropped my weight, grounding myself, using my new size to break his grip. I spun out and caught him in a side headlock.
He didn’t fight it with strength; he fought it with leverage, shooting me off the ropes.
I rebounded, coming back at him. We flowed.
Drop down. Leapfrog. Hip toss.
It wasn’t choppy like it was with the kid. It was perfect. We moved like water. Like we shared a nervous system. I knew where he was going to be before he got there. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply to my shoulder to make it look real without hurting me.
For a minute, the weeks of silence vanished. The years vanished.
I caught him in a fireman’s carry, rolling through, and he landed on his feet cat like, instantly spinning to face me. We stood there, chests heaving, sweat dripping, inches apart.
The adrenaline was humming in my veins. The thrill of the dance.
“You got heavy,” Cal panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, acknowledging the muscle I’d finally put on.
“You got fast,” I breathed back.
We stared at each other. The air between us crackled, thick and heavy with everything we weren’t saying. The gym faded away. It was just us. Just Silas and Cal.
I saw his eyes drop to my lips. Just a flicker. A glimmer of something that looked like want.
Then, panic.
Cal scrambled back, breaking the proximity like he’d been burned.
