I slide my foot from my sandal, then press it against his, beneath the table, safely out of sight. His body freezes in the instant, his fork pausing above an olive. His eyes are slow to rise, and they hit mine with all the force of a tidal wave.
My heart rebounds from the contact, so I shift my gaze to some fruit, reaching for a fig to keep my hands busy.
I slide my toes along the edge of his foot, making sure he knows it’s no accident. He lifts his own to my arch, tickling along it.
My thumbs dig deep into the pink flesh to help me wrestle down the smile.
“Who does decide?” Elijah asks.
Robin slips his toes back down the sensitive skin, a place I haven’t been touched by anyone else in years. A chuckle works its way up my throat, and I look up just long enough to see the grin on his face—fleeting, incredibly alluring—before he lowers his head again.
“He asked you a question.” Jason’s voice hits like a rusty nail in my wrist, especially when I look up and see how intently he’s watching Robin.
Stupid of me.
I wrench my foot back. “What was the question?”
“Who decides?” Elijah asks again. “On the fixtures.”
“The game architects. It’s uh… It’s a draw. The first round of matches is anyway.” Robin’s foot stretches across again, and I grab the teapot, pouring a cup. I could pull away. I should pull away. But I like him helping himself to me. I want him to do it again later. “All you new boys,” I eye them—Robin, Cas, Elijah, Harlan, Valentine, Andreas, those that extend further down the table, “you’ll be up in the first eight rounds. Survive that, you’ll make it into the variety rounds, then finally, the champions rounds. From there, as you know, four of us will live to fight next season.”
“Yes!” Jason makes some sort of grunting celebratory sound next to me, as if he’s already won. He pats me on the shoulder, once, twice, then decides to leave his hand there, scrunching his fingers into me repeatedly. Leaningforward, he focuses on Robin. “That means it might eventually be you and me out there, pretty boy.”
I tilt my head away from him, but he holds on forcefully, parting his legs so his thigh hits mine. A gross display of ownership.
My face turns slowly. I keep the smile and the genial tone. “Get your hand off of me.”
His lips pull tight. Although he does move his hand, it’s slow, like a spider crawling down my back. He keeps his glare on Robin just long enough to catch the smug smile at the corner of his mouth.
Fuck, it looks good there.
Then Jason’s black eyes meet mine. There’s something right on the edge of his tongue. I can almost hear it. My heart beats a little harder wondering whether his jealousy or his intelligence will win out.
This is not a good place to have someone like me for an enemy, but I can tell he’s dying to make our past known to Robin, right here, right now.
Suddenly, his hand shoots out, and with a splash, Robin’s white shirt turns orange, the juice from Jason’s glass tossed all over him.
“You fuck!” Robin yells, his chair smashing to the ground as he leaps to his feet.
“Shit, sorry, man,” Jason goads. “Clumsy. You’d better go change.”
“I can beat the shit out of you just like this,” Robin throws back. He’s so fast to anger. Their feud must still be going strong.
“Let’s go, pretty boy,” Jason says, climbing to his feet. Max breaks into a laugh. The men start gathering around like I wouldn’t personally beat the shit out of every one of them for this, a week before the first match and all.
“Sit the fuck down,” I command them.
Instant silence. They all drop, except Robin.
“Guards!” I shout. “Jason’s on lavatory duty this morning. Take him out.”
“Fuck off, Marco!” he spits.
“And tomorrow. And until he learns some respect. Don’t fucking touch me, and don’t make a mess of the breakfast table. Got it?”
He only stands there, seething, his fists clenching, and I wish he’d throw a punch. I wish he’d give me one good reason to retaliate. But this time his smarts do win out, and he storms off with the guards.
“Shower, birdie.” I don’t raise my eyes to him, only catch the edge of his built legs as he waits, hesitates, then leaves the room without another word.
