“It is,” I said carefully, feeling incredibly exposed. I wanted to reach for my gloves and do something with my hands. “Which makes you the intruder. Don’t touch anything.”
He smirked.
“I mean it, Dante,” I said, my voice slightly firmer. “There are rules in here.”
His smile was slow, deliberate. “Rules. Between us?”
I gave him my best imitation of my dad’s flat administrator glare.
“Relax. I know better than to mess with sharp edges.” He dropped his backpack and circled the room slowly, taking it all in, and I watched every movement like he was about to disappear.
“You hide out here a lot?” he asked when he had come full circle.
I didn’t look at him, averting my eyes to his backpack, sitting there like it had a right to, but it also looked like it was going to fall over at any moment. “I don’t classify it as hiding.”
“Interesting.” He moved again, like a predator checking boundaries. “Just seems like a lot of secrecy for someone who says she isn’t hiding.”
My jaw tightened. “Not everything needs to be broadcast for the world to see, Ten. Not everyone wants their own spotlight.”
“Funny,” he said, voice low. He inched closer to my sculpture. “Can I see?”
“Absolutely not.” My voice cracked like a whip. “Rules, remember!”
He grinned, but nodded and stepped back. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So... is it me?” he teased, and I laughed loudly.
“Why would it be you?” I couldn’t help but smile at his nonsense.
Dante frowned. “Why would itnotbe me?”
I shook my head, pretty sure he was joking, not one hundred percent sure he wasn’t. “Your ego is truly ridiculous.”
He gave me that smile and rocked back on his heels. I took a quick inventory of his bruises, noticing when he rolled his shoulder one too many times to be mere habit.
“I heard you lost some privileges?” I murmured, freezing a little when he shot me a hard stare. “What happened, Spence? Did the star QB get knocked down to the same level as the little people again?” I’d only been teasing, but I saw his mask drop into place. “I was just being funny,” I murmured.
His eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing for a while, surprising me when he did speak.
“I almost got Noah kicked out,” he told me softly, frowning while staring at the floor.
Wow. “Really? I’m sorry.”
He looked over at me, frowning. “Why would you be sorry? You didn’t start a fight in a bar.” His eyebrow arched in amusement. “That I know of.”
I shook my head at his playfulness, his effort to lighten the mood. Leaning against my workbench, I watched him. “No, I have never been in a fight in a bar. I’ve never been in a fight at all.” The silence after that was sharp. Heavy. I felt like there was more than glass in this shed that was breakable. “Are you okay? You don’t look better, but I can tell you’re not as hurt.”
He shrugged. “Been flattened by enough defensive ends and linebackers to be able to bounce back.”
“That’s kinda sad.”
“That’s football, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.It rolled off his tongue too easily. Too glib. I didn’t like it, knew he was deflecting.
“Don’t do that.” He didn’t look my way. “Don’t give me your cookie-cutter press persona, not now.” That did make him look back at me, and his stare stuck on me. “Was Saturday night about football?” I asked tentatively. “Or something else?”
Dante tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I no longer know what Saturday was.”
I wasn’t expecting his honesty. But then, that’s what he was, wasn’t it? Unapologetically honest.
