Page 73 of Glitched Play

From across the room, Tyler waves both hands like he's trying to land an aircraft.

"I think that's my cue," I say.

Chase glances over. "He's either ready to leave or about to ask Greyson O'Ryan if he can date his daughter."

I groan. "I need to tell Tyler goodbye before he does something to get me fired."

"Smart."

We make our way across the ballroom, weaving through donors and players and executives who all look like they belong in magazines. Every few steps, someone stops Chase or Tyler, and every time, Chase is charming without trying. Tyler is louder, brighter, and entirely too pleased with himself. By the time we reach him, Paulina has been pulled away by Greyson, but Tyler is still smiling like the night personally handed him a trophy.

"Don't," I say before he can speak.

Tyler’s grin widens. "I didn't say anything."

"You were going to."

"She's nice."

"Tyler."

"What? I said nice."

"Don't do anything to get me fired."

He scoffs. "You think I don't know how to behave around important people?"

Chase and I both stare at him.

Tyler sighs. "Wow. No faith."

"I have faith," I say. "In your baseball skills."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

He pulls me into a hug, squeezing too tight like always. "I'm proud of you, Mace."

The words nearly break me.

Because Tyler doesn't say things like that often. He loves loudly, annoyingly, through teasing and headlocks and eating the last of whatever snack I wanted. But this is different. Softer. Real.

"Thanks," I say, my voice catching.

He pulls back and studies my face. "You okay?"

Good grief. Apparently every man in my life has decided tonight is the night to become emotionally observant.

"I'm fine."

"That's what girls say when they're not fine."

"Who taught you that?"

"Lauren." He kisses the top of my head. "Don't work too hard."

"Don't flirt with the owner's granddaughter too hard."