Like a sieve, I felt the tension slowly drain out of Brax. His hands found my hips and those ethereal eyes clashed with mine. “You noticed.”
“Wow. It’s like a freaking magic show or something, the way you tame the beast.” Tessa’s sunglasses hid her expressive eyes, but I knew they danced with mischief. “Can we go now or are you two going to make out right here? ’Cause I’m starved.”
Brax’s mouth lifted and a dangerous spark glinted in his eyes. His fingers dug into my waist. “Decisions, decisions.”
“If you’re riding with me then let’s skin outta here,” Cory said as he started down the bleachers.
“Not so fast, fellas.” A tall man in his early forties waited by the dug out. He looked directly at Cory, then Brax. “What’s with the fists, son?”
“It’s cool, Coach,” Brax answered. “Handled and done.”
The coach’s skeptical gaze swept over Brax. “I’ve heard that one before.” He gave a quick look at Cory. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again or you’re benched.”
“Yes, sir,” Brax answered. “No more fists.”
The coach trained his eye on Brax. “I mean it, son.”
Brax didn’t say anything as the coach walked away. I looked up, and Brax tapped me on the nose with his fingertip. “No worries, sweetheart. You hear me?”
I nodded, but the worry remained.
“Shit. That’s all you need, bro. That fuckin’ temper of yours is epic. Can we skin outta here now?” Cory said.
“Yeah,” Tessa chimed in. “Come on, you disgusting lovebirds. There’s a pizza and a pitcher of beer with our name on it.”
Brax’s stare held mine for a handful of seconds longer, ignoring the playful taunts of our friends. In his eyes I thought I saw hesitance; something a little darker, maybe. It was so fast, I couldn’t be sure. But before I could question it, he tilted his chin and tugged my hips. “Let’s get out of here.”
We rode in the back of Cory’s work-in-progress Camaro with the windows down, Metallica blasting through the stereo and Tessa singing at the top of her lungs. Brax held my hand, our fingers entwined and resting on his muscled thigh and it felt comfortable, secure. Yet I’d noticed a shift in him as we rode; a quieter, more withdrawn Brax, and I wasn’t exactly sure if Kelsy’s presence was the sole reason behind it. I wondered about what Kelsy had said. Something about a dare? I held my tongue, though. For some reason I wanted to ask him about it in private. Not in front of Tessa and Cory. Coming from Kelsy Evans, it had to be something ridiculous. He was purposely trying to make me mad.
After we’d settled into a booth at Milani’s Pizzeria, along with most of the other Silverbacks baseball team, Tessa, elated to be parked in a booth beside Cory, leaned forward and flicked her straw paper at me. “Liv, what was it that brainless jerkoff said to you earlier? Oh yeah. Something about a dare?” She looked at Brax. “I’d heard a rumor about Kappa Phi fraternity dares when I was a senior in high school.” Her gaze drifted to me. “I’m talking loco dares, chica. Like stuff you see on Jackass. My brother said it was just that. Bullshit rumors. Kinda disappointing, really.” She wiggled her perfectly arched brows. “Like finding out there’s no Santa Claus.”
Well, so much for me waiting to ask Brax about it in private. Cory’s gaze darted to Brax’s, and I felt his body stiffen beside me where our thighs brushed together. A hooded, smoky sheen glazed over Cory’s chocolate brown eyes, then his mouth tilted in a rare grin. “Sorry, Tessa. Just another famous Winston urban legend.” The muscle in his jaw flinched. “Dares are just as bad as hazing. Against school policy.”
“Bummer,” Tessa said. Our pizza came, and the topic was dropped. Brax returned to his usual obnoxious, arrogant, charming self, yet not completely; at least in my eyes. That subtle hesitancy remained, and I was pretty sure only I noticed it. Maybe Cory, too.
After Cory dropped us off at the dorm and Tessa waved goodbye, Brax, still in his clay-stained Silverbacks uniform, walked to his motorcycle and started the engine. I stood close by in silence, the old familiar taste of dread on my tongue like I knew something bad was about to happen. He wasn’t acting the same. Not the confident Brax I’d known since day one, not the zealous Brax who could barely keep his hands off me. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d done something wrong. Despite heavy make-out sessions, we’d not taken it to the next level. I knew Brax wanted to; felt the urgency in his touch, in his kiss. I knew he’d refrained because of my ring. Had that become too much of a burden on him? I mean, what hot-blooded twenty year old guy withheld from sex, no matter that a ring existed? Or … Jesus, maybe he hadn’t withheld at all. Thoughts of the girl from the seafood restaurant that first night out with Brax returned. Old fears. Self doubt.