“I’m sorry,” Bishop sighs. “Coach called a meeting to see who’d be able to participate so we could raise money for our team. Reece put your name in the ring but Coach immediately shut it down. We thought he might try something, so we were watching. We weren’t close enough to stop him from getting you onto the stage, and I’m sorry for that.”
Jude looks at him carefully. Bishop doesn’t fill the silence with excuses, which is why Bishop is better at this than I am. If it were only me, I’d already be promising too much, talking too fast, offering everything I can think of until Jude climbed over the back of the couch to get away from me.
Jude’s thumb drags once over the label on the water bottle. “That was an expensive rescue.”
I shrug. “Worth it, though.”
His eyes flick to me. “Is dramatic in public a swim team requirement?”
“Only for captains and people who think open turns are optional.”
That gets him. It’s small, more air than laugh, but it’s there. Bishop’s thumb strokes over my knuckles again, slower this time, because he knows exactly what Jude almost smiling does to me.
Jude notices that too. His gaze drops to our hands, then to Bishop’s other hand resting near my back, ready to press if I get too eager.
“Is he always like this?” Jude asks, still looking at me.
“Usually worse,” Bishop says.
“I’m sitting right here,” I tell him.
“I know. I’m keeping you there.”
Jude looks at me properly then, and the attention is so sudden I have to hold still. He takes in my shoulders, my hands, my mouth, then the ridiculous way I’m trying to sit casually while every part of me is tuned to him.
“You’re very bad at pretending you’re calm.”
“I’m usually better.”
Bishop’s palm lands between my shoulder blades. “He once paced for twenty minutes because you laughed at something Nelson said near the pool.”
My head snaps toward him. “That was private.”
Jude’s mouth twitches. This time it’s closer to real, and I light up so fast I can feel Bishop’s hand press harder against my back.
“Breathe, babe,” he murmurs.
Jude’s eyes brighten with the first real amusement I’ve seen all night, and I’m so relieved I almost don’t care that it’s at my expense. Almost. “You’ve been watching me? Why? Is it because of... you know?” He gestures wildly, obviously referring to the incident last year.
A frown takes over my face. “Why would you think that? I really—” Bishop jabs me in the side and I sigh. “I don’t reallywant to talk about swimming,” I say. “Or the auction. Or Reece. Or any of it, unless you want to. I just want you to sit here and drink water and maybe keep insulting me if that helps.”
Jude goes still before a smile creeps onto his face. “Insulting you is very generous of me,” he says finally.
“I know.”
He takes another sip of water, and the bottle crinkles softly in his grip. When he shifts, his knee brushes my thigh. The contact is small enough that anyone else might miss it. I don’t. My entire body clocks that single point of warmth like a starting signal, and Bishop’s fingers flex against my back before I can hold my breath too long.
“Hollis,” he warns softly.
“I’m fine.”
I’m not fine. But this moment iseverything.I grin before I can help it, too pleased by the fact that he’s talking to me to remember I’m supposed to be acting normal. Bishop makes a low sound beside me, half warning and half fond, and I force myself to settle before I crowd Jude with how happy I am that he’s still here, still dry enough to cut at me, still letting his knee stay against my thigh.
His scent keeps pulling at me. Sea spray and grapefruit under the sour edge of fear, bright enough that every breath feels like taking him in deeper than I’m allowed. I know better than to trust that alone, especially since Jude isn’t answering it.
He sets the bottle on the table. “You’re really committed to the no touching thing.”
My voice comes out lower than I mean it to. “You haven’t asked me to.”
