Oh, shitis the first thought I have. My muscles are mad at me. Mad that I’m doing this. Mad that they are being called on for something they haven’t done since tenth-grade gym class. But I grit my teeth and push in rhythm. My shoulders ache, my biceps ache, my neck even feels tight, but I can do it. Maybe half a second slower than the rest of them, but I am keeping up. Down, up, down, up. I try to keep count and immediately lose it. Just focus on keeping the tension in my muscles, on notslamming into the ground. And ramming my smashed tits into my rib cage. But I’m doing it, I’m doing okay. Down, up, down?—
“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” Pan jumps forward onto his knees and makes the timeout signal. “We gotta standardize this. I don’t like this cheating.”
“What?” I nearly collapse to the ground.
Kit stops, and so does Fox, a lot more elegantly.
“Your hands, dude,” he says, gesturing at me. “You’ve got ‘em all, like, pushed out.”
I look beneath me.Obviously, I do, I think. Out loud, all I say is, “Do I?”
“Yeah.” Fox nods. “You definitely do.”
I swallow. “Okay, so? Is that wrong?”
Kit just shrugs. “It isn’t standard,” he says.
“I don’t know about wrong,” Pan says, considering, “but I think it’s probably unfair. I rule we all have to do it the same.”
Fuck.I exhale sharply. “What difference does it make?”
“Every difference!” Pan cries. “Come on, dude. It’s just a push-up.”
I chew the inside of my cheek so hard I think I can taste blood. “Fine,” I grit out.
“All right, ready,” Wendy says, “and no cheating this time.”
I wasn’tcheating, I think, but I assume the position anyway.
“And go.”
This time it’s not gonna work. I can feel it from the first rep. The muscles that were aching and tight before are now weak, failing, barely able to get my body weight back up. There goes my brilliant plan. I push, the down and up of Wendy’s voice almost ringing in my ears. My jaw tense, my abs tense, my arms screaming, but it doesn’t make any difference. I’m already out of sync. Slowing, shaking. Droplets of sweat hitting on the ground and then?—
Bang. One last spasm for my stupid shoulders, and I just fall smack right into the ground.
“Oh, shit,” someone whispers.
It’s Kit, nearest to me. He scrambles up, offers me a hand.
“Thanks.” I take it without looking at him. It’s warm and surprisingly strong. I rub the edge of my cheekbone where I hit the ground. “Fucking embarrassing,” I mutter.
“Aw, nothing to be ashamed of.” Someone smacks me on my shoulder—Pan. “You lost fair and square, my friend.”
“I’m just fucking tired,” I mutter under my breath.
“You don’t have to get a tattoo if you don’t want.” To my left, a voice muttering in my ear—Kit. I turn and look up at him, or over at him since we’re practically the same height. His eyes are bright, a warmth in the medium brown behind the lenses. “Seriously, dude,” he says, voice low. “I am not going to ink anyone against their will.”
“But those are the rules,” Wendy cries. “I wanted to pick something out.”
“Yeah, I don’t like all this reneging,” Pan says, eyes narrowed. “Lost Boys are supposed to be men of our word, you know.”
There is just a hint of sharpness to his words that I can’t ignore.
“It’s fine,” I say, to Pan and to Kit. “I did lose. Just, uh—” I wince, rubbing my arms a little. “Maybe give me a day to recover.”
CHAPTER 24
BLUE
