Page 762 of End Game

He is simply seeing more.

His brain does something with rope that mine does not. I see pressure, load, access, and function. Micah sees those things and the relationship between every line on Cami's body—the way changing one angle makes another look cleaner, how the rope frames rather than hides her curves, where symmetry helps and where perfect symmetry would actually make the whole tie less visually interesting.

He studies the line through her hips for several seconds, then looks at me.

“If I bring this section a little higher, I can clean this up without changing where she's carrying weight.”

I follow his hand and check what he's proposing.

He's right.

“Your geometry,” I tell him. “I'll watch the load.”

His eyes meet mine for half a second longer than necessary.

The reaction is subtle, because most of Micah's reactions are, but I see it anyway.

Trust matters to him when it is spoken aloud.

I let him make the adjustment without hovering over his hands.

That is more difficult for me than I would like to admit.

Not because I think he'll do it wrong. If I thought that, I wouldn't let him do it at all. My problem is that I am very comfortable being responsible for every variable myself, and sharing responsibility requires accepting that another competent person can own part of the outcome without me supervising every movement.

That is apparently one of tonight's lessons.

It is also, unfortunately, the exact moment Dex decides Griffin needs feedback on his appearance.

“So we're all ignoring the fact that Griff looks like he should be modeling in firefighter calendars?”

I close my eyes briefly.

Cami laughs again.

We're all shirtless now because rope work gets warm and excess fabric gets irritating. Griffin looks down at himself as if he has somehow forgotten this.

Dex gestures at him. “I know you're aggressively heterosexual, but I still have eyes. And you are one fine specimen of a human being”

Griffin gives him one long look. “I know.”

Micah stops moving.

Cami makes a strangled noise.

I turn my face away for a second because that was, objectively, an excellent answer.

Dex looks almost offended. “I'm sorry?”

Griffin shrugs. “I own mirrors.”

“That level of confidence is deeply unsettling.”

“Good.”

Micah is still laughing quietly when we resume.

Dex manages to behave for approximately another minute.