Page 42 of Clean Point

‘Scottie, you came clean. You owned up to what you did,’ I started. We were face to face, her eyes looking into mine before glancing down to where her hands were pulling at the other nervously, her nerve lost. Apprehensively, I reached out, my fingers tipping up her soft chin so she would meet my gaze. A lock of blonde hair fell into her face, and I pushed the soft golden strand behind her ear, keeping her freckled face clear.

‘I don’t know what happened,’ I continued, ‘but I know you now. And I know I can trust you. As both a teammate and as a friend.’ The word friend felt wrong, like it wasn’t big enough to encompass everything I felt for her, but it was the only descriptor I could think of. ‘Not many people would’ve ever had the courage to step up and take responsibility for what they did, but you did. I’m proud of you for that. And I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone work as hard as you do.’ The lump in my throat reappeared, and no matter what, I couldn’t swallow it down as the truth poured out, like I’d been cut with a blade, the injury deep and sharp, and now I couldn’t stop from bleeding out. She had to know. She had to see.

‘Watching you these weeks,’ I continued. ‘I can see why Jon had so much faith in you after everything. His career was in ruins after you came forward, and I couldn’t understand how, after that, he could ever trust you. But he believed you’d changed, and … and so do I. You’re committed, you work harder than anyone else here.’

The air was thick with tension as I kept my eyes on her, wanting to make sure that she knew I meant every word I had said. After a moment to collect myself, my lips broke out into a slight smile, trying to ease us out of the tension. ‘I’m not sure how an old man like me is going to keep up.’

She scoffed, some of that playful brightness returning to her eyes. ‘You aren’t that old.’

My smile widened. ‘So, you admit it?’

She tilted her head, looking at me through her thick eyelashes. ‘Don’t get too cocky there, Kotas.’

My name on her tongue – nobody had ever made it sound so good.

‘Wouldn’t dare, Sinclair,’ I replied, her own smile growing at the rhyme of my words. I lost myself for a moment staring at her, forgetting the point I was trying to make, but a quick glance over my shoulder reminded me.

‘Give them a chance to get to know you. Stop hiding yourself away. You spent the last two years running, don’t you think it’s time to stop?’ I asked, watching as her gaze dipped away from mine, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

‘Since when did you become so convincing?’ she murmured, shaking her head. Pride welled from inside of me. That’s my brave girl.

I hummed to myself, unable to tear myself away from her for even a second. ‘Probably right around the time Jon convinced me to start playing with you.’

A laugh escaped her on a breath and when she looked up at me again, her usual mask of confidence was restored. She looked ready for battle, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

‘You coming?’ I asked, looking to her for an answer.

With a deep breath in, she nodded, before leading me out into the garden, ready for the battle. And as I watched her leave, confidence in her stride, I realized everything Inés and Henrik – even Dylan – had insinuated about us might not be so far from the truth after all.

20

Scottie

Final Girl – CHVRCHES

There was one fundamental issue with Nico’s plan to talk me through the game: there were only four seats around the garden table.

At first, he offered to stand, help me from over my shoulder. A perfectly reasonable solution that I fought. Nobody takes a seat away from another person without arguing about it. I offered to sit on the ground, or even go find another chair, maybe drag one outside from the dining room. Then, with a smug smile I couldn’t quite understand, Inés piped up.

‘Why don’t you sit on Nico’s lap?’ she oh-so-innocently suggested.

And why wouldn’t I sit on Nico? Why wouldn’t that be the weirdest thing in the world to make a comfy seat out of my teammate’s lap? Maybe it was the way he looked at me in the kitchen as he told me he trusted me, the way his fingers brushed my hair back behind my ear. Maybe it was the fact I liked it far too much.

Now there I was, sat on Nico’s lap, like this was a normal thing to do around other people. Like this was a normal thing to do for us.

He held the cards out in front of us, explaining how the game should be played, while his head rested above my shoulder, his chest pressed into my side.

‘If you look in the middle,’ he murmured into my ear, trying to keep our hand a secret from everyone else in the game. His breath was hot against my neck, and I had to suppress a shiver from running down my back. ‘You can see we have a straight.’ His finger flicked the corner of two cards he held.

I nodded my head as he continued to explain the rules in a whisper. I had to stop myself from fidgeting, wriggling around and digging into his lap with my thigh bones. This was awkward as hell, and I had somehow been convinced to agree to it.

‘I’ll play this hand, explain the logic, and you can play the next one,’ he said, his voice sounding slightly hoarse.

‘Sure.’ My own words were filled with apprehension, trying to keep the contact to a minimum so I wouldn’t focus on how good his body felt against mine again. The taut muscles of his torso, the firmness of his legs. Even if I didn’t dare look at his face too closely, it was impossible not to notice how good he looked. Long eyelashes framed grey eyes, a ring of sea green around his iris was visible now that I was so close to him, and a jaw so sharp it cut its own way into my memory and had me longing to trace it with my finger, to feel the rough edge of his stubble against my skin.

‘Alright, let’s keep this interesting. We’ll bet twenty.’ Nico confidently threw a couple chips into the middle of the table.

Dylan scoffed, sitting up straight in her chair as she eyed Nico behind me. ‘Only twenty? Not feeling too confident, Kotas?’ I stiffened further as her eyes glanced past me, narrowing in an all too familiar way. She didn’t need to tell me I wasn’t welcome; I could read it all over her face.

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