Page 86 of Forever We Fall

Showoff.

“As in the college that has one of the greatest wrestling programs in all of the United States,” I grouse.

“The best,” Nate corrects with a grin. His gaze slides off me and over to Arlo. “So are you going to try out for the wrestling team this season? You look like you would be great at it.” His eyes linger on Arlo’s body.

The unfamiliar pressure throws itself against my chest. It makes me want to step between them and shove Nate back a step or two.

“No,” I bark. “But he is going to finish this last set. Unless he’s wimping out?”

Arlo’s head jerks toward me. His intense brows are scrunched together as he outright dissects me. “I’m not wimping out.” He steps up to the bar and wraps his long, thick fingers around it. “How many did you get?”

“Five,” I grumble.

“Nate!” Someone hollers from the other side of the gym.

“All right, Arlo, leave some weight for the rest of us. See you at practice, Hota.” Nate laughs and waves as he hurries toward the far side of the large room.

Arlo starts lifting before I’m in position. He reps three before I get there. Then two more. He pauses and takes a deep breath. It widens his chest. The wet fabric of his shirt kisses the sensitive skin of my forearm.

He should be heading for the rack, but he’s not. I know he’s going to try to show me up. His legs shake under the oppressive weight. The veins in his arms are popping like he’s a comic book character.

My fingertips tingle, waiting a millimeter away from his pecs in case he fails.

This will be the time he needs me. This will be the time I get to touch him again.

Arlo takes another deep breath and stands up the weight once more just to show me he can.

Disappointment marries my irritation in a rushed ceremony.

I grab the bar and help him rack it. He releases the bar to step away. I don’t move from behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” I rasp into his ear.

His jaw flexes. “I was just talking.” His face shifts closer to me only a hint. “What? I can’t talk to Nate?”

“You haven’t spoken to any other student in this school besides me.” I swallow, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of my voice. “You can do whatever you want to do with Nate.”

He dips low under the bar and turns to face me on the other side of it. Sweat clumps his light brown hair, making it look dark and ominous. Beads of it glisten across the bridge of his regal nose and above his kissable lips.

“You’re jealous?” Arlo breathes.

“No shit.” I shove away from the bar and begin stripping the weights from it.

“I’d never touch him.”

I shrug like I don’t care and toss another twenty-five-kilogram plate onto the weight rack, knowing full well I’d throw it through the wall if he touched Nate.

“You can, though,” Arlo whispers.

“So you’ve said.” I ignore him and finish clearing off the barbell while he stands there and watches me for too long. We used too many plates.

I reach for the bar to stow it too, but it doesn’t budge. My gaze flies up to see why. Eight knuckles are small mountains on the bar with white caps. Our eyes meet. There’s hope in his.

“You can touch him like you touched Miss Booth.”

“Back up, Kido!” Coach barks and pulls me away from the mat. “You’ve already won your rounds.”

He’s right. I’m hunched over, level with the current wrestlers tangled in a cradle attempt and the simple low defense against it. My hands and feet are moving like it’s my bout.

“Don’t get us disqualified,” Nate warns to my right, where he and the rest of our team cheer on our guy who’s seconds away from ending the match, two to zero.

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