Page 11 of My Orc in Uniform

I, on the other hand, was probably blushing bright red. “H-Hello. What are you—I mean, I’m glad you got to come to one of the games.”

Nodding, he leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees, his attention on the court as the teams jogged back into position. “The first quarter was a good game. Are they all this exciting?”

“No,” I had to admit with a little chuckle. “Our team is pretty good, but we play all the smallest schools, so the Hogs often cream the other team.”

He tipped his head slightly so he could shoot me a grin. “That makes sense.” His attention slid back to the game as play began. “Then I’m glad this was my first Warthog”—he paused to do the “hog tusks” with his clawed fingers, which looked funny against his real tusks—”experience, against a good team. The…Beavers?”

Somehow, it was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t actually looking at me. I felt my muscles relaxing. “The Beaverton High Hairy Beavers.” I winced as I said it. “I don’t think they really thought that one through.”

“I’ll say. Their coach seems like he might need to chill out. Look at how red he’s turning.”

From this distance, it was impossible to tell what the other coach was yelling, but without thinking, I droppedmy voice in what might be an imitation of the man. “Come on, Hairy Beavers! Move your tails!”

A laugh burst out of Simbel, and I flushed with pleasure when I saw how the smile didn’t leave his face, even as his gaze darted around the court. “Yeah, get thedamball!”

I snorted into my soda, which caused him to chuckle again and offer to get me some napkins. Waving away the offer, I settled my weight again, feeling surprisingly at ease. Simbel made me laugh, and I was tickled I’d madehimlaugh.

As he continued to offer little observations of the game or the players—each one making me chuckle or snort or roll my eyes—I snuck glances at him.

He was still wearing his uniform, and I’ll admit; I was a sucker for howcrisphe always looked. There were creases in his trousers, for fuck’s sake, and he looked damn good with that shirt stretched across his chest. His booted heels rested on the bleacher seat in front of us, and he leaned forward to support his weight across his knees…which pulled the uniform tight across his butt, and yeah, I liked that too.

As our players lined up for a free throw, he suddenly glanced at me and caught me admiring his butt. I kinda expected him to smirk or wink or something, and I was preparing to blush like a tomato. But he did the gentlemanly thing and ignored it.

“Hey, can I ask a question? About this place?”

I blinked, pushed off track. “Yeah, of course.”

“Eastshore Isle Upper SchoolWarthogs? The tusks? Did you change the name within the last year because orcs have tusks? Wait, is there aporkthe orcjoke in here I’m missing?”

Slowly, I relaxed again. “No, that’s what we callirony. We’ve been the Hogs for two decades, named after the wild boars that came ashore from Spanish shipwrecks centuries ago, and now live feral in the swamps. Theydohave nasty tusks, but that was just coincidental when the orcs and others began to make their—your—home here.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Simbel braced his one large hand on the bench behind us and leaned back. It was the hand closer to me, which meant he leaned closer, and I swear I couldsmellhim, which shouldn’t be possible. I mean, I’m not talking laundry detergent or deodorant, but a soft sort of musk I didn’t recognize.

“So I guess it was kinda like fate we ended up here,” he mused. “Everyone’s been really welcoming.”

I realized I was leaning toward him,sniffing, and I hurried to straighten. “Uh—yeah. Honestly, having y’all show up really helped our town. It’s been great to see so many new faces.”

“Newkindsof faces?” He seemed unusually serious, as if he wasn’t sure of my answer.

So I hurried to nod. “There were a few people who didn’t like the idea of sharing the island with monsters, but they’ve mostly left, or keep their mouth shut.”

“I got an earful about that one guy—Jeff-somebody-or-other, who ran against Sakkara for mayor.”

“Oh yeah,” I snorted. “Geoffrey A. Harrison—theAstands forAsshole—thinks he’s God’s gift to…well, to everyone. Still pissed that his Daddy’s money couldn’t win the election, no matter how much prejudicial crap he spewed.”

Simbel’s brows rose, and I could swear there wasadmirationin his eyes. “Seems like you don’t buy his crap?”

“He’s a jerk. A rich jerk, but a jerk who tried to convince his followers that we didn’t need orcs to save Eastshore. I’m glad he lost, because the rest of us like you very much. I mean—”Fuck, you idiot!—“Uh, I mean, we think you’re cool—I mean—gah,” I groaned, and gave up, dropping my face into my hands.

He chuckled—but lightly, like he wasn’t actually laughingatme—and shifted his weight so he could rest his palm against my back. It was only there a moment, a comforting sort of touch, before he moved it again, drawing his arm back around to rest on his knee once more.

But as soon as he’d touched me, I’d had to resist the urge to melt against him. And when he moved, I shivered, not liking the sudden cold against my back.

What the hell, Rissa?

Yeah, what the hell, subconscious?

“For what it’s worth,” he was saying, attention on the game, “we really like it here. I know I do. I liked Staten Island a lot, don’t get me wrong—always something to do. But here, people actuallycare. They don’t stare at the orc in uniform like I’m going to eat them. Some kinda freak.”

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