Page 89 of Citius

After counting to ten, I exhaled slowly. Cal followed my pace, nice and even, but Alijah’s breath sputtered out halfway through. It took three more rounds of deep breathing before the tension in his body began to ease.

“Nice job,” I said. “Can you do two more things with your body besides breathing?”

Alijah grimaced. His distaste for the exercise was plain as day. He extended one foot and gave it a reluctant shake. Then, his unsteady fingers slid down my forearm and wrapped around my gloved palm.

When I made no move to pull away, his grip tightened as if trying to meld our hands together.

“So embarrassing,” he muttered under his breath.

“But it helped?”

His head tipped back with a frustrated whimper, and he leaned more of his weight against me. “Yeah. But I still need to find the card.”

“About that.”

Owen emerged from the shadows, bone dry, still holding my umbrella. How useful—forhim. And then he had the audacity to look down his nose at our dripping wet forms, one shapely black brow arched in dismay.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for.” Owen held up a small plastic case containing a blue SD card.

Alijah darted forward, taking it between his trembling fingers. His initials were neatly written on the corner of the label. “What—how?”

Owen smoothed his already flat lapel. “A student saw it fall out of your bag and turned it in at the ticket counter.”

“I texted him about the card,” Cal said, sliding into the space Alijah had just vacated, standing too close to be casual.

“And I utilized logic,” Owen added, glancing disparagingly at the puddles we’d left along the cement floor. “Rather than needlessly face the elements.”

“Hey,” Alijah countered, with a surprising—and frankly relieving—amount of fire. “I was retracing my steps. That’s logical!”

“I suppose,” Owen replied dryly, his piercing gaze shifting to me. My decision-making skills were clearly the ones in question.

But I didn’t care. I’d run into the rain for any friend or familymember’s well-being—but not for Owen. He could drown in a vat of his own disapproval, for all I cared.

My phone vibrated in my coat pocket. Cal shifted closer, not so subtly peering over my shoulder at Christine’s message.

Running late. Does six-thirty work?

Cal tapped his fingers against the wall, his pinky brushing against my coat as I typed out an affirmative reply. Did he have the wrong idea about my dinner with Christine—did Iwanthim to have the wrong idea?

I hit send and looked up, ready to excuse myself, only to find Alijah and Owen were both watching me. A glance at Cal confirmed he was, too.

“Plans?” he asked, sounding surprisingly amiable.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, so—”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Alijah blurted out, clutching the SD card to his chest. His brows furrowed as he struggled to breathe again. “You were supposed to go have fun, and instead, you got caught up in this mess, and now you’re all wet, and I’ve ruined your night.”

“It’s just dinner with a friend. She’s coming from her shift at the hospital, so it’s not like we’re entering a beauty contest.” I stepped forward, gently forcing him to meet my gaze, and offered a soft smile. “You might catch the tail end of the press conference if you hurry.”

Alijah’s expression shifted into sober dread as realization struck. He was still on the clock and missing key post-game activities.

“O-oh, I need to go. Yes. Need to go.”

He turned, only managing a few steps before doubling back, moving so fast he needed to plant a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“Thank you—so much.” He flashed a heart-achingly sweet smile at me before nodding at the other two. “All of you. I can’t— Talk later. Gotta go.”

Alijah took off like a shot, trailed by the echo of Cal’s mellow laugh.

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