Page 46 of Outdrawn

Her jaw tightened, but she still answered. “A few weeks.”

“New pain or old?”

“A little of both.” She wiggled in her seat.

I repositioned our hands, placing my palm on the back of her hand so it stretched the opposite way. “How often do you take breaks?”

Noah spent most of her time-crunched over her desk, back curled like a shrimp. She gripped her pencil like the handlebars of a bike she was learning to ride.

She frowned at my question. “Enough.”

“What’s enough look like?” I wondered, and when she was silent for a moment I added, “People like you should break often, stretching every hour.”

“People like me?” Noah pressed her lips in a fine line, and I was surprised she didn’t snatch her hand back.

“Yeah, people who have injuries due to repetitive motion,” I said. “People like you.”

“It’s not an injury. It’s…just a little sore.”

“Denial never does anyone any favors.” I stopped stretching her and moved to massage her palm with both hands, kneading her muscles. Touching her was like diving into a warm pool, the heat soothing yet close to being unbearable. I wanted more, but I wasn’t confident I'd be able to handle more. That I was worthy of more.

“I’m not in denial…” She sighed, closing her eyes for a second; I must have hit an especially tight spot. I smiled at a rare moment of relaxation on her face. She looked good angry but even better calm. I’d been going about this relationship all wrong. I should have been trying to get her to look like this from the get-go.

“You are in denial, and it’s because you’re trying to keep up with me.” Her eyes flashed open, and she scowled. “You’ll never beat me if you keep trying to mimic my style. My work ethic isn’t a one-size fits all. Stop trying to keep up.”

“I’m not…” She paused when I raised my brow.

“You stay as late as me. You don’t go to the break room or pond anymore. You’re trying to keep up with me.”

“I'm not trying to keep up, I am keeping up, and I am going to beat you,” she said under her breath. The threat should be sharp. I could tell she wanted it to be, but when my fingers pressed deeply into her muscle tissue, she softened.

“Not with your shrimp back.” I laughed at her gasp. “Not with these strained hands. I’ve given up a lot for that number one spot. I won't let it go easily."

The space between her brows wrinkled at my change of tone. The skin contact made me feel closer to her — which was a big reason why I should have stopped touching her. I didn’t, though. I reached for her other hand and restarted the routine as I continued talking.

“And I don’t have messed up wrists. So I’m more than well-equipped to fend you off,” I promised. “You, kraken, and whoever else wants to take that prize from me.”

“Then why are you giving me a massage and advice that could help me get better? A real opponent would make sure I get more Leisah work on my desk, tire me out so I’ll be exhausted when it comes time to draw for Inkmic.”

She was right, and that would have been my plan a few weeks ago. Hell, maybe it would have been my plan this morning, but I couldn’t do that to her. All morning, she’d been hunched over her desk in pain. Noah had been editing and re-editing stories, fixing subplots and apparently writing down jokes for future use.

“I’m not going to sabotage you,” I said while looking down at her fingers. Her hand looked nice in mine—protected. I twisted my mouth to the side at that thought, at the slowly growing need to be that for her. The longing engulfed me, unwilling to let me go no matter how much I tried to pull away. I couldn't be a protector for anyone anymore. I was far too out of practice and out of strength.

“You heard Tyson. We’re…” I needed to pull away, go back to my side of the cubicle and shut the hell up. Ignore whatever feeling this was in exchange for the loneliness I’d grown accustomed to. Lonely was safe, after all. I couldn’t screw that up.

“What?” Noah asked. “Stronger together?”

I let go of her hand, the sudden release surprised us both. Noah rubbed her palm gently, almost like she was trying to replace the warmth my fingers had provided.

“Don’t you think?” I was surprised at how much I wanted to know the answer, needed it.

Noah shrugged and looked around the office like she needed an escape. I'd overstayed my welcome. I inwardly cringed at how close I’d gotten; I’d been massaging her hands, for goodness sake. Right as I was about to move back toward my desk, though, Noah spoke.

“I always thought that if we put our heads together, we’d make something good.”

My smile grew uncontrollably wide. “How long have you been thinking that?”

She shook her head, a warm warning in her eyes. “Not long.”

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