Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Marissa
“ Goooooo Warthogs!” yelled the cheerleading squad from center court as three of the girls did backflips and the rest waved pompoms and screamed. All of us in the bleachers did the “hog tusks” sign with our forefingers against our lower lips and cheered right along.
The cheerleaders’ signature music started, a fast-paced hip-hop number, and they all began the choreographed dance moves that were going to send them to State. On the sidelines, Kelly boogied along with them.
I shoved my straw between my lips and gulped down the lemon-lime soda, even as I turned away.
You don’t have any right to be jealous of her. So what if she’s hot and confident? So what if she’s not boring? So what if she ends up dating Simbel, just like she said she would? You turned him down .
Oh yeah, thanks, subconscious. That makes me feel much better.
My gaze sought out the group of teen boys up at the top of the bleachers. Patrick’s head was thrown back, and he was laughing along with his friends and one of the guys who was mimicking the cheerleaders’ dance moves.
I narrowed my eyes. Was that Hank? If so, he did have some pretty good moves. Maybe I should mention to Kelly she ought to recruit him.
No, you’re in a snit about Kelly, remember ?
Oh yeah, the infantile jealousy snit. I sighed.
Patrick looked so happy , and that made me happy. My little baby bear, my partner for so long…was growing up. He was becoming a really cool young man, and I had to trust him to make good decisions.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t do what I could to keep the bad influences away from him.
As I watched, Jaxon passed around an order of nachos, and Patrick took a few, saying something to his friend. And as Hank lost his balance in a particularly exuberant move, Brian and Ethan lunged to grab him. Huh. They didn’t look like bad influences. They looked like a normal friend group…
A normal friend group who committed acts of petty vandalism when they got bored.
Maybe the secret is to keep them from getting bored.
Sipping thoughtfully, I turned back around to face the court as the cheerleading performance was ending—and nearly screeched as Simbel slid onto the bleacher beside me. As it was, my straw popped from my mouth, and I sprayed him with soda.
“Hi, Rissa.” He was smiling and didn’t seem to notice my gaffe.
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 dropped my 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 the dam ball!”
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 made him laugh.
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 how crisp he 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 School Warthogs ? The tusks? Did you change the name within the last year because orcs have tusks? Wait, is there a pork the orc joke in here I’m missing?”
Slowly, I relaxed again. “No, that’s what we call irony . 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. They do have 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 could smell him, 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.”
“New kinds of 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—the A stands for Asshole —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 was admiration in 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 laughing at me—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 actually care . They don’t stare at the orc in uniform like I’m going to eat them. Some kinda freak. ”
Unable to help myself, and my attention hopelessly caught by Simbel, I blurted a repeat of his joke from Monday: “That was my nickname in college.”
He swung an incredulous gaze my way, then burst into laughter again. “Some kinda freak?” he asked, shaking his head between chuckles. “I guess that’s better than Going to eat them. ”
“Yeah.” I offered a small smile. “That would be an awkward nickname.”
“Truth. It was bad enough going through the academy with a name like Simbel Smith.” He settled back into his resting pose, his eyes following the ball around the court, although since he was still speaking to me, I wasn’t sure if he was paying full attention. “The Smith part is a government formality that I was able to finally talk them into dropping.”
“So…” I’ll admit that I was just bursting with questions, and now I had a chance to ask them. “Simbel is a first and last name? Like Madonna or Cher?
He shrugged. “Our clan was never more than a few hundred males, and far fewer females. We rarely traveled any distance, so we only needed one name. When we came through the veil and approached your media, we knew it meant we couldn’t go home, and thus it was time for us to choose new names anyhow. The scientists gave us these names.”
I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I was acting on instinct. I reached out and placed my fingertips on his corded forearm. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, thinking only to comfort him, the way I might comfort Joleen or Patrick .
Yeah, Rissa, tell yourself that .
He’d stiffened, and now his gaze was locked straight ahead. I saw a muscle in his jaw jump. Uh-oh, had I offended him by touching him? I slowly pulled my hand away from his warm green skin.
The thick column of his throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he smiled. It was obviously forced. “Thanks.” He shook himself, then focused on the game once more. Or maybe he was only pretending to focus on it. “The scientists thought Sakkara’s name sounded like one of your ancient Egyptian archaeological sites, so they gave us similar names. I’m actually Abu Simbel, after the twin temples, and my twin brother is Memnon, after the paired colossi.”
That was interesting enough to distract me from the awkward-touching incident. “What were your names before?”
And so we chatted through the last three quarters of the game, me learning all about the orcs’ world and Simbel’s experiences in the last decade in New York. He asked me a lot about Eastshore, but didn’t touch too much on my personal life, which I appreciated. I mean, it’s not like my failed relationship with Patrick’s dad was a secret, but it was so long ago, it didn’t seem relevant. And it was easier to talk about the town we both loved, and the people we both knew.
It helped that I didn’t try to touch him again. And that he laughed at all my jokes, even the weak ones. I kinda loved his smile, honestly. I loved how easygoing he was, and I loved how he kept smiling after he was done laughing .
Making him laugh made me feel…I dunno, accomplished ? Because he was making me laugh every other minute.
Before I knew it, the whistle was blowing, and Simbel straightened. “Ninety-nine to 103! That was a hell of a game!”
“It was,” I admitted, although I’d seen little of it. “Go Warthogs!”
“Yeah.” He shot me a smirk. “Cream those beavers.”
Oh my God , that was horrible. It was beyond what H.R. should deal with. But that didn’t stop a surprised bark of laughter to burst from my lips. Without thinking, I leaned sideways and dug my shoulder into his bicep. “Sense of humor of a teenage boy. Ask me how I know.”
“Hey, you laughed,” he pointed out, while chuckling himself. And I was still snickering as I tipped my head back to watch him stand.
Around us, spectators were packing up. The teams were doing their post-game handshake, the cheerleaders were wrapping up their moves, and I really needed to meet Patrick by the car.
But I couldn’t stop staring up at Simbel.
Still grinning, he offered me his hand, and I took it, allowing him to lift me to my feet. In that moment, I felt light as a feather, as if he could lift me straight up to the sky…and I’d let him.
We stood like that for a moment, my hand in his, my head tipped back, our smiles slowly fading.
Finally, he said in a low voice, “I had fun tonight. ”
“You know what?” I replied without thinking it through. “I did too. I really did.” How long had it been since I’d had fun ? Being with Simbel tonight had been anything but boring.
He glanced down at our hands, and I felt his thumb rubbing against my knuckle. I couldn’t seem to look away from his dark gaze. His eyes, which I thought had always been black, each had a speck of green deep in the center.
Warmth crept up my arm, and suddenly I felt a million miles high in these bleachers. I tightened my hold on his fingers, and he closed his other hand around mine, as if he were anchoring me in place.
“Would you like…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I know you said you didn’t want to have dinner with me, but do you think we could hang out again? Like, just going for a walk after work or something?”
“I thought you were going to work out with Kelly?”
I dunno why I blurted it. I shouldn’t have. Probably I only did it because I panicked. After all, the hottie in uniform I’d been lusting after for ages just asked me out again!
Simbel blinked in what I thought was confusion. “Kelly? Oh, yeah, she did invite me to work out with her. Um…” He winced slightly and shifted his weight. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Rissa, but don’t you think she’s a little…I dunno, young? And silly?” He shook his head. “I’m not trying to insult her, but…” His grin turned lopsided. “She’s really not my type. ”
My heart, which had been thundering against my ribcage until he began to speak, now stood frozen. I took a deep breath, and when it started up again, it was much calmer. I felt much calmer.
Obviously this is artistic license. If my heart really did freeze, I’d be telling you this story from a hospital bed. But the point is, my chest relaxed and relief seeped through my limbs. He was asking me on a walk?
My lips slowly curled. “I think…I would like that,” I offered shyly. A walk seemed nice and simple. Not a commitment. Not a date.
He blew out a breath, as if he’d been hanging on my reply. “Great. Awesome.” His smile suddenly bloomed, and I could see genuine pleasure in his expression, which is a hell of a confidence boost, let me tell you. “Do you think I—uh…could I get your number? Or maybe I could give you mine, so you don’t feel weird about me having a way to contact you? That way the ball’s in your court?”
I glanced sideways, at the real court spread before us, and I heard him snort, as he realized what he’d said. “You know what I mean.”
I did. I did know what he meant, and that was really…cool. Strange? For so long, I’d been one hundred percent focused on raising Patrick that it was wild to think there was another male out there who I could understand so well.
You had fun with him too .
True .
Without freeing his hand, I fumbled for my phone in my bag. “Give me your number.”
I felt wild. Crazy. Different. Fun .