13. Cj #4
Across the table, Mason laughed at something Luis said, ducking his head when Luis bumped his knee against his again. CJ watched the easy familiarity of it and wondered how long it had taken Mason to be comfortable with that kind of closeness. Or if he’d ever had to think about it at all.
Rizzo elbowed him and leaned close, his voice loud and insistent in CJ’s ear. “Hartman,” he said. “You with us, or are you having an existential crisis?”
CJ blinked, then shook his head with a smile. “Both things can be true at once.”
Rizzo studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly like he was trying to read the thoughts CJ hadn’t said aloud. Then the look broke, and a grin spread across his face.
“Atta boy, Hartman,” he said, quieter this time.
He dropped a heavy hand onto CJ’s shoulder and gave it the kind of squeeze that was followed by a small shake. The contact lingered longer than it needed to, and CJ got the feeling Rizzo somehow knew where his head had been, even if he couldn’t have said how.
“Atta boy,” Rizzo repeated.
CJ lifted his beer in a small salute and drank.
For once, he didn’t feel the urge to pull back or smooth his reactions into something less noticeable.
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with this new understanding, or how much of it he could afford to carry with him from now on.
But sitting there, surrounded by the easy laughter and unguarded closeness of his teammates, CJ let himself consider the possibility that things didn’t always have to be so careful.
The crowd thinned out in stages as the hours passed, and the night wound down earlier than CJ expected. The music stayed loud, but the spaces between people widened, and people stopped shouting across tables and started leaning in instead.
CJ was halfway through his last beer when his ankle made itself known again with an insistent throb that he didn’t feel until he’d stopped moving. Now that he’d been sitting long enough for it to settle, the pain seemed to sharpen with every movement.
He shifted in his chair and rotated his foot carefully under the table, testing the joint.
A sharp spike of pain was the immediate answer, and CJ winced at the reminder of why he’d planned on staying in that night in the first place.
Unless it miraculously healed tomorrow, there was no way he was avoiding a visit to the training staff before the next game.
He rotated his foot under the table again, testing it one last time.
What had been a dull ache pulsed steadily, just enough to demand attention without causing real alarm, and CJ hoped the day off would be enough.
Eventually, the group drifted toward the door, goodbyes shouted over shoulders as chairs scraped against the floor.
Outside, the night air had cooled just enough to be refreshing and the sidewalks were quieter with fewer people hanging about.
He lingered near the curb with the others, leaning slightly against the yellow wall while rideshares blinked in and out of the traffic.
Rizzo sidled up beside CJ, close enough to brush shoulders, casual as ever. “You good?” he asked. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp.
CJ lifted the water bottle someone had shoved into his hand at some point during the night. The cool plastic crinkled faintly as he twisted the cap and took a long drink instead of answering. He swallowed, then took another as the silence stretched.
Rizzo squinted at him. “Not gonna answer?”
“That was an answer,” CJ said. “Just not the one you were looking for.”
Rizzo studied him for half a second before he broke into a grin, bright and unbothered. “Fair enough.”
CJ huffed out a quiet laugh despite himself.
The sound faded quickly and his eyes drifted back to the curb just as Mason and Luis stepped away from the group.
Luis said something low that CJ couldn’t quite catch, his voice lost to a passing car.
As he turned to leave, Luis’s fingers caught Mason’s wrist for a brief second before letting go.
It was a casual gesture, but Mason’s hand lingered in the air afterward like he didn’t quite know where to put it.
Luis headed toward the corner, already pulling out his phone.
Mason stayed where he was for a second longer before turning in the opposite direction.
No one else seemed to notice.
A car pulled up, headlights washing over what was left of their group, and Rizzo clapped him once on the back before heading toward it. “Later, Hartman.”
CJ nodded and pulled out his phone to order his own ride. “Get home safe, man.”
Rizzo grinned, sharp and predatory. “Oh, I’m not going home.”
CJ snorted. “Of course you’re not.”
Rizzo’s laughter disappeared as he closed the car door and the street grew quiet again. CJ waited for his ride, the lingering noise of the night fading around him, and for the first time in a long while, the quiet didn’t feel heavy.
His ride pulled up, and he pushed away from the wall to walk toward the car. And if he favored his ankle slightly, he would just add it to the list of things no one else needed to know about.