13. Tentative Truce
Chapter thirteen
Tentative Truce
Cya
Cya shouldn’t have been here; they knew that, but they simply couldn’t bring themself to leave. Not before they talked to Dex. Not before they actually apologized to him for the truly horrendous things they’d said to him. The guilt was eating them up inside, and they could ignore it no longer.
Like the coward Dex had accurately accused them of being, they’d fled the moment their humiliating meltdown had passed. They’d been unable to face the Lupyn or the consequences of not only their argument, but the shared vulnerability as well. Or the questions he must have.
About Niki. About Kent. About Cya and the slurs Niki had hurled at them.
So to avoid further embarrassment and shame, they’d run away. They were well-practiced at it; it was what they were best at, after all.
Hemersyn had been waiting for them at the curb, and though they knew they didn’t deserve it, they were so grateful he’d come. Cya had shocked them both when they’d rushed right up to him and wordlessly thrown themself into his startled arms.
“Cya, what’s happened?” he’d squawked, taloned hands patting along their back and sides as if he was searching for injuries. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, don’t be mad at me anymore,” they’d begged, and Hemersyn had cradled the back of their head so gently. “I want to go home. Please, take me home.”
Instead of taking the back seat, Cya had allowed Hemersyn to help them into the passenger seat.
As Hemersyn drove them home, they’d wanted to reach out and take his hand, but they’d been unable to cross the distance.
After he’d parked in the garage and shut down the engine, they’d opened their door but didn’t immediately depart.
“I meant what I said. I am sorry,” they’d whispered, unable to meet the Avia’s gaze. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
A low, melodic coo warbled in Hemersyn’s throat as the tips of his talons grazed over their shoulder. “I’ll always be here when you need me, my dear. Always.”
It was too much. After everything they’d endured on this cursed day, they couldn’t handle one more emotional gut-punch. So they’d simply nodded in acknowledgment before they slid out of the car.
That night, they’d slept poorly, trapped inside that in-between state of asleep and awake.
Half-conscious, they’d periodically check their phone, hoping to see a message from Dex, but their notifications would be empty.
For the best, they reasoned as they watched the digital numbers on their phone creep toward five A.M. He was better off without them; it was good they’d finally driven him off.
It should have been a relief, but all they felt was empty.
Try as they might, they couldn’t muster the energy to get out of bed, so they’d called out of work, claiming illness. Sometime around six in the morning, they finally tumbled into blissful unconsciousness, sleeping late into the day.
The only reason they even got out of bed at all was because the single thing Dex had asked of them was to return his sweatshirt, and after everything they’d put him through, they wanted to honor his request.
They arrived on campus earlier than necessary so they could hopefully catch him after his dyscus practice.
They didn’t know his course schedule, but he always practiced after work before attending evening classes.
Retracing their path from the night before, they found the dycus training field and hovered near the end of the bleachers as they watched the team practice.
Half the team wore shirts and played defense, while the offensive side were shirtless, even the girls.
A muscular Nyko in tight shorts and a sports bra raced down the field, dipping and dodging around the bigger defensive players, even dropping to all fours at times to wriggle through tighter spaces. Her agility was impressive.
Sprinting parallel to her was Dex, golden fur dark from sweat, face set with determination.
He didn’t have the Nyko’s nimbleness, but he was solid and didn’t flinch away from shoulder-checking anyone who tried to block him.
And he was surprisingly fast, clawed toes digging into the earth for traction.
Bodies collided with deafening smacks. Elbows jabbed and shoulders cracked into bone and muscle.
Dex wove through his defensive teammates, light-footed and swift, and when the dysc soared too high over his head to catch, he dropped to all fours without breaking his stride, then launched himself into the air.
Against the laws of gravity, he caught the dysc and landed hard on the other side of the goal line.
The other shirtless teammates roared in triumph, and Dex quickly disappeared under numerous bodies as they dog-piled on top of him in celebration. Even the Nyko joined in, jumping onto the pile of writhing bodies currently smothering Dex.
It was all so strange, but Cya couldn’t stop their smile as Dex finally crawled out of the mass of teammates, covered in grass and dirt.
The Nyko launched herself onto his back, and he hiked her up and over his shoulder like he had Cya last night.
They grappled and laughed with each other, and the oddest stab of envy poked at Cya’s chest.
As the team headed their way toward the locker rooms, nerves cramped their stomach, and they shifted farther away from the wall to make themself more visible. They tracked Dex’s approach as he bent down and retrieved his shirt, slapping it over his shoulder without putting it on.
The fur of his chest was an even lighter shade of cream than the rest of him and groomed quite short. All of his fur was on the shorter side, actually. At least, compared to, say, Rusty, who wore his fur long and shaggy.
Cya had never noticed the difference before, but with so much of Dex’s body currently on display, they couldn’t not notice. Even the cut of his strong muscles was distinguishable through the hairs, and unholy shit, did he have actual abs?
“Well, that’s just uncalled for,” they muttered as heat bubbled in their cheeks.
It wasn’t like they’d never acknowledged that Dex was objectively attractive; they weren’t blind! But this? With the sweat-darkened fur plastered to his skin and the showcase of broad shoulders and the rippling biceps and—yes, those were definitely ab muscles. Clearly defined abdominals.
“Entirely unnecessary,” they griped to no one.
Of course, he had to go and dump his bottle water onto his head, drenching himself further, which was honestly just offensive at this point. Laughing, Dex leaned over and shook his head, showering the Nyko with water droplets, and she yowled and swatted him away.
He was so distracted with her that he nearly walked right past Cya without seeing them at all. Which, no, did not hurt their ego in the slightest, thank you very much!
The Nyko actually saw them first, and she smacked Dex’s arm, whispering something in a Mammylion dialect Cya didn’t understand.
Dex must have, though, because he looked at her, then followed her pointing hand to Cya.
He nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock, but he caught his balance at the last minute.
“Cya? What are you doing here?”
Well, now that they were here, and he was here—and he was shirtless and wet and shirtless—they were asking themself the same question. They’d never regretted choosing to be the bigger and better person more than they did right now at this exact moment.
“I—” they started, but Dex turned away from them to address the Nyko.
“I’ll catch up with you.”
Giving Cya a judgmental, unimpressed onceover, the Nyko tongued at a sharp canine, thin tail serpentining behind her body. “You sure about this?”
“Lynd, would you just…”
Dex shooed her away, and she went but not before curling her upper lip at Cya, like they were the one currently stinking up the corridor with their sweat. They shook their rattle, just enough to acknowledge her disrespect, but before they could flash a fang, a hand was waving in their face.
“Hey, cut it out,” Dex barked, and Cya reared back.
“Me cut it out? What about her? Did you see the way she looked at me?”
His eyes followed the Nyko out of sight before they returned to Cya. “Well, she isn’t your biggest fan, right now.”
“Why not? I don’t even know her.”
“She knows we argued,” he said simply, and Cya’s temper sparked.
“You told her?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Nostrils flaring, they leaned in, dropping their voice to waspish whisper. “But that was private!”
“Private?” the Lupyn echoed in disbelief. “Like how it was private when you called me a parasite in the middle of campus in front of, like, so many witnesses?”
The flames of their temper snuffed out instantly, and they deflated, hugging Dex’s sweatshirt to their chest like a shield. In response, Dex softened too, releasing a weary huff.
“I didn’t tell her what we argued about or that you, you know, cried.” He whispered the last word, but they still flinched. “But she saw I was bummed when I got to practice and asked what was wrong, so I told her.”
“Why didn’t you just lie?”
“Because, unlike some people, I’m not a pathological liar.”
“I’m not a—”
“So you are sick?” he asked pointedly, and they hissed at him through clenched teeth.
Instead of being intimidated, he snorted.
“Listen, I told my friend the truth because she wanted to support me in my time of need, and I’m trying to take care of Dex first. Because if my cup is empty, I can’t spill onto other people. ”
Sometimes, Cya wished they had a Dex-to-Hellia translation device. “What the fuck are you even saying?”
“You know what? If you just came here to yell at me some more, then have fun shouting at a wall.” He pointed to the wall beside him. “’Cause I’m officially out.”
“I didn’t come to yell at you,” they snapped as Dex brushed past them.
Walking backward, he splayed his hands. “Then why are you here?”
“I came to apologize!” they cried in frustration, and he stopped.