Chapter 2
Shaw didn't let go when the train started moving, though his grip loosened a little.
Reese stood close, almost toe-to-toe with Shaw, a lady's handbag poking him in the back.
He placed his hands on either side of Shaw's waist gingerly each time the train accelerated, not wanting to rely on Shaw's strength alone, and it was weird feeling Shaw's muscles moving under his shirt.
He was used to Shaw's body—they helped each other stretch all the time—but it was weird in this setting, and Reese nearly blushed whenever he felt Shaw's abs clenching in preparation for the train changing speed.
The press of bodies got to a breaking point two stops on, reducing them to human sardines, and Shaw adjusted by placing one heavy arm around Reese's shoulders.
"This is embarrassing," Reese complained.
"Then don't get pulled along, idiot.
Do you want me to let go?"
Reese shook his head mutely, which Shaw had to feel because Reese's face was basically smushed into his chest.
Reese glanced up at the handlebars longingly; he could reach them, sure, but could he steady himself with all these people here, and keep from falling onto the people seated?
He wasn't sure, and he didn't complain again.
Shaw smelled like sweat and masculine deodorant; Reese thought that if he smelled like Air Salonpas too he'd smell absolutely perfect, and then he berated himself for thinking that.
It was sort of nice, though, being this close to Shaw without being yelled at.
Reese's head quieted.
All day his heart had been hammering, first because he was going to see the Heliosian national team play and then because he was watching the match and then because he'd just watched it.
It had been one of the best days of his life, and standing here with Shaw in a crowded train felt oddly fitting at the end of a day like he'd had.
"It's the next one," Shaw said, and Reese felt the rumble in his chest.
Reese looked up—and Shaw glanced away quickly.
"Come on."
Shaw dragged him towards the exit, moving people aside—or perhaps people moved aside for him.
Whatever happened, Reese was able to duck behind Shaw and get out of the train without any more mishaps.
Some of his generated body heat left him as he stepped out onto the platform beside Shaw, and he felt almost bereft.
It had been nice standing like that, and Reese wondered if the next train could possibly be as crowded as the last; he hoped it would be.
The others caught up with them twenty minutes later, and Ware twisted his knuckles against Reese's scalp as he berated him.
Reese apologized profusely, but deep down he was glad he'd caught the earlier train.
* * *
The train ride marked a change more so than the bus ride had.
Somehow, Reese was always finding reasons to stand or sit closer than he needed to, and Shaw was always letting him, never yelling or scolding.
In fact, Shaw was about a hundred times quieter whenever Reese did it; he barely even spoke when their bodies were pressed casual-close, shoulders or arms or hands touching.
Proximity was like a mute button, one Reese liked to press.
He wasn't sure what was going on.
"Do you like Shaw?" Ware asked one day when they were practicing dives after practice; they had the whole gym to themselves.
Reese blinked.
"...
no?" he said, heaping question upon question into the tiny syllable.
Like
was too easy a word for someone who was both his rival and the person who made him feel most alive.
Objectively, though, Shaw was a jerk, always accidentally scaring or offending people.
Reese couldn't say he approved of him in a general sense off the volleyball court.
"What?" Ware said, sounding surprised.
"Not at all?"
"He has a dirty mouth, and he's always yelling at me."
"Yeah, but—you spend all your time together!"
"Well, I like spending
time
with him.
It's always really fun when we're together.
But no matter how you look at it he has bad social skills, right?"
Ware laughed, seeming to forget his purpose as he crowed, "He does!
He definitely does!" He wiped his eyes once he stopped laughing, then leveled Reese with an intent stare.
"But I thought you liked him," he said.
"You're always standing next to each other, and sometimes it seems like you're about to hold hands."
"Oh!" It was the closeness thing confusing Ware, then.
"He smells really good, and when I stand really close he always goes still and doesn't say much so he never gets angry at me."
Ware slapped a hand to his forehead.
"Reese!
You're saying you do it to shut him up?"
"Well, a little." Reese peered at Ware's incredulous expression, wondering why it made guilt prickle at the back of his neck.
"But it's nice too!"
"Nice like what?
Like standing next to a pretty girl?"
Reese screwed up his face.
Shaw was about as far from a pretty girl as it got.
"I don't think so."
Ware sighed.
"Okay then.
But you should probably talk to him about it at some point."
Reese nodded, though privately he was confused by the idea.
He didn't know what there was to talk about, or how to approach it, or why it would ever come up.