Chapter 53: Hand in Hand
The walk from Noah’s truck to the south dorm felt longer than the highway they’d just left. Taichi’s palm was damp against Noah’s, a clammy secret in the searing heat of the open quad. He focused on the feel of Noah’s calluses, the steady pressure of his grip, using it as an anchor.
The campus was a postcard of Southern gentility in the late morning sun. Golden light filtered through the sprawling oaks, dappling the cobblestone paths. Students lounged on blankets, their laughter mingling with the distant, rhythmic thump of a soccer ball and the shrill tweets of a coach’s whistle. The air smelled of cut grass, coconut sunscreen, and the faint, cloying sweetness of magnolia blossoms.And of eyes.Taichi felt them. The weight of glances was a physical thing, a prickling heat on the back of his neck. A group of girls by the fountain fell silent as they passed, their conversation dying into curious stares. A lanky guy in a fraternity T-shirt did a deliberate double-take, his mouth a thin line. The whispers weren’t loud, but they were there—a hushed, rippling current beneath the campus hum. Is that…?Noah Callahan?Who’s the other guy?
Noah walked beside him, his stride easy, his face a mask of calm. But Taichi saw the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes, usually so open and welcoming, had gone flat and watchful.He was scanning the terrain, a cowboy assessing a new and unpredictable herd.
“Just keep walking,” Noah murmured, his voice low, meant only for Taichi. His thumb stroked the back of Taichi’s hand.“They’re just lookin’. Let ‘em look.”
Taichi tried to nod.His heart was a frantic bird in his ribs. This was it.The messy part.The part after the sunset promise in the truck. He swallowed hard, forcing his own mask into place—the polite, vacant smile he used with reporters after a bad game.They were halfway across the main quad when the path narrowed between two ancient oak trees. A figure stepped out from the shadow of the trunk, directly into their path, blocking the way.
It was Jed. A bull rider from Noah’s rodeo team, all broad shoulders and a sun-reddened neck, his hat pushed back on his head. His eyes, a pale, watery blue, flickered from their joined hands up to Noah’s face.His expression wasn’t angry. It was worse—confused and deeply disappointed.
“Noah,” Jed said, his voice a gravelly drawl.He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Heard y’all had a good weekend at the ranch.”
Noah didn’t break stride, forcing Jed to either stand his ground or step aside.He chose to stand his ground. Noah stopped, forcing Taichi to stop with him. The world shrunk to the three of them, the pleasant quad sounds fading into a muted roar.“We did,” Noah said evenly. His grip on Taichi’s hand tightened imperceptibly. “Need somethin’, Jed?”
Jed’s gaze landed squarely on Taichi now, a slow, deliberate appraisal that felt like being sized up at a livestock auction. “Just makin’ sure my eyes ain’t playin’ tricks on me.” He shifted his weight. “This don’t look right, man.”
Before the cold dread in Taichi’s stomach could solidify, a whirlwind of red curls and denim inserted itself between them. Delilah “Dee” Mae planted her boots squarely on the cobblestones, arms crossed over her chest, a sharp, challenging grin on her freckled face.
“Well, hey there, Jedediah,” she drawled, her voice sugary and sharp as broken glass. “Your eyes work just fine.What’s not workin’ is your manners. Y’all got a problem with my friends walkin’ to class?”
Jed flushed. “Dee, this ain’t your business.”
“The hell it ain’t.” Her grin didn’t waver. “You’re blockin’ a public path, harassin’ two students mindin’ their own. That makes it campus business. And since I’m a duly appointed ambassador of goodwill and also your fuckin’ teammate, it makes it my business.” She took a small step forward. Jed took an unconscious half-step back.“Now, you got somethin’ useful to say? Or you just gonna stand there lookin’ like a stump surprised by a chainsaw?”
The tension crackled. Taichi held his breath. He saw the conflict in Jed’s face—the ingrained loyalty to a teammate, the confusion, the peer pressure from unseen eyes watching from nearby benches.Jed’s jaw worked. He looked past Dee to Noah, searching his face for something—a wink, a sign this was a joke, a plea for help.He found only quiet certainty. Finally, Jed mumbled something unintelligible, tipped his hat, and sidestepped off the path, melting back toward the shadow of the oak.Dee turned to them, her performance-grade smile softening into something real.“Morning, gentlemen. Y’all need a convoy?”
Noah let out a breath Taichi hadn’t realized he was holding.A faint, genuine smile touched his lips. “Think you just provided one, Dee Mae. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” She fell into step beside Taichi, linking her arm through his free one.“You okay, soccer star?”
Taichi’s voice felt rusty. “Yeah.Thanks, Dee.”
“Pfft.Jed’s all hat and no cattle. His brain’s softer than week-old butter.” She squeezed his arm.“Ignore the gawkers. They’re bored. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened since the library plumbing exploded.”
They walked on, a trio now.The whispers seemed louder, but somehow less potent. Dee’s presence was a force field of nonchalant defiance. Noah’s hand in his was an unbreakable tether.As they neared the dorm, Noah slowed. “This is me,” Taichi said quietly, nodding toward the brick building.Noah didn’t let go. Instead, he turned to face him, right there in the open. He leaned in, and for a heart-stopping second, Taichi thought he was going to kiss him in front of everyone. Instead, Noah pressed his forehead gently against Taichi’s, a gesture so intimate it felt more vulnerable than any kiss.“Practice at four?” Noah asked, his voice low.
“Yeah,” Taichi breathed.
“I’ll be there.” Noah straightened, gave Dee a nod, and turned, walking away with that easy, rolling gait, not looking back at the stares that followed him.
Taichi watched him go until Dee nudged him.“C’mon,” she said softly. “Let’s get you inside before you spontaneously combust.”
He followed her up the steps, the fragile courage he’d felt in the truck still holding, tested and dented, but miraculously, unbroken. The quad, for all its whispering beauty, felt less like a battlefield now and more like just a place.A place he could walk through. Maybe not easily, but he could walk through it. The memory of Noah’s forehead against his, a silent promise in the noisy sunlight, was a shield stronger than any silence.