Darcy and Micah sat shoulder to shoulder on a sofa near the edge of the room. Around them, the air buzzed with noise, teammates talking, chairs scraping, the occasional shout of excitement from the crowd outside.
But for the two of them, it might as well have been silent.
Neither spoke.
Micah leaned back with his legs stretched far in front of him, hands folded behind his head. His silver hair shimmered faintly under the ceiling light, a lazy expression on his face. But his eyes weren't really relaxed. Not entirely.
Darcy sat more upright, back straight but stiff. His fingers tapped against his thigh without rhythm. Every few seconds, he would glance sideways at Micah, then away, then back again.
He shifted in his seat a little.
Ever since he saw Micah returning alone from the restroom earlier, he had been on edge. Why had Micah dragged Archie there? What did they do there? Just talk? About what?
