Just Like This (Albin Academy #2) - Cole McCade Page 0,86

of the infirmary door and leaned, cocking his foot so his toes propped against the floor, only to—

“...what are you doing?” rumbled over his shoulder.

“Oh—!” Heart stumbling, Rian whipped about...and barely caught a glimpse of Damon towering over him, looking down at him with the most puzzled expression, before Rian’s palm slipped on the door frame and he went reeling to one side, stomach going end-over-end while Rian tumbled toward going ass-over-elbows.

Only for a strong arm to hook around his waist, hefting him up easily, and this time his stomach flipped for different reasons when for just a second, that hard grip pressed him against the full length and breadth of Damon’s body—so much warmth soaking into him, like standing against the sun, and the hard-crafted chisels of Damon’s physique pressing into Rian from neck to toe, reminding him of that heavy shape pressing him down to the bed and...

They sprang apart as if by mutual agreement, Damon’s arm dropping away and leaving Rian free to stumble back, catching himself with his back against the wall and taking several shallow, shaky breaths before composing himself.

Just.

Keep your shit together Falwell, and it sounded so much like Damon that Rian almost smiled, holding on to that and calming himself the hell down when he was the one who said they should be adults about this, instead of acting like nervous teenagers.

“Thanks,” he managed to get out, and was almost proud that it only came out slightly strained.

Damon looked rather pointedly across the hall, rubbing a broad hand against the back of his neck, his expression blank; his hair was still wet from a shower, and it dripped darkened spatters against his light green T-shirt, and idly Rian wondered if Damon deliberately bought his shirts one size too small, or if they’d all conveniently shrunk in the wash.

“Yeah,” Damon muttered.

“I wasn’t—I thought you’d be coming from that way.” Rian jerked his chin down the hall.

“Stopped by my office first. Wanted to see if there was another contact number for the Northcotes on Chris’s permission slip.”

“And...?”

“Not a damned thing.” Damon’s shoulders moved restlessly, more of a jerk than a shrug. “So. We get Chris to talk, or we wait for his parents to call and they can get him to talk.”

Rian swept a bow, gesturing toward the infirmary door. “After you.”

That earned him an acerbic look. “You just want me to be the meat shield if Hadley’s still mad at us.”

“Am I that obvious?” Rian smiled sunnily. “You did offer already with Walden.”

“... Hadley’s more terrifying than Walden.” But the tightness in Damon’s shoulders eased, and he cast Rian an amused look as he pressed his palm against the door and pushed it open. “Here we go.”

Damon stepped through the door, his broad bulk blocking Rian’s line of sight for a moment before he stepped aside and Rian followed, pushing the door closed behind him. Inside, the curtain had been pulled back from around Chris’s bed, and Nurse Hadley leaned over him, settling a cafeteria tray atop an overbed table and maneuvering it comfortably into place over his lap, while Chris shifted himself awkwardly with one hand to sit upright, gingerly minding the other with its IV needle still inserted in his inner elbow.

Chris looked up as they entered; Nurse Hadley did, too, but while Hadley eyed them with thinly veiled disapproval, Chris watched them with a wide-eyed wariness that his smile did little to hide.

And it broke Rian’s heart.

Please, Chris. Please.

We’re not the ones you need to be afraid of.

“Hey, Mr. Falwell. Hey, Coach Louis,” Chris said. He looked a bit better, at least, his skin no longer so pale and eyes no longer so sunken, likely from at least getting a good night’s sleep and some fluids in him. “Come to spring me without bail?”

Nurse Hadley answered before either Rian or Damon could, her hands on her hips and her lips compressed tight. “You aren’t leaving this infirmary until I’m satisfied you’re no longer dehydrated or suffering from exhaustion,” she said, and Chris’s smile vanished; he gave her a swift, startled look.

“What?” he practically choked out, words shallow and riding on too little air. “I can’t—I need to go. I can’t stay here, I have to—I’ll miss—”

He started to push the overbed tray aside, drawing his legs up to kick them free—but Nurse Hadley pressed a hand to the center of his chest. Although he likely had a good hundred pounds on her, even when Chris strained that hand didn’t move, and