Page 138 of The Diamond in the Rough

He smiled. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “But I don’t want you to ever agree to anything you don’tactuallywant to do.”

“Okay,” I said again, then narrowed my eyes at him. “You, either,” I told him.

He blinked, his expression startled. “What?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, either,” I clarified.

He laughed, a huff of amusement. “Rayn, I’m much, much bigger than you,” he said, sounding amused. “I don’t think you could make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“Iama death witch,” I reminded him softly. “And unlessyou’re either a witch or warlock, I don’t think it cares how big you are.”

He fell silent, and a glance up at his features showed thoughtfulness. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said evenly. “Although now that you’ve brought it up, pleasetellme if you don’t want to do something first, rather than using magic.”

I was horrified. “I would never?—”

He squeezed my hand. “I’m teasing, Rayn,” he said softly. “I know you wouldn’t use—Jesus—death magic on me just because you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

“I wouldn’t ever use death magic on you,” I insisted.

“I know. Which is why I wanted to make sure you knew that I don’t want anything you aren’t willing to give.”

I drew in a long breath, a little mollified. “Okay,” I repeated. “But I don’t want you to, either.”

Another gentle squeeze. “Deal.”

We’d walked in silence for another few minutes when I looked up at him again. “Can I ask a… sort of personal question?” I asked, a little hesitant.

“Of course.”

“Why do you and Hart give each other such a hard time all the time?” It was something I’d seen plenty, but didn’t understand.

Raj laughed. “Because Hart doesn’t know how else to show affection,” he replied, amused. “He’s completely internalized locker room culture.”

“Locker room culture?” I asked.

“Hm. So, locker room culture is the idea that men—or women, I guess—on a sports team thrive on rivalry and shit-talking. Since sports teams are one of the only places that men—and I do meanmen—are allowed to show any sort of social affection for each other in American culture, rivalryand shit-talking are how most men express that affection, whether or not they’re on a sports team or are literally in or out of a locker room.”

“Oh.” I thought about this. “Was Hart ever on a sports team?” I asked.

Raj let out a laugh. “God, I have no idea.”

“Were you?”

“Soccer, as a kid,” came the easy reply. “I was pretty good at it, but not great. My brother’s better.”

This was news. “You have a brother?”

He smiled. “Brother, sister, parents, yeah.”

“You don’t talk about them,” I half-accused.

He let out a long breath. “I know your family is… difficult.”

I snorted. ‘Difficult’ was one word for it.

His lips twitched. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

“What are their names?” I asked him. “Older or younger?”