Page 15 of The Risk Taker

I’m not staring. Just noticing… that’s all.

I grab a mat and drop onto it with a groan, stretching my arms over my head until my spine cracks. I’m halfway through a hamstring stretch when a voice pipes up next to me.

“Gray,” a rookie—Eli—says, panting from his own set and swinging his gym bag over his shoulder. “You going out tonight? The Kappa party’s supposed to be massive.”

I huff out a laugh. “Maybe. You trying to tag along?”

He grins. “If you’re going, hell yeah. I just need to get my hands on a fake ID before then.”

I snort. “It’s a frat party, man. They don’t ID. Just be cool, don’t get into fights and you’re good.”

He laughs, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Good to know. See you there then.”

I glance up and catch Nathan’s gaze flick toward me, but he snaps his eyes away immediately, scribbling in that damn notebook again, even though half the guys have already cleared out.

“You ever not follow that thing to the letter?” I ask, nodding toward it.

He doesn’t look up. “Why would I?”

“Because spontaneity exists?” I stretch my arms overhead, my shoulders popping. “Because sometimes your body tells you it wants something different?”

He finally meets my eyes. “That’s not how you build consistency.”

I let out a low laugh. “Jesus, you ever break a rule? Do something impulsive?”

“No.”

I let out a sigh. “Didn’t think so.”

I drop back onto the mat, bracing my hands behind me and feeling my shirt ride up as I lean into the stretch. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Nathan watching me.

My lips twitch into a smirk at first—because of course he’s looking—but it fades quickly when I realize what he’s actually looking at.

I know what he sees.

The scar.

A thin line, faded but still visible, running across the left side of my ribs.

His eyes linger, and something squeezes in my chest. I swallow hard, force a grin I don’t really feel.

“Don’t stare too long,” I say. “I might start thinking you like me.”

He blinks, snapping out of it. When his gaze meets mine again, it’s softer, and I fucking hate that. The pity in it.

“What happened?” he asks.

I grab my towel and rub it along the back of my neck. “Old accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

I shrug, rolling my shoulders back into the stretch. “Just… an accident. Wasn’t a big deal.”

He looks like he wants to press, like the question’s caught in his teeth, but he doesn’t. Thank fuck.

I shift onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow, meeting his eyes. “You’re not gonna start babying me now, are you?”

His lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile. “Wasn’t planning on it.”