Page 124 of Contested

Parker’s voice sliced through the air, and Sebastian dropped Marcos’ hand before he had even registered what Parker had said.

Marcos’ head snapped down the hallway.

Parker was sauntering toward them, running his hand along the wall as he did, hair flattened on one side from his pillow and his shirt riding up at the front. He looked half-asleep, and yet his voice was sharp and too loud for the hour.

“Dude, I thought you got mugged or something,” he said, his grin wide. “I’ve been waiting on my Mars bar.”

“They don’t have any,” Sebastian answered for Marcos, stepping to the side away from the vending machine, creating space between him and Marcos.

The motion was quick and practised. Sebastian’s shoulders reset into something neutral, his hands falling loose at his sides as if they had never been touching Marcos at all.

It was still something Marcos was trying to catch up on. How others would view something like this, no matter how innocent it was.

“They don’t have anything, really,” Marcos confirmed, and Parker pouted.

“Damn.” His eyes darted between Marcos and Sebastian. “What were you two doing?”

“Uh—” Sebastian started, but Marcos jumped in.

“Mainly complaining about the snacks. Then I got kinda sentimental. The Bandits, ya know?”

“Ah, fuck. Yeah. Don’t worry, man.” Parker slapped Marcos’ back. “We’re the better team.”

The slap landed hard enough to move Marcos half a step.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Sebastian said, the words stringing together. “Catch you guys tomorrow.”

“Night, Seb,” Parker called, eyes fixed on the vending machine.

Marcos raised his hand and offered a smile, which Sebastian returned, swift and silent, before turning and disappearing down the hall.

Marcos watched him go until he turned the corner.

Parker selected what he wanted from the machine and grabbed it, turning back to Marcos. “Getting anything?”

“Not really hungry anymore.”

“Alright,” Parker said, lifting a shoulder.

He started down the hall again, and Marcos followed, watching Parker open his packet of sour cream chips and eat the entire bag before they reached their room. Marcos tried not to judge him for it and failed, his face betraying him too easily.

The door swung open, and Marcos closed it behind them.

Two double beds sat against the wall with a television mounted opposite them, and a bathroom next to that. Their bags were sitting at the ends of the beds, with clothes already scattered over the top of them and across the floor.

The curtains were drawn, blocking out most of the car park lights, and the only glow came faintly from the curtain’s outline and from the small lamp beside Parker’s bed, which he shut off as soon as he reached it.

Parker threw himself onto the mattress, causing it to bounce him as he clawed his way to the pillows. He turned his head and watched Marcos step toward his own.

Marcos felt the stare more than he could see it in the dim room, which somehow made it worse.

“You and Seb seem to have gotten past your differences,” Parker said after Marcos sat on the edge of his bed.

“Mostly,” Marcos said, lying on top of his covers, hands clasped on his chest, staring the ceiling.

“For a while there, I really thought you guys were gonna give the reserves their chance in the spotlight.” Parker chuckled before letting out a long sigh. “Now you guys are, like, buddies.”

“I guess so.”