Chapter 77: Jett Had Other Plans for His Hands

The Blackwell Breakers entered the tank beneath a cloud that began spelling victory before the referee had checked the teams. A student on the scoreboard platform waved both arms until the letters broke apart. The cloud settled for the university name, although one corner continued forming a small, hopeful cheer. Dante sat in the general seating with Honey on one side and a crate of Rhae’s drinks on the other. He had agreed to guard the crate while she checked the stall, which was apparently different from being allowed to sample its contents.

“Your job had remarkable trust attached to it,” Honey said when he examined a bottle.

“I was checking for enemy interference,” he said, studying the untouched seal.

“The seal was intact until you started considering it.” He put it back. Below the dry spectator platform, mermaid attendants moved along the glass, checking the lane fixtures with short silver tools. The water stayed clear enough to see the floor markings and the glowing fish-ball waiting inside its release ring.

Dante had once thought Jett was joking about feeding it. He knew better now, which seemed a useful measure of how much his education had cost the ordinary part of his mind. Posey’s squad stood on the dry platform beside the tank. Her wrist ribbon left a blue curve as she checked her spacing, then she found Dante in the seats and smiled before the opening count.

He lifted a hand. She blushed at the kiss he added to his fingers, then turned back to the squad with the fierce attention that had first made him forget to stare at her legs. Anika arrived carrying napkins from the refreshments stall. Her small weather cover was holding the drizzle away from its open side, though she had refused somebody’s request to improve the whole afternoon.

“I offered them a dry counter,” she said. “Apparently they heard summer.”

“You should charge extra for a season,” Dante replied.

“I’ll start by making sure they pay for the cover,” she said, checking the stall’s message before pocketing her phone.

The game began before she could quote him a rate. Jett held his defensive gap through the first advance. Another player darted toward the fish-ball, trying to draw him out, but he stayed beside the marked lane until his teammate closed the space behind him. Dante caught himself halfway through a shout. He had wanted Jett to chase. Then he remembered their first practice, when Jett had explained how leaving that gap gave the other team exactly what it wanted.

“He’s waiting for the pass,” Dante told Honey. Jett turned as the ball changed direction. He met it with his shoulder and guide hand, pushing the glowing fish into the open lane where his teammate was already moving.

The resulting score brought the whole row to its feet. Dante cheered with them, pleased by the small, private satisfaction of understanding the part that came before the obvious victory. A stone mascot lumbered into the aisle, waving both arms. The student behind it could see nothing but carved enthusiasm until a steward persuaded it to celebrate somewhere shorter.

At the next break, Posey’s squad began a turning sequence above the dry-side practice pool. Dante followed the catcher instead of the flyer for once, remembering her explanation that finding the landing took longer than learning the jump. Her hands moved before the returning girl reached them, trusting a count she had repeated when nobody was watching.

He clapped when the landing held. Honey glanced toward him, and he explained what Posey had shown him rather than claiming the performance had been arranged for his benefit. He could still notice the uniform afterward. Being impressed by her work had not damaged the other useful parts of his eyesight. Anika caught the direction of his next glance and passed him another napkin for the drink he had almost spilled. She managed the whole insult without saying a word, which he considered an abuse of seniority.

The rest of the game stayed close. Jett lost one contest, recovered his position, and trusted the same teammate on the next attempt. Dante watched instead of deciding the team needed his advice from three rows above the water. When the Breakers won, the scoreboard cloud finally received permission to finish its sentence. It added several exclamation marks nobody had approved. Afterward, Dante found Jett near the equipment exit. His red hair was still wet, and he had a towel around his shoulders that appeared to be losing the argument.

“The pass you didn’t chase was better than the final block,” Dante told him.

Jett looked surprised, then pleased. “You noticed that?”

“You explained it when I got here. I occasionally listen between important statements.”

A teammate called them toward a photograph. Dante started moving aside, but Jett caught his sleeve. “You can stand with us. You’ve been sitting through enough practices to qualify as furniture.”

Dante joined them, caught between two broad shoulders and an unnecessary amount of wet fabric. Nobody asked him to prove anything before leaving him in the picture. He liked the photograph before he even saw it. Later, Jett asked for another evening alone in their room. Dante checked the time, confirmed that this was a new request rather than an extension of his previous exile, and agreed.

“Does she know you’re dating other people?” he asked.

“She knows. She also knows you apparently run foreign policy from the other bed.”

“Then she understands the risks.” They collected Rhae from the stall. Her paid batch had sold well, and she was counting the remaining bottles rather than allowing compliments to replace income.

Dante lifted the empty crate. “People came back for another without me ordering them to.”

“Your silence had a strong effect on sales,” she said, brushing his wrist as he passed.

He asked which size she would make more of next time. She answered properly, and he remembered the numbers because she looked like somebody building a future she intended to own. Posey found him while the squad gathered for their return walk. She slipped her hand into his behind the crate and promised him a dance at Alpha Rho that evening.

“I’ll need instructions,” he told her. “Your last lesson involved an unexpected corner.”

“This one might involve where you put your hands.” The thought was helpful enough to improve the entire afternoon.

Then Evan stepped out from beside the equipment door with the practice roster open on his phone. “You said we’d keep the late slot,” he told Dante. “My team came back to find it gone.”

Nell waited a few feet behind him, holding fresh sheets against her chest. When Dante looked toward her, she smiled with the quiet pleasure of someone who had solved a problem before he needed to ask. Now his team had the uninterrupted rehearsal he wanted, and somebody else had the broken promise.