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But he was too.
And not for the better.
“Well we can start with the Behemoths knocking us out of championship contention,” Tatum started, and I laughed, shaking my head.
“I see, so nothing real then?” I asked.
“Give me enough time, I’ll find a good reason,” he said. “Back to you though… you told me you were being driven, right? Not driving?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I don’t play the non-sober driving stuff. There’s a great service here in Blackwood, fully vetted drivers, luxury cars. You can even get bulletproof windows and all that if you want.”
“Well damn,” he laughed. “So I don’t have to ask you to give the phone to the driver so I put a little uncertainty on his mind about if you don’t get home safe?”
“Here you go trying to fight somebody again!”
“I’m not trying to fight. I’m saying I would let him know I will fight.”
“You gave your mama hell growing up, didn’t you?” I asked, and he laughed.
“Not in the way you’re probably thinking. And, for your information, I only fought when I had to.”
“Had to?”
“Kids are bad as fuck, Rori. Mean as fuck. They used to try me, so I had to build a certain reputation to get left alone. You never had to do anything like that?”
I smiled. “Actually, I was universally well-liked and good at everything I tried.”
“Why is that not surprising,” he grumbled, making me giggle.
“Don’t be jealous. My life is a fucking mess now, so some might say I peaked early.”
“And they would be wrong.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
“And I would be right, the fuck?”
“You’re great for my ego, you know that?” I told him, looking out the window as the car pulled onto a quieter stretch of road, the last little bit of the journey before I was home.
“I do my best in these challenging circumstances.”
“Challenging circumstances?”
“You being mean, screening my calls?—”
“It’s not like that!”
“It is though,” he insisted, clear amusement in his tone. “And that’s okay. I support it. You’re making sure I don’t get the wrong idea about what we’re doing, which makes it easy for me to not give you the wrong idea about what we’re doing.”
“Okay. You clocked me,” I admitted, nodding. “So what are we doing?”
“Enjoying each other’s company,” he came back, without even thinking about it. Easily. “You’re on your free agent shit, as you should be, and I’m doing what I always do, vibing. No pressure. Well… light pressure,” he laughed. “And if you’re off that, that’s cool too, I’ll respect it.”
“I’m not,” I replied, probably too quickly. “When we talk, it is… often the most enjoyable part of my day,” I admitted, then immediately wished I could take back that level of vulnerability.
But it was out there now.
“That bothers you?” he asked, perceptive as always, and I sighed.