Chapter 21 External Pressure
Micah POV
The gym lights had been replaced by chandeliers, but the pressure felt exactly the same. Music floated through the school hall in soft waves, the kind meant to feel elegant, but every note grated against my nerves. I adjusted the collar of my borrowed jacket, fingers lingering there too long, as if it could shield me from being seen too clearly. Dante stood somewhere behind me, and even without looking, I felt him like gravity.
“Relax,” Max said, nudging my shoulder as he passed with a drink in hand. “You look like you’re about to check into a free throw line.”
“I’d rather be,” I muttered, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. The crowd pressed closer, laughter popping like static, and suddenly the room felt too small.
I was halfway through scanning for the nearest exit when Alison appeared in front of me, all perfect posture and polished smile. Her dress shimmered under the lights, but her eyes didn’t match it—too sharp, too focused. She tilted her head slightly, the way people do when they think they already know the answer.
“Micah,” she said lightly. “You disappeared after practice yesterday. Coach Dante kept you late again?”
My stomach tightened at the way she said his name, casual but pointed. I shrugged, keeping my tone neutral, my hands clenched behind my back.
“Extra drills,” I replied. “Nothing special.”
Her smile widened, just a fraction too slow.
“Funny. He doesn’t usually make exceptions.”
Before I could respond, Dante stepped into my line of sight, seamless and unhurried. He didn’t touch me, didn’t even look at me at first, but his presence slid between us like a wall. He addressed Alison with a polite nod that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Micah’s commitment is exceptional,” he said. “It deserves attention.”
Alison’s gaze flicked between us, measuring, calculating.
“Oh?” she said softly. “Attention can be… misunderstood.”
Dante finally looked at me then, brief and steady, like a silent check-in. My chest tightened at the familiarity of it.
“I think Micah understands me perfectly,” he replied.
Alison laughed, but it sounded rehearsed, brittle around the edges. She leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough that it felt like a secret meant to bruise.
“Careful,” she said, eyes on me now. “People talk. And they don’t always talk kindly.”
My pulse jumped, heat rushing up my neck, but before I could form a response, Dante spoke again.
“Then perhaps they should choose better subjects,” he said evenly. “Enjoy the evening, Alison.”
The dismissal was subtle, wrapped in civility, but it landed hard. Alison hesitated, eyes narrowing, then smoothed her expression and turned away.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My hands were shaking now, fingers flexing uselessly at my sides. Dante angled his body toward me, blocking the rest of the room without making it obvious.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” I said too fast.
He studied me for a moment, his gaze unreadable, then nodded once.
“Stay close,” he murmured. “Just for tonight.”
We moved through the crowd together, not touching, not obviously connected, but somehow always aligned. When someone approached me, Dante appeared seconds later with a question or comment, redirecting without force. When I drifted, he anchored me with a look. Each time, relief washed through me followed immediately by a spike of fear.
At one point, Max caught my arm near the refreshments table.
“Since when does Coach play bodyguard?” he whispered, glancing over my shoulder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, pulling free.
Max frowned, unconvinced, but let it go.
Later, as the night thinned out and conversations softened, Dante leaned closer, his voice low.
“You did well tonight,” he said.
“I didn’t do anything,” I replied.
“That’s not true,” he said. “You stayed composed. That matters.”
I looked at him then, really looked, and something twisted in my chest. The same man who pushed me until my muscles screamed now stood here shielding me from whispers and glances. The contradiction left me dizzy.
“I don’t want problems,” I said quietly.
Dante’s expression softened, just slightly.
“Neither do I.”
But as he guided me toward the exit, his hand hovering just close enough to feel, I knew the truth pressing in on me from all sides. The attention, the protection, the danger they were all tangled together now. And as much as I feared being exposed, a part of me feared something else even more.
That without Dante’s shadow, I might not know how to stand at all.