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Naturally, Boy Kavalier walked through the underground room like he owned it. His shoulders were lax, annoyingly-so, smirk sharp, dressed down, but gleaming with a confidence that had gotten him everything he’s wanted. He had the look of a man humoring the room, like everyone else was playing dress-up while he was the only one who’d read the script.
Yet, his eyes moved sharp, hunting. He knew the truth, that bone-deep and bitter one: this was the one room he couldn’t walk into and automatically command. Because somewhere in the shifting crowd, was you. The only person who could match him.
Rival wasn’t a word he liked. Suggested parity, suggested weakness, but in the marrow of him, he knew. In truth, he’d put off this meeting too long. You hadn’t made it easy, but he had made it worse.