Chapter 7Nice
The company party was in the ballroom of a fancy hotel downtown. Nice tried not to hyperventilate as the elevator took them from the parking garage to the ground floor.
“Nice.”
“What?”
Visho was offering his elbow.
Nice took his arm, clumsy because he’d never done that before. Was he supposed to hold on, or link their arms?
Visho put his hand over Nice’s and curled his fingers around Visho’s upper arm. The warmth of his touch made Nice realize his own hands were cold with stress.
Visho squeezed his hand. “Relax,” he murmured. “You’ve got nothing to lose here. Worst-case scenario is an excruciatingly awkward evening with people you’ll never see again.”
Nice swallowed and nodded and didn’t say he had hope to lose, because he knew how pathetic that sounded.
It was pathe
