Henneman spots us and goes rigid, his smile vanishing.
A girl’s seated next to him—some brunette wearing designer everything. She’s pressed up against his side, running fingers down his arm like she has the right.
But she doesn’t.
He’s mine.
Viktor studies my face, an amusing glint in his eye. “Ooh, that jaw clench. The slight flare of the nostrils. Someone's jealous.”
“He's being reckless. Stupid.” My voice comes out level, controlled. “What if pictures surface?”
“Oh, please. A picture? Or is it that she's marking her territory? Maybe you should do the same.” He winks. “Anyway, I'll grab us beers.”
As he heads toward the bar, Zach and I claim an empty table. I take the chair facing Henneman. I should go over there. Make it clear who he belongs to. But that looksdesperate, like I care that bitch is still touching what isn’t hers.
Zach drops into his chair. “You going to do something about that?”
I pull out my phone to check our game schedule. “No reason. He knows what’ll happen if he fucks up. And also knows we’re here.”
“Except you’re tense.”
I don’t bother responding.
“Merci and Eli had lunch with your husband a few days ago.”
After putting my phone face down on the table, I glare at him. “I told them to stay out of it. And stop calling him that.”
Viktor arrives, setting three bottles on the table. “Actually, you only told Eli to stay out of it. Merci does whatever the fuck he wants.”
I grab a beer and take a long pull. It’s cold, bitter, necessary. “What did they talk about?”
Zach's mouth twitches. “Your hair.”
I pause mid-sip. “What?”
“Apparently you spend half an hour perfecting it every morning. Even have a special mirror.”
Henneman noticed?
I huff, shaking my head at the thought. Why wouldn’t he? We share a room.
Viktor's eyes gleam with mischief. “And the exact forty-five-minute duration of your showers. Very detailed. He seems quite . . . observant.”
“Henneman shouldn't be talking. Does he even shower?”
Both of them stare at me.
I roll my eyes. “I know he showers. Just never when I'm there.”
Everyone knows about his locker room issues. Won't go near the team showers. Shows up already dressed. Even in our room, he waits for me to leave to get ready.
So, I started adjusting, making sure the bathroom's free when he needs it. Not because I give a shit. Because a scholarship player who fails out is useless leverage.
Laughter from the Court's table draws my attention. Henneman's head is thrown back, laughing so hard his shoulders shake.
My fingers tighten around the bottle.
Never heard him laugh. Never seen him smile.
