We don’t hear the rest of what they’re saying because Kai shuts the door behind him, leaving Angel and me alone.
He stares at me, extensively like he’s trying to figure something out. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I play it off, shrugging and lifting my smile.
“I know this time of the year is weird, and April is approaching and?—”
“I’m fine.” There’s a bite to my voice, but I quickly shake it off. “I promise.”
“How are the swimming lessons coming along?” he questions, unperturbed by my curt reaction.
“They’re…coming along. Not a lot of improvement. I’ve told Josie she’s wasting her time, but she’s adamant and won’t give up.”
We recently had to switch them for Thursdays since most of my games will be Sundays. So today after the guys leave, I’ll have another lesson. I still somewhat dread it, but once she’s guiding me, her hands touching me, I feel okay.
“You know, I like her.”
My back goes rigid at the way he said that.
“Not like that.” He snorts and pauses to fish his phone out of his pocket. He reads whatever is on the screen before his gaze lifts to mine. Something feels off about the way he’s looking at me, but he smiles and tucks his phone back in his pocket.
“Everything good?”
“Oh yeah, it’s—” His eyes dart back to his pocket. “Actually, I’ll be back. I gotta answer this.”
He drops the bag of chips on the island and walks out to the backyard before I can get a word out. I don’t understand why he did that when he’s very open with me. I don’t muse over it because it must’ve been someone important, like his mom or siblings.
My focus on Angel is long forgotten as the pretty girl with raven-black hair and rich brown eyes occupies my mind. She shouldn’t but I can’t help that my body begs for her in the way it never has for anyone else.
Begs, yeans, needs. My body is desperate. No,I’m desperate.
She doesn’t need you. You’re broken. The dark fog, remember it. You’re weak,my brain screams.
“Maybe I should start posting more.” Kai’s eyes narrow on the small screen of Gray’s phone. “How much do you think Saint’s making?”
Grayson is close with Saint Arlo, a basketball player from North Carolina University. They went to some private middle and high school in Boston and have been friends ever since. At least that’s what he told us.
He supports everything he does, like watching Saint’s basketball games, Live’s on Instagram or TikTok, or whatever stupid shit he gets himself into.
If we have time, we’ll watch the games because he’s wickedly good. And on occasion the Live’s. Though after a while, I stop because the girls are insane and the comments get explicitly thirsty.
“Fuck if I know. I’m sure it’s a lot.” Gray tsks, his expression not of awe like Kai’s but indifference.
I’d be indifferent too if I had the kind of money that would financially set me for life. The kind of money that would set the next six or seven or hell maybe ten generations of my family for life. Not only because his father is the governor of North Carolina and mom is apparently one of the best attorneys there is, but his family comes from old money.
Angel looked him up after we found out he’d been recruited to play here. Then he showed up in an expensive-ass car—which he upgraded to a motorcycle because the car wasn’t to his liking—but it wasn’t just that or his clothes and shoes that had us doing a double take, but the way he carries himself. With an edge of crisp arrogance that makes you feel like you don’t belong near his vicinity.
It was hard getting a read on him at first. At times he’s dry, blunt, and conceited, but eventually he warmed his way into our hearts.
“You should go for it. Look at his friend. He doesn’t speak and hardly does anything, yet look at the comments on the Live.” Angel’s chuckle gets muffled by the bite he takes of his burger. “Fucking horny jersey chasers.”
“It’s the accent and he’s…got nice hair or whatever,” Gray mutters bitterly.
“Yeah, I gotta admit he’s got nice-looking hair,” Kai retorts. “But you’ve got a cute Southern accent and all.”
I press my lips together. I can’t with them.
“The girls aren’t going crazy for it like they are for his,” he quips.
