“Jalisa.”
He frowns. “How do you know Jalisa?”
“She went to college with my sister. They’re somewhat close, though that’s questionable,” I say, uncomfortable with having a conversation about the degrees of separation between me and his hookups. “I’m not judging. Do you—or them.” I look away. “I know what this is.”
He steps forward and lifts my chin. “What was tonight for you?”
“Satisfying. Confusing. A line we shouldn’t cross again.”
It takes several seconds for Antonio to blink. “You want things to stay the same?”
A crease burrows between my brows at the scowl marring his face. “I’m not naive. I know what this is: you getting me off. I’m sure it’s not the first or last time you’ll help one of your friends.”
“Friends.” He laughs to himself. “Yeah, sure. Go get cleaned up. I’ll call down for new sheets and hop in after you.”
“Okay,” I say to his back. “Antonio?” He glances over his shoulder halfway through the door. “You don’t need to worry about me catching feelings. Nothing will change between us.”
I get a nod before I’m left in a cloud of steam.
Chapter 30
Antonio
“Need a hug?”
“I’m fine.” I wave Shins off.
“You sure about that?” He raises his hands at my glare. “Just asking.”
Someone needs to ask himself why he wears Carl Winslow sweaters in public.
“I told you I’m fine.”
“You’ve been staring at the wall in the kitchen for twenty minutes.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Thinking about changing the backsplash.”
The lie does not take my mind off Miriam. In fact, it does the opposite. I bet she could renovate my entire apartment in half a day. I’ve seen her calculate figures in her head and criticize what she deemed to be overcomplicated instructions.
She probably has a toolbelt too. One of those good suede ones with compartments for protractors and compasses and shit.
I swat Shins’s hand away from my face. “Are you following concussion protocol?”
“I don’t have a concussion,” I mutter, shifting to look at the movie and not the unwanted houseguest in my personal space.
My sectional seats six, eight if they’re not ruggers. There’s more than enough space to stretch out without him breathing down my neck.
Shins hasn’t been home since practice ended. He comes to Steel House to kick it from time to time, but he’s been here for three hours. Spent all of them on my last nerve.
“You took a hard blow during the scrimmage.”
“I’ve been hit harder,” I point out.
Jones, the other starting flanker, tossed me on my ass. Hard. I wasn’t paying attention, and he capitalized. Simple as that.
How Miriam and I left things in Vegas messed with my head during practice.
Two knocks rattle the front door before Bread pops his head in. “Got any honey I can borrow?”
