“No.” That dimple flashes again. “Let’s go to sleep.”
We both slide into bed on the opposite side of where Asher is lying. The bed is big—less big after we’re all in it. Savannah lies down in the middle. We’ve shared a bed for exactly two nights and already I know that she likes to stick her feet out of the covers.
“We can switch,” I offer.
“Are you sure?”
“I can sleep anywhere.” A useful skill on minor-league buses and when I was regularly passing out on strangers’ couches.
Sav gets out and I get in bed. This position puts me close to Asher. I hold myself stiff, not wanting to disturb him. In the dark, his hair is almost black against the pillow, the tattoo on his shoulder like a spill of ink.
Sav curls herself up next to me, her back against my side. She’s warm on my bruised shoulder. Her hair tickles my nose. Asher’s hand wanders under the covers until his knuckles brush mine. I could…
I could get used to this.
The next day,when I get back to the room after our game, Asher’s sitting up, reading a paperback book. His hair is damp at the ends—clearly, he’s feeling well enough to shower—and he seems brighter somehow, less pinched around his forehead and mouth.
He sets the book down when I come in. “Good game,” he says.
“Did you watch?”
He shakes his head. “Head’s better, but screens are kinda suspect today. I listened to the radio broadcast.”
I don’t know why, but I like something about that image: Asher lying in bed, listening to our game.Mygame. “Yeah?”
“You’re hitting better.”
“Have you been looking up my stats?” I tease.
“I might have paid attention to you before I got traded.”
“Might have?”
He smiles, that familiar smirk that used to make me want to grab his hair and tug and now?—
Now it makes me want to do the exact same thing.
I go over to him, kicking off my shoes. I slide my hand under his jaw. He looks up at me, eyes dark, lips slightly parted. I want to kiss him, a want that hums under my skin. Something that’s been there for a long time that I’m only now admitting.
“Where’s Sav?” he asks.
That makes me drop my hand. “She went to get drinks with Lexi.” Though from the look on Sav’s face when she told me, it was possibledrinksmeantinterrogationabout our new rooming situation. “I brought you food from the clubhouse.” I point to the stack of team-provided takeout boxes I carried in with me. I’m about to bring them over when Asher catches my wrist.
“We just need…” He scrunches his forehead like he’s searching for the correct word. “Ground rules for all of this.”
“Ground rules?”
“If we’re together without Sav—if that’s okay.”
Oh. So he’s not sayingno, but he’s not sayingyeseither. “You were with her without me,” I say, unable to keep the slight bitterness out of my voice.
“I could say the same to you.”
“I’m her husband.”
“And I’m…?” He trails off, eyebrows up.
Her boyfriend. My boyfriend. Something.“You’re a fucking problem.”
