Two massive bodies storm into my apartment like it’s a damn police raid, heading straight for the bedroom with determination.
“Where’s Bennett?”
The deep, booming voice comes from none other than Miles, a guy I recognize from morning yoga—though he looks ten times more imposing indoors than he does on the beach.
“Oh.” He looks down at me. “Hey, hot yoga instructor. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
Behind him, another one of his teammates—Deshaun?—follows, scanning the room like he’s ready to assess the damage and take command of the situation.
They barely spare me another glance before their eyes land on Harris, lounging shirtless in my bed, looking like some kind of hunky fallen gladiator.
Miles’s brows shoot up. “Damn, bro. You lookrough.”
Deshaun steps closer, arms crossed. “We heard you almost died.”
Almost died? I shoot a glare in Annabelle’s direction.
Harris lets out a groan, bearing the burden of a great and noble tragedy. “Honestly, guys, it was touch and go for a while.”
Mom gasps, eyes wide with concern. “Nobody told me it wasthatserious!”
I throw up my hands. “Oh my God.”
I give up.
Harris’s teammates take up most of the oxygen in the room simply by existing, their giant frames hovering over the bed as we all stand idly by, watching. “Wait.” Miles scratches the back of his head. “Why are you here? And not in the hospital?”
Harris waves him off, like this is some minor inconvenience and not a series of truly terrible life choices catching up to him. “Because I’m fine.”
Deshaun doesn’t believe him. “Sure.Okay.”
Miles still looks unconvinced. “Nah, man. We need the full story.”
Harris gives them the rundown, starting at the part where he was trying to be romantic, lost his footing, got startled when I got startled, and ultimately crashed and burned in a flaming pit of trash.
Deshaun and Miles exchange glances, slowly turn to me, then back to Harris. Finally, Deshaun asks the question everyone has clearly been dying to ask. “Bruh—are the two of youseeingeach other?”
I choke. “Can we please focus? The man fell out of a second story window!”
Miles crosses his arms. “Yeah, butwhy?”
Deshaun nods. “Dude—what the fuck have you been up to these last couple days? Is she the reason you’ve been a no-show for the team activities?”
The team activities? “What team activities?” I blink, the pieces clicking into place. “Oh my God—yoga was a team activity, wasn’t it?”
Miles and Deshaun exchange glances, then both turn to Harris, who suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.
“Uh ... I showed up for themandatoryones,” Harris offers, scratching the back of his head.
Deshaun raises an eyebrow. “But you’ve skipped almost everything else.”
Harris shrugs, attempting nonchalance. “I’ve been busy.”
I decide now is a fantastic time to throw Harris under the bus and tell his friends what he’s actually been up to. “You all know he’s been moonlighting as a lumberjack, right? For the fall festival?”
There.
