Gideon gave me a sideways glance, grin softening. “What’s next? Flowers? Dinner? Some kind of necklace with her name on it?”
I smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”
Because if she asked?
I’d give her all of it.
We sat in silence for a beat—rare, but not uncomfortable. My thoughts drifted back to her, sprawled across my bed, probably thumbing through the rare edition I’d left on her pillow like a silent offering. I could picture it too easily: her wrapped in my sheets, wearing nothing but that damn choker, legs tangled, lost in another world.
Mine.
And when practice was over?
I was going to go home and remind her of that.
Slowly.
Over and over again.
I leaned back against my locker, still catching my breath. My jersey stuck to my skin, sweat cooling under the weight of the day’s drills. My head should’ve been in the game—but all I could think about was her.
Persephone. Wrapped in my sheets. Still wearing the choker I gave her.
Jeremy sauntered over with that shit-eating grin like he had something clever locked and loaded. “All right, Hades. Spill. What’s the plan for tonight? Dinner? Candlelight? A little slow-dancing under the stars? I saw that picture. You two looked cozy."
I shot him a look that should’ve turned him to stone, but my mouth betrayed me—a smirk tugging at the corner. “Maybe I’ll just let her surprise me.”
James snorted from across the room, towel slung over his shoulder. “She probably wants something basic. Steakhouse, maybe a movie. You gonna survive that kind of domesticity?”
“Basic?” I lifted a brow, deadpan. “You mean the kind of place where the food isn’t drowning in grease and regret?”
Gang Lu chuckled low from his corner, sharp eyes narrowing. “You’ve got a soft spot, Sinclair.”
I shrugged, but my shoulders were too tense. “I’ve got good taste. She just happens to match it.”
Jafar leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching me like he was studying a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “So what’s the move? Flowers? Fancy dinner? Or are you gonna pretend another ‘accidental’ bookstore date wasn’t orchestrated down to the last breath?”
“I don’t need flowers,” I said. “She’s not the kind of girl who wants to be impressed. She wants to be seen.”
That shut them up for a beat.
“Maybe I’ll take her to that art exhibit downtown,” I added, voice casual, but my gut tightening at the thought of her eyes lighting up over something beautiful—something I gave her.
Gideon let out a bark of a laugh. “Art? What is this, a courtship ritual?”
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about courting someone who doesn’t come with a drink special,” I fired back.
Jeremy chimed in. “And since when did you give a shit about ‘culture’?”
“I can appreciate beauty,” I said, voice low now. “In more than one form.”
Gideon elbowed Jeremy, eyes gleaming. “Look out, the Reaper’s getting sentimental.”
“Sentimental?” I laughed once, sharp and short. “Hardly.”
But it wasn’t untrue.
Because something about her—about the way she fought me even while letting me in—had rewired everything I thought I knew.
