“Is that a performance joke, Sloane?” I removed the towel from her hands, pressing our naked chests together and running a finger down her neck. “How dare you? This sassy mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”
She laughed, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed me right on the lips. It was quick and soft, but she made the move, and I felt like I could fly. “Go get ready for the game, Oliver. You need to be at the top of your game. Their defense is better than the last two opponents.”
“I’ve never felt better, honey.” I kissed her again and stared at the curve of her lips, her red cheeks, her long lashes and smooth skin. “Have you to thank for that.”
“Leave,” she said, teasing me as she pushed me. “I need to shower, and I don’t have time for distractions.”
“Beg to differ, but I’ll respect your choice.”
I slid on my boxers, shorts, and the shirt I wore last night as she watched me with a curious, soft expression. I wanted to ask what was going on in her brain but knew better. She was joking with me, she kissed me, and those actions were huge. “I’ll see you in a bit, honey. Try not to stare at my ass.”
“You are… the worst.” Yet, she smiled as I snuck out the door, and that felt like a touchdown all on its own.
The elevator ride down from the team floor was quiet. Most of the guys wore headphones, faces blank, laser-focused in that pregame way. My body still buzzed from how the morning started—warm skin, tangled legs, her voice against my throat. But my brain knew better. I needed to reset. Lock in. I showered and got ready within minutes and used the extra time to do yoga, breathe, and stretch.
The breakfast spread was already set when we got to the private dining room. Scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, oatmeal, bananas, protein bars, electrolytes—every option calculated. I grabbed a plate and moved through the line like I had a hundred times before, but nothing felt routine about it.
Jordan elbowed me as he passed with a protein shake. “Never came back last night, buddy. Got an extra spring to your step.”
“Shut up,” I said, super mature and eloquent of me.
He grinned and wiggled his brows. “Hey, you look sharp and rested. I’ll take that any day.”
“Yeah,” Quinn joined us, a protein bar hanging out of his mouth. “I need my running back to be light on his feet and not sore in the wrong places. You good, Romeo?”
“I’m feeling better than ever,” I said, shimmying a little because it was damn true. My pulse: normal. No headache, no pains. No nervous energy in my veins that told me I wasn’t healthy. Last night helped me settle down, and now I was addicted to that feeling, to her.
I scanned the room, spotting Sloane near the coffee station. Her hair was still damp from a shower, pulled into a low ponytail, and she wore a fitted quarter-zip with the Rampage logo and black joggers. Her badge was clipped to the waistband as usual, and her tablet rested against her chest.
She laughed at something Noah said. Probably something dumb and sweet. She always softened around him, and despite the fact he was one of the kindest dudes on the team, I hated how she never had to hide her joy around him.
I didn’t approach her, worried she’d overreact or say to hell with me. She didn’t look my way at all, and I told myself that was fine. I sat two tables over with Jordan and Ty and forced myself to eat. Three eggs. Half a banana. Electrolyte water. I chewed through everything with my eyes on the floor.
Mac walked through, nodding once at me before heading for the med check corner, where Ivy and William had set up. The two rolling cases and travel scanners were already plugged in. Ivy held a clipboard, waving players over one at a time for vitals.
“James,” she called. “You’re up.”
I wiped my mouth, tossed my napkin, and followed her to the corner. Ivy gave me a once-over. “Sleep okay?”
“Better than usual,” I said, and it was the truth.
She clipped the pulse ox on my finger. “Heart rate’s low. That’s good.”
She moved through the rest of the steps—blood pressure, hydration, O2 sat. Everything came back clean. “BP’s 124 over 78. No dizziness?”
“Nope.”
She hummed like she didn’t quite believe me, then flipped to the next chart. “Weight’s down a pound. Eat another banana.”
I stepped away as Sloane moved past me toward the back of the room. She didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance up. But when her shoulder brushed mine, I felt it in my ribs like a shock.
She sat beside William and started reviewing tablets with a straight face. Her voice stayed low. Calm. Focused. But she smiled when Quinn made a joke, and my chest clenched tighter than it should’ve.
We boarded the buses at 10:30. Everyone loaded by position group. I sat near the back again, headphones on, hoodie up. Sloane boarded last with Ivy and Mac. She moved down the aisle, counting heads.
She skipped right past me.
Didn’t touch me. Didn’t pause. Professional.
