“Killian does, and that’s close enough.” Ryan nudges me with his shoulder, tilting his head so he can look me in the eye. “Come on, Noah. You’ve been sulking in here long enough while pretending you care about color-coordinating your closet. Besides, the guys all wanna meet you.”
The thought alone makes my stomach knot. Meeting the guys who live here means seeing Damien again, and this time in front of an audience. No hiding in silence. No pretending we’re strangers passing in a driveway. Damnit, my throat tightens just imagining it.
I know Ryan will try to talk me into it no matter what I say, so I simply sigh and nod. “Fine, but you know I’m shit at conversation.”
He grins and throws an arm around me. “That’s why I’m opening the introductions, and you’re sitting right next to me.”
As much as I’m thankful for that, I still hate it. I follow him out the door and down a wide staircase that looks like something stolen from a movie set. The polished wood banister is smooth beneath my palm, catching the faint light of the chandelier that still feels obscene in a house full of college athletes.
Voices carry up from somewhere downstairs—laughter, comments, the clatter of dishes—and the closer we get, the more out of place I feel.
The smell hits me before we reach the bottom of the stairs—something spicy and warm lingering under the heavier scent of herbs. It’s the kind of inviting smell that fills a place withcomfort. But it doesn’t ease me. It reminds me how out of place I am, like I’ve walked into a family gathering where I don’t belong.
When we step into the kitchen, the noise quiets, and I feel the weight of eyes turning in my direction.
The space is massive, bigger than any kitchen I’ve seen in a house. A long marble island dominates the center, already covered with bowls of salad, baskets of bread, bottles of water, and a few cans of soda.
I do my best to avoid the one sitting at the end, but I can feel his gaze on me.
Ryan claps me on the back, steering me in. “Alright,cabrones, this is Noah Adams. Blackthorne freshman, swimming prodigy, photographer, and my best friend. If any of you scare him off, I’ll add hair removal cream to your shampoo. Noah, meet everyone.”
I adjust my stance, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole, but Ryan barrels on as if this is his personal stage.
“H-hi, everyone,” I stutter, feeling like an absolute idiot.
Two guys are standing at the stove, a blond and a brunet, both tall and handsome as hell. The blond glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes a piercing blue that pins me in place a second too long. Then he nods once. “Welcome to the Sin Bin. Grab a plate before Luca finishes everything.”
“Fuck off, King,” someone chirps, and the others chuckle. I try to smile, but it’s shaky at best.
Ryan drags me forward, steering me toward the island like I might bolt if given the chance. He starts pointing out people one by one, his grin widening with every name.
“That’s Killian King,” he says, gesturing toward the blond guy at the stove. “Our fearless leader, owner of this fine establishment, hockey captain, and resident control freak. Don’t touch his knives unless you want to die.”
I catch Killian’s smirk, and he speaks without looking up. “I might make an exception for your boy, Torres.Él es lindo.”
Ryan flips him off behind his back. “Hands off,” he says with a scowl before moving on. “Next to Killian is his bestie, Roman Bishop. He also plays hockey and is mean on the ice. But don’t worry, he secretly loves puppies.”
Roman lifts a brow, his lips twitching just enough to betray his amusement. “Don’t listen to him, I’m a cat person.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking, so I just nod.
Ryan points to another blond guy who is still chewing, and I realize that everyone at this goddamn kitchen island is beautiful. Built like they work out in their sleep, but gorgeous nonetheless.
“This is Luca Devereaux: quarterback, campus royalty, and resident pain in my ass. He’ll tell you he’s the most important person in this house,pero no le creas. His ego doesn’t need the help.”
Luca swallows and smirks, giving me a faint nod. “Good to meet you, man.”
“Adrian Hart, or as we call him—Red,” Ryan goes on, nodding at the guy buttering a bread roll. He has red curls and green eyes that look like they hide too much. “Soccer goalie, calm, and smarter than all of us combined, but don’t tell Sage that. Sage is Luca’s attack dog—uh, boyfriend.”
Luca throws a roll at Ryan’s head just as Adrian glances up and offers me a small smile. Then he goes right back to his food without a word. Something tells me Adrian might be someone I could get along with more than anyone else here.
“Thorn Knight,” Ryan continues, gesturing to the guy with the brown hair sitting next to Luca. He’s wearing a black tank top, has a lollipop in his mouth, and looks bored. “Also a hockey player, and addicted to lollipops—both the sweet and the flesh kind.”
I burst out laughing just as Thorn says, “Fuck off, Torres.” That seems to be a callsign for Ryan around here, and honestly, I get it. My best friend is a menace to society. “Welcome to the jungle, Adams,” Thorn says.
I nod and offer him a smile, which is the least I can do for laughing at the joke Ryan made at his expense.
“Those two fighting over the salad are Julian West and Eli Matthews,” he says, pointing to a tanned guy with short-cropped blond hair and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and one with long curly hair similar to Ryan’s, and tattoos running up into the back of his neck. “Running back and tight end. They come as a pair, don’t ask why.”
