“Riley,” Kieran says, flat.
“What? Just saying she’s—” Riley’s grin widens. “Smart. Obviously. Even though she’s willing to waste her time on your dumb ass.”
The guys laugh—sharp, bright, too loud. The tall one at the stove flips his pan without looking away from me. “Welcome to the circus. I’m Mason.”
“Dax,” says the one with the knife, barely glancing up. “Don’t mind Riley. He’s compensating.”
“For what?” Riley shoots back, shameless.
More laughter, louder now. Their energy is pure swagger, performing masculinity for each other, showing off. I’m not a guest. I’m the audience.
“Any chance of actual studying happening?” I turn to Kieran, keeping my voice level. “Or should I bill for entertainment?”
Riley blinks. Mason’s spatula pauses. Then they laugh again, but this time it’s different. Surprised, maybe. Almost respectful.
“She’s got teeth,” Mason announces. “I like that.”
“Of course she does,” Riley says, recovering fast. “She’s putting up with O’Connor. That takes backbone.”
Kieran’s hand finds the small of my back. “Ignore them. They’re house-trained. Mostly.”
“Define mostly,” I say.
Dax finally looks up, mouth quirking. “Your boy there wipes doorknobs for cardio. That’s the standard we’re measured against.”
The laughter is warmer now, still bright orange but less aggressive. They’re testing me, I realize. Seeing if I’ll fold or fight back.
I choose neither. I just wait.
Mason gestures with his spatula. “You hungry? I made chicken and rice. Real food.”
“You cook?” slips out before I can stop it.
“Somebody’s gotta keep us alive for the season.” He’s back to performing, playing it up. “Otherwise these idiots would marry a delivery app.”
“Already engaged to DoorDash,” Riley says.
I almost smile.
“Sit,” Mason says, nodding at the island. “Can’t have O’Connor’s girl passing out from malnutrition. Bad for his brand.”
Kieran pulls out a stool for me. I sit, hyperaware of three pairs of eyes tracking the movement, cataloging the interaction.
Dax plates food with surprising precision: chicken, rice, roasted vegetables. He sets it in front of me with a grin thatdoesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
“For what?”
“Tutoring him.” Riley jerks his chin at Kieran. “Lost cause, that one.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kieran intercepts dryly.
The guys laugh. I pick up my fork.
They eat like they’re competing—fast, efficient, loud. Food disappears at an alarming rate. Between bites, Riley asks, “So what do you do when you’re not saving his GPA? You seem too calm for this chaos.”
“I study. Work.”
“Work where?” Dax asks, still eating.
