Noah’s smirking on the other side, and I move out of the way for him to enter. As soon as the door is closed, and he sees Dane’s not in the room, he crashes his lips to mine, groaning as our tongues meet.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs between kisses.
“Me, too.”
We lose ourselves in a frenzy of lips, tongue, and teeth, and I shiver when his hands slide under my shirt, his nails scratching over my abs.
“What’s Blake doing?” I ask when I force myself to pull away.
Noah shrugs. “Scrolling on his phone. I said I was coming here to check on Dane.”
“Such a good captain,” I tease.
He smirks. “The best.”
The water in the bathroom turns off, and I lean in for one last taste before pulling away, walking over to my bed,and dropping onto it. Noah follows, taking a seat on the couch by the window, and not a moment too soon.
The bathroom door swings open, and our teammate exits, a towel wrapped around his waist.
His eyes narrow when he spots Noah. “I don’t need an intervention,” he growls, sliding on some underwear and shorts beneath his towel before removing it.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Noah replies. “I just came to hang out.”
Dane makes a disbelieving noise but doesn’t say anything else as he kicks back on his bed, picking up his phone from the side table.
“Forget about the game,” I say. “We can’t save everything.”
“You did,” he says, voice flat. He doesn’t look up from his phone.
I exchange a glance with Noah. “Everyone has an off game.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “You’re back now. I probably won’t get any pitch time for the rest of the season.”
“We’ll keep doing the extra sessions on Wednesdays. Don’t overthink it. I didn’t get much pitch time with Peters between the posts last year. You’ve got three more years to prove yourself.”
My phone buzzes at the same time as Dane’s and Noah’s. I glance at my screen.
Ritter: Celebrations in room 25.
Ritter:
Griffen: BYO glass.
Mathers: YEOW!
Doyle:
Doyle: Be right there.
Logan: On my way.
My gaze lifts to Noah, wondering what our captain thinks of the impromptu party, but he’s watching Dane with a frown.
“We going?” I ask when no one says anything.
“No,” Dane mumbles, while Noah responds with, “Yes.”
“Get up and throw a shirt on,” he tells Dane.
