This is a bad idea.
The worst idea.
My father merges onto the highway, and I pull out my phone, scrolling through the shop’sInstagramwithout really seeing it.
“You’re quiet,” Dad says after a few minutes.
“I’m hungry.”
“Liar.”
I glance at him. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” He sighs again, softer this time. “I want you to be careful. Reece is talented, but he’s also trouble. The kind of guy who looks at rules and sees suggestions.”
“Sounds familiar,” I murmur.
Dad shoots me a look. “You’re nothing—”
“Dad. Relax.” I tuck my phone away, leaning my head against the window. “I’mnotinterested.”
“Good.”
But the words taste sour on my tongue.
Because Iaminterested.
And from the look on Reece’s face when he realized who I was, he’s interested too.
Which means we’re both in trouble.
Chapter Five
Reece
The stadium lights are still blazing when I push through the players’ exit at eleven thirty, my hair is damp from the shower, and my body hums with residual adrenaline of a nine-inning shutout. We beat the Metros 4-0, and I threw a hundred and twelve pitches, a season high, but worth every single one.
The parking lot is mostly empty now, save for a handful of staff vehicles and the occasional straggler. The night air hits my face, cool and sharp, cutting through the last remnants of steam still rising from my skin.
I’m halfway to my car when I hear it, a metallic screech followed by a string of profanity creative enough to make even Martinez blush.
I stop.
Turn.
And there she is.
Ava Bishop, illuminated by the streetlight outside Ink District Studio, is wrestling with the same roller door she fought last week. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, her boots scuffing against the pavement as she braces herself and pulls.
The door doesn’t budge.
“Son of a—” She kicks the base of the door, then immediately winces, hopping back on one foot.
I shouldn’t go over there.
I know I shouldn’t.
Coach Bishop made it abundantly clear three days ago, during film review in front of the entire team, why dating his daughter would be a spectacularly bad idea. He didn’t say her name.Didn’t have to. The way he stared at me while talking about‘distractions,’ ‘priorities,’and‘consequences’made the subtext pretty damn obvious.
