Not a rebound. Not a replacement. Not a distraction.
Just…me.
I sit in my truck for ten minutes before starting the engine, my hand on the keys but not turning them. My lips still feel the ghost of her kiss — soft at first, then deeper, more insistent. The way her fingers curled into my shirt. The way she looked at me when I pulled away.
I wanted her.
I almost didn't stop.
That's a problem.
I start the truck and drive back to my place, replaying the moment over and over. The way she leaned into me. The vulnerability in admitting she didn't know who she was without Cody. The trust in her eyes when she said I wasn't a rebound.
I'm in trouble.
Deep, complicated, dangerous trouble.
Theo would see it immediately. He already suspects — the texts, the warnings, the way he looked at me during practice when I hesitated. He knows.
And if he knows, that makes this exponentially more dangerous for both of us.
I pull into my parking spot and kill the engine, sitting in the dark.
I don't get to want things that aren't part of the plan.
But I do. I want her in a way that has nothing to do with strategy, revenge, or whatever the fuck Theo's endgame is.
I want her because she's real. Because she's fighting back. Because when she looks at me, she sees something worth trusting.
And that terrifies me more than anything Theo could do.
The team bus to UCLA leaves at noon on Thursday.
I'm one of the first ones on, throwing my bag in the overhead compartment and claiming a window seat near the back. The bus fills gradually with guys dragging themselves on, still half-asleep, Coach doing a headcount, the equipment manager triple-checking that we have everything.
Theo gets on last.
Headphones in, expression unreadable, moving down the aisle like he owns the space. He doesn't sit near me. Doesn't even glance in my direction. Just takes a seat three rows up and stares out the window.
But I feel his awareness anyway.
Silas drops into the seat beside me, immediately pulling out his phone. "Ready to get our asses kicked again?"
"We're not getting our asses kicked," I say.
"We split with them at home. We're playing in their house now." He shrugs. "Odds aren't great."
"Theo won't let us lose."
Silas glances up at me, something sharp in his expression. "You sure about that?"
I don't answer.
The bus pulls out, and the next three hours pass in relative silence. Guys sleep, listen to music, or play games on their phones. Coach reviews plays on his tablet. I stare out the window and try not to think about Adela sitting on her bed, looking up at me with those eyes.
Theo and I exchange a look once.
He knows something.
