Roman raised an eyebrow. “Youdon’twant to crash at Sinclair’s?”
I rolled my eyes. It was a wonder that the two of us were such good friends. We were constantly volleying to out smartass the other.
“No. Not that. It’s, um—” I paused, searching for my words. “I’ve kind of been seeing somebody.”
I braced myself, half-expecting teasing or a dramatic gasp,somekind of reaction. But all he did was nod, like he’d just solved a math problem.
“Fucking finally.” He grinned like an idiot. “Does that mean you’re ready to talk about how you’ve fallen for the enemy?”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m not an idiot,” he said, smirking. “You’ve been smiling at your phone like a teenager with a crush for weeks, not to mention spending almost every free night in Kenton.”
“How did you—”
“We share aLife360account, dude. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together once Bennett and Diaz mentioned a certain reporter who lived around the corner from them.”
I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly shy. “It’s Brock Heller.”
Roman let out a low whistle then grinned. “Yeah, I got that.”
Fuck, he made me feel like an embarrassed teenager. Like the time my mom had caught me sneaking in past curfew and decided the punishment would be public humiliation. Instead of grounding me like normal parents, they’d made me wear a custom shirt to school that said: “I should have listened to my mother—now I’m grounded.” My mom had even added glitter to the letters, just to make sure it caught the lightandthe attention of literally everyone, including the girl I had snuck out to meet that night.
To this day, glitter still gave me PTSD.
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me, yeah.” Roman lowered his voice, careful to make sure this conversation was just between the two of us. “But I’m your best friend. I know when you're into someone.”
“Are you pissed?”
He snorted. “Of course not. I’m happy for you, man.”
I exhaled, something loosening in my chest.
He leaned in with a sly grin before adding, “But just so we’re clear, I don’t care if he’s the best lay of your life; he’s still the enemy.”
I laughed with him, but inside, my pulse was still uneven. It felt good—relieving, even—to say it out loud. But that didn’t stop me from feeling like I’d just opened a door that could never be shut again.
Roman clapped a hand on my shoulder. “And don’t go telling him about my bad elbow. That’s classified team information.”
Up ahead, Rose City’s lights flickered through the tinted bus windows like little promises. I let myself imagine walking into Brock’s place tonight, maybe cooking something shitty together, finally saying the words out loud that I had been thinking about for weeks.
I want this. I want you.
All thoughts of a quiet evening together fell to the wayside, however, when the bus pulled to a stop outside the stadium. I grabbed my bag from the overhead, cheered with the others when Pink got off the bus, walking into the arms of the bombshell he had been pining over for months now, and then, finally, exited the bus myself.
“Later, dude,” Roman said, slapping my back.
“You sure you don’t want a ride home?”
“Nah.” His eyes drifted to something—or someone—behind me. “Something tells me you might have other plans.”
My chest tightened.
When I turned around, I saw Brock right away—standing alone under one of the parking lot lights, hands in his pockets, looking like a scene from one of the rom-com movies he refused to admit he loved. He was wearingmyshirt, the one I had picked up at a brewery last month in Milwaukee and then left at Brock’s apartment.
“Hey,” I said, jogging over, away from the chatter and jostling of my teammates. “Fancy meeting you here.”
