“Let me guess,” I say. “Power forward?”
He nods once.
“Lead rebounder. Crash the boards.”
The irony nearly makes me choke.
Clean up other people’s messes.
He steps closer, but still outside the boundary line. Careful. Watching.
Close enough that I have to crane my neck.
He notices.
His gaze dips, just briefly.
“Miss me?” he asks quietly.
“Not even a little.”
“Five years.”
“Five peaceful years.”
His eyes scan me slowly.
Not subtle.
Arms stronger. Shoulders broader. Confidence harder.
“You look…” he starts.
“Finish that sentence carefully.”
“…like you could bench press half my team.”
I snort before I can stop myself.
He leans a fraction closer.
“Littlechiquitagrew up.”
My jaw tightens.
“Don’t.”
“What? It was a compliment.”
“It was condescending.”
He pauses, considering that.
“You know I speak Spanish, right?”
Heat crawls up my neck.
“Claro que sí,” he says smoothly.
