She realizes I've spotted her and immediately looks away, but it's too late. The damage is done. She came to watch me play. She can deny it all she wants, but her body's still drawn to mine.
“Locker room! Now!” Coach bellows, breaking the moment. “Before these St. Charles pricks start crying about their loss!”
I jog off the court, deliberately not looking back at Seraphina. Let her stew in it. Let her fucking squirm.
The locker room is utter chaos with guys shouting, music blasting, the smell of sweat and victory thick in the air. Cassian and Asher break away from the pack to join me, both still riding the high of the win.
“Fucking beautiful shot, man!” Asher throws his arm around my shoulders, practically vibrating with energy. “Did you see Michaels’ face when that shit went in? Like someone just told him his mom's been fucking the mailman!”
“What did you expect?” I strip off my jersey, tossing it into my locker. “St. Charles is trash. Always has been. Well, their basketball team is anyway. Football and hockey have decent records. Gotta give it to the Blackwoods for that.”
Cassian tosses me a towel, his eyes gleaming with a fire that only comes out after a win. “You were in the zone tonight. Never seen you like that before.”
“I refuse to lose to fucking SCU, man,” I say, wiping sweat from my face.
Coach calls for everyone's attention, and the locker room quiets down as he launches into his post-game speech. I tune him out, already knowing what he's going to say. Good job, room for improvement, blah blah fucking blah.
When he finally finishes and heads to his office, I stand up on the bench, towering over everyone else. The team turns to me, waiting. As captain, they expect words of wisdom or some shit.
“Listen up, you worthless fucks,” I say, my voice carrying through the locker room. “We won tonight, but barely. A three-point buzzer-beater shouldn't have been necessary.” I scan their faces, making eye contact with each of them. “Next time we face SCU, I want a fucking shutout. I want to humiliate them so badly their grandchildren will feel it.”
Some of the guys cheer, but I shut that down with a glare.
“You think this is good enough? Half of you played like you had your dicks in your hands instead of the ball. Rodriguez, you missed three fucking layups. Jefferson, your defense was weaker than your pull-out game.” I point around the room. “Next time, I want to see actual points on the board from everyone, not just me carrying this team on my back.”
Miller raises his hand like we're in fucking kindergarten. “But we still won?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I cut him off. “Winning by the skin of our teeth isn't winning. It's surviving. And I don't survive—I dominate.” I look around at their chastened faces. “So maybe spend less time fucking everything that moves and more time practicing your goddamn shots.”
I jump down from the bench, dismissing them with a wave of my hand. “Now get the fuck out of here. Practice tomorrow at six.”
The team disperses, heading to the showers or checking their phones. I grab my own phone from my locker, seeing a few missed texts from my father—probably congratulating me on the win he didn't bother to attend. So very typical.
Cassian and Asher slide onto the bench on either side of me, boxing me in like they always do. The three of us have been inseparable since primary school, long before we officially became Sinners.
“Quite the motivational speech there, Captain,” Asher says, scrolling through his own messages. “Really inspiring shit.”
I grunt, not bothering to look up from my screen. “If they can't handle the truth, they shouldn't be on my team.”
“Speaking of things you need to handle,” Cassian says, his voice dropping lower, “the Choosing Ceremony is coming up fast. The elders are already placing bets on who you're going to pick.”
Asher leans in, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, who's the lucky girl getting the Devereux crown? I've got twenty bucks on Vanessa Bosworth. She's been practically begging for someone to choose her since freshman year.”
“Fuck no,” I snap. “I wouldn't touch that desperate cunt with someone else's dick.”
“What about Blake?” Cassian suggests. “Her family's got the right connections.”
“After I publicly eviscerated her in front of the entire gym? Not fucking likely.”
Cassian smirks, leaning back against the lockers with that look in his eyes that means he's about to say something fucking stupid.
“Too bad you can't choose Seraphina Carvelli,” he says with a theatrical sigh. “She's gotten even hotter since she came back. That ass in those skirts? Fucking criminal.”
I grab him by the throat before I can even think, slamming him against the metal lockers hard enough to dent them. The locker room goes silent, everyone freezing mid-motion.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, my voice so quiet only he can hear me. I tighten my grip just enough to make his eyes widen. “Worry more about the fact you're fucking pining after Valentina De la Cruz—the one girl your family hates more than anything in this world, who's already slated to end up with a fucking Saint.”
His face twitches beneath my grip. No one's supposed to know about his obsession with the De la Cruz’s daughter. No oneexcept me, because I make it my business to know everyone's secrets.
