“You thinking about going pro?” she asked, as if it weren’t a big deal.
I swallowed quickly and turned away. “I’m just focused on my senior season.”
Ella didn’t push. She just nodded and went back to her room, tossing over her shoulder, “Good luck with the moody gremlin.”
The door shut behind her. I stood frozen for a moment too long. Thankfully, she didn’t pry, but I knew someone else wouldn’t be as courteous. Truth was, I was scared to say it out loud. Like I’d jinx it.
“Youarethinking about it,” Dom said quietly, his voice softer now.
“None of your business.” I bit back.
“You said it too fast.”
I turned to glare at him. “Do you analyze everything people say?”
“Only when they’re lying,” he drawled, one corner of his mouth curling up.
I let out a breath and picked up my tumbler, filling it with water just to keep my hands busy. “Why do you even care?”
“Maybe I like seeing you off balance.”No kidding.
“You’re a menace.”
“Yet you keep letting me in.”
I spun back toward him, my heart thudding a little too fast, heat crawling up my neck. “I don’tletyou do anything.”
His smile turned sharp. “Sure, Darlin’.”
Then, as if he hadn’t just set off every nerve in my body, he smiled devilishly.
As he reached for the remote and started flipping through Netflix, I caught myself sneaking a glance at those flexing arms again. The way his thighs pressed into the couch made me wonder how he could be so calm.
I glared daggers at his profile. “You’re staying?”
He didn’t even look over. “You kicked me out last time. I think I earned a night.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
He grinned without turning around. “Get used to it.”
With a huff, I stomped toward the bathroom, so fucking ready for a scalding hot shower. Maybe that would clear my head.
“Hey, Darlin’?”
I stopped in my tracks.
“Make sure to lock the door. Wouldn’t want anyone to take this as an invitation now, would we?”
And just like that, he made himself comfortable. On my couch. In my apartment. Like the tension between us wasn’t a live wire slowly burning down.
Twenty Six
Sierra
My bedroom had turned into a fucking evidence wall. Opposite the string lights I’d hung on the wall above my headboard, chaos had taken control.
The surface was covered in spreadsheet printouts, receipts, and sorority flyers bearing red scribbles.
