"I don't really have secrets. I prefer being direct."
"Everyone has secrets, Wu." She glances at her watch. "We should head to breakfast. Being late will just raise questions."
We reach The Griddle, where most of the team is already at our usual table. Gray watches our arrival with narrowed eyes. Eli glances between us, clearly calculating. Jackson stares at his menu.
"Wu was explaining the physics of optimal catch timing," she says smoothly as she sits down. "Fascinating stuff."
Gray's suspicion eases slightly. Eli's expression shifts to cautious neutrality. Jackson continues avoiding looking at her directly.
I take my seat, adding new observations to my mental database. The variables keep shifting, the situation becoming more complex with each interaction. But one thing remains consistent: Reese Callahan's presence has fundamentally changed our team dynamics, and the full impact hasn't been realized yet.
For someone who prefers the certainty of numbers, the unpredictability should be unsettling. But I find myself curious about how this will play out. What new patterns will emerge. What might result from this disruption of our usual routine.
chapter ELEVEN
Cameron
Ispot her fromacross the quad, walking alone with that particular tension she gets when something's eating at her. It's past nine, most students either in the library or already settled in for the night. But there's Reese, moving like she's trying to walk off whatever's bothering her.
My bike idles beneath me, engine warm from the ride back from nowhere in particular. I'd been killing time, avoiding the team house and all the noise that comes with eight guys living together. But seeing her out here alone changes my plans.
I ease the motorcycle toward her, pulling alongside at a crawl. She looks up, startled, body tensing like she's ready to run. I flip up my helmet visor so she can see my face.
"Blake." Her voice is steady, but I catch the relief underneath the wariness.
I nod once. Words don't come easily to me, especially the first ones of a conversation. The team's used to it. She's still learning.
"Evening walk?" I finally ask.
She shrugs. "Something like that. Needed air."
I study her face in the campus lighting. There are shadows under her eyes that weren't there this morning, and her shoulders carry weight that has nothing to do with her backpack.
"Know a better place for that," I say after a moment, nodding toward my bike.
Her eyebrows rise. "You offering me a ride?"
"If you're not afraid of motorcycles."
"I'm not afraid of motorcycles." Her chin lifts slightly. "Should I be afraid of you?"
I consider this. "Probably."
That gets a small smile. "Honest answer."
"Always am." I reach behind me for the spare helmet, the movement covering my hesitation. Conversations like this don't happen often for me. "So? Trust me for an hour?"
She looks at the helmet, then at me, clearly weighing her options. "Where?"
"Somewhere quiet." I pause, searching for words. "Somewhere you can actually think."
Another pause, longer this time. Then she takes the helmet. "Okay."
Getting on behind me is awkward at first. She settles onto the seat, hands hovering near my sides like she's not sure what to do with them.
"You'll fall off if you don't hold on," I tell her.
Her arms circle my waist, loose but there. "Don't get any ideas."
