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“Hey. I’m hanging with Brooke.”
“I, uh…” He frowns, straightening like he needs the extra two inches in height when he’s still the biggest person I’ve ever seen in real life. “I came to get my game back.”
“We’re still playing it. Come in,” Brooke calls from the living room.
He ducks through the doorway and follows me inside, close enough I can smell the woodsy scent of his body wash.
Brooke shows him her team.
“Miles?” Clay scoffs.
“Watch him beat your ass,” she challenges.
“My ass?” he echoes, cutting me a look. “Pink, did I make your team?”
Embarrassment rises up, warmth spreading through my cheeks.
Brooke’s phone rings from the coffee table. “Yeah, I got the clothes,” she answers when she picks up. “It’s on my schedule for next week.”
She bounces up, waving between us. Keep playing, she mouths.
I can’t shoot my friend side-eye because she’s already out of the room.
Clay sits next to me and takes Brooke’s controller.
“You haven’t played it in forever,” I say.
He brought a small stash of games to LA, but although I’d seen him play once or twice in Denver, he never seemed to once we moved.
“Figured I might see if I remember how.” He shifts next to me, lowering his body onto the couch.
It’s Brooke’s fault I’m suddenly hyper aware of Clay, and the fact that I haven’t had an orgasm that wasn’t self-perpetuated in far too long.
“You’re pretty good at this,” he says after we play a few sequences.
“So are you,” I say as his avatar moves down the court and dunks the ball.
I throw up both hands in victory as he collapses back against the couch.
He rubs a hand over his jaw. “I’m jealous of my avatar. They haven’t programmed in my knee problems yet.”
I set down the controller and turn toward him, my knee brushing his. “He’s a game character. You’re a real person, flesh and blood.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
My heart squeezes hard at the vulnerability in his voice.
“Tell me more about your drafting strategy,” he murmurs, oblivious to the fact I’m basically undressing him in my peripheral vision.
“I pick people I like. People I think will love playing together.”
He chuckles as he starts the game. “Like who?”
I rattle off my other starters. “And Jay, of course. You guys are obvious.”
He swears under his breath.
“If you’re honest with him about what went down, how much it sucked, I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” I insist.
