When we reach my room, I hesitate. The space is bare compared to the rest, the bed neatly made, a dresser, a lamp, not much else. But Leander steps in without waiting for permission, eyes flicking around before landing on me.
“So this is where the great Captain Phoenix sleeps,” he says, and there’s something in his tone I can’t quite pin down. Something playful and dangerous.
He sits on my bed, looking almost too perfect on my sheets.
My chest tightens. I open my mouth to brush it off, but the words die when I catch the way he’s looking at me. Not like a teammate. Not like a friend. Like he’s testing the weight of something unspoken, seeing how far he can push it.
“You always this nosy?” I ask, trying for steady.
He grins, and it hits me like a blow. “Only when it’s worth it.”
For a second, the air between us feels electric. My pulse stumbles, my skin prickling under the heat of his gaze. He has no idea what he does to me—how badly I’ve craved this, how long I’ve been barely holding myself back.
Leander is a drug. Pure and devastating. Every smile, every glance, every word from his mouth. One taste, and I’m ruined.
I clear my throat, dragging my eyes away before I do something reckless. “Come on. Party’s not gonna wait for us.”
But even as I lead him back down the hall, I can’t shake the thought burning through me: if he’s flirting, if this is real, I don’t know how long I can keep pretending restraint. But I need to know if he’s actually flirting.
By the time the first real wave of guests hits, my place is buzzing. Music pounds low, the bass rolling under conversations and laughter, carrying through every corner of the small place. I’ve got lights dimmed just enough to make everyone feel loose, but bright enough that no one can hide in a shadow.
The first familiar faces from the team drift in, rough around the edges and high on adrenaline from practice. I hand out beers like candy, taking mental notes of who’s playful, who’s serious, and who’s here purely to play.
And then she walks in. Alison.
She’s wearing that same mischievous grin she’s always had when hunting me, and I feel that familiar spark. She’s always had a thing for me, always been obvious, and she’s not subtle about it tonight. I never really entertained the idea; she’s not really my type. Too eager and forward. But tonight she might be of use.
She glides across the room like she owns the space, a flash of dark hair brushing her shoulders, eyes fixed on mine as soon as she spots me.
“Phoenix,” she purrs, voice low and teasing. “Thanks for inviting me. Wow, are you actually sober for once?” Her fingers trail down my arm.
I smirk, leaning casually against the counter. “Hopefully not for long, Ali.” My chest hums with the chase, the attention, the thrill of playing along.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Leander. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. Green eyes locked on me, and just the tiniest twitch of his lips when he notices Alison.
And just like that, my heart is racing. Jealousy on Leander is quite handsome. Delicious, sharp, and utterly consuming.
I grin into my beer. Fuck, I need to keep this going.
“You look good tonight,” I say to Alison.
She giggles. “Keep up the compliments, Locke.” She and her friends go into the kitchen looking for alcohol.
I casually make my way towards Leander and lean down, grazing my lips on the shell of his ear. “You alright?”
He huffs, looking away for a fraction of a second before snapping his gaze back, trying to appear unconcerned. “I’m fine,” he mutters, tone clipped but with just the tiniest edge.
I catch that edge and lean into it. “Are you sure?” I say, my voice low and deliberate. “I want to make sure I’m a gracious host.”
Leander shifts, jaw tightening, subtle heat creeping into his posture. I can feel it radiating toward me. It’s heady and thrilling. Every flicker of irritation, every tense exhale, it’s a drug, and I’ve been craving this fix all day.
The party’s growing, and more people show up, the room filling quickly with laughter and shouts. A few more girls from my college days lean in, flirtation dripping from every word, every brush of a hand. I let it play out naturally, teasing, laughing, spinning conversations just enough to keep the tension tight between Leander and me.
He’s icy and restrained, every glance calculated, but I can see him unraveling just slightly as he shoots back a few shots.
Drinks flow freely. I’m mixing cocktails, tossing beers to the next person in line, and I can feel the energy building in the room. I pull out a deck of cards, shoving it at a group gathered in the corner. “Poker,” I announce. “Winner gets the whole pot and maybe a shot.”
“Real money?” asks my teammate, Chase.
