I’m starving. I could eat an entire cow right now. Maybe two. I got caught up watching game tape and forgot to eat, which is basically a crime against my own body.
The cafeteria is crowded when I push through the doors, the usual chaos of guys refueling after morning skate. I grab a tray and start loading it up. Two chicken breasts, a mountain of rice, broccoli because I’m supposed to eat vegetables, three rolls, and a banana. I add another chicken breast because why not.
I’m scanning the room for an empty table in the corner—my usual spot, away from everyone—when I see her.
Winnie.
She’s sitting alone at a table near the windows, picking at a salad, looking like she’s trying to be invisible. It’s not working. I can see at least four guys watching her, trying to work up the nerve to approach.
The afternoon light catches her hair, turning itgolden. She’s wearing a blue Knights T-shirt that’s slightly too big, and she keeps tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while scrolling through her phone. There’s something about the gesture—absent-minded, soft—that makes my chest feel tight.
I notice things I shouldn’t notice. The curve of her neck, the way she chews her bottom lip when she’s thinking.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Then I see Grayson.
He’s making his way toward her table with that swagger he thinks is charming. He’s carrying a smoothie and wearing the expression of a man who’s never been told no in his life.Dipshit.
My feet move before my brain catches up.
I cross the cafeteria in about five seconds, weaving between tables, and drop into the chair right next to Winnie. Close enough that our shoulders almost touch. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo—something citrusy and bright, like sunshine bottled up.
She looks up, startled. “Banks? What are you—”
“Eating lunch.” I set my overloaded tray down and pick up a fork. “That okay?”
“I… sure?”
Grayson has stopped a few feet away, smoothie in hand, looking confused. Like he can’t quite process what he’s seeing.
“Winnie.” He recovers quickly, flashing that smile. “I was just coming to keep you company.”
“She has company,” I say without looking up from my chicken.
“I was talking to her, not you.”
I meet his eyes with a hard look. “And now you’re not.”
Grayson’s jaw tightens. He looks at Winnie, trying a different approach. “You want me to tell this guy to get lost? We were going to have lunch.”
“We were?” Winnie blinks. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“I was about to ask.”
“Ah.”
There’s an awkward pause. I keep eating. The chicken is good. A little dry, but the rice makes up for it.
Winnie glances at me, and I can see her making a decision. Then she reaches over and places her hand on my arm—casual, easy, like she does it all the time. Her fingers are warm through my sleeve, and I have to force myself not to tense up at the contact.
“Thanks for the offer, Grayson,” she says sweetly, “but I’m good here.”
“With Banks?” He looks between us, disbelief written all over his face. “Since when are you two…?”
I set down my fork and turn to look at him for the first time. “Get lost, Reed. Win’s with me now.”
“Since when?”
