Page 94 of On His Team

I look around the living room. There are five people in this house. Benson is upstairs. Blue is in the kitchen. Stanley is sitting six feet away from me pretending not to look at my phone.

There is no good answer to the question.

Me: You always do.

The typing bubble appears, disappears, then comes back.

Gianna: Wow. Romance is alive.

I laugh.

Me: Is that what you wanted?

The bubble appears again.

Stops.

Starts.

Then nothing.

I stare at the screen and realize that was probably too much.

I don’t know why I sent it.

My phone buzzes.

Gianna: Maybe.

I lean back against the couch.

She comes over around six. I hear her before I see her. Stanley says something from the kitchen, and Gianna answers loud enough that Benson laughs from upstairs. Then she walks into the living room wearing jeans and an old Camden sweatshirt with her hair down.

Nothing about her looks particularly different from any other night she’s been here.

Except now I know she likes me. Apparently that’s enough to make me look. Her eyes find mine. She stops for half a second.

“Rowan.”

“What’s up, G?”

She looks toward the TV, then at me, then at the open space beside me. She sits, and her thigh touches mine immediately.

“Sorry,” she says. “You are enormous. You occupy most available seating.”

My head turns slowly. “There’s more couch over there.”

She looks down and narrows her eyes. “You’re enjoying this again.”

“A little.”

“I regret everything.”

“No, you don’t.” The words come out before I think about it.

Her expression changes, not much, but enough.

“You’re very confident,” she says.