Page 95 of On His Team

Then Stanley walks into the room carrying a bowl of popcorn and ruins it. “What are we watching?”

Gianna leans away from me.

I look at Stanley.

He stops. “What?”

Gianna steals a handful of popcorn out of his bowl.

Stanley looks down at her. “See, this is what I’m talking about. Nobody respects me in my own home.”

“You live with four other people,” she says.

“Four men who respect me.”

Blue walks through from the kitchen. “No.”

Stanley turns around. “Fuck all of you.”

Gianna laughs.

I watch her.

Now that I’m aware I’m doing it, I can’t stop noticing the exact moment before she laughs. Her mouth opens first. Her shoulders lift. Sometimes she looks at whoever made the joke, sometimes she looks down.

I have known this woman for years. Apparently, I’ve never looked at her properly.

Later, everyone ends up in the kitchen because Benson orders food. Gianna is standing between me and the counter when it arrives, and when she reaches around me for a plate, I move right at the same time she does.

She moves left. So do I. We stop.

“Seriously?” she says.

“You’re following me.”

“I’m trying to get around you.”

“Then go left.”

She goes left.

I go left again.

She starts laughing. “Rowan.”

“What?”

“Stop.”

“I’m trying.”

“No, you’re not.”

I am. Mostly.

She puts both hands against my sides and tries to physically move me. It works less than she expects. Her palms land against my ribs. I look down at them. Then at her. She looks up. Neither of us is laughing anymore.

The kitchen stays loud behind us. Benson and Stanley are arguing about ranch dressing. Lucy is opening containers. Somebody drops a fork.