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His smile mirrors mine. Or at least tries to. Mine’s so big, it pushes my cheeks up near my eyes, partially closing them.

I don’t know what’s in store but tonight’s already close to perfect. I feel higher than when I was launched into the sky for baskets.

Out. The snack stand’s out of chicken strips. They’re trying to offer me chicken nuggets, but my girl wants her chicken in strips, not hard, weird-shaped little fucking balls of meat scraps.

All the others are closing up, so I jog upstairs to the one reserved for VIP. Immediately, I get stopped by some Rent-A-Cop asking me for a pass.

“The game is over,” I tell him in complete fucking deadpan. Is he serious right now?

“It’s okay,” I hear from a familiar voice. “You can let him through.”

My molars grind against each other. Should’ve known his privileged ass would be up here.

I don’t offer Guy any sort of acknowledgement as I make my way to the snack stand. The line is only two deep, and from the looks of those chicken strips going into the fryers in the back, they’ve got more on hand than downstairs.

“Kota was in top form tonight.”

The motherfucker’s next to me, lingering like I owe him something, anything. Although I don’t owe him a goddamn thing, I’m not gonna pass up an opportunity to sing Kota’s praises, especially not to the guy that fumbled her.

“She was, yeah.” I nod. “She killed it.”

He chuffs, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him swaying his chin side to side.

Did he like that?

I’ve never pulled punches before, I’m sure as fuck not gonna start now.

“Are you two…together?”

Twisting my head so I’m looking Guy dead in the eyes, I say, “She’s mine.”

Another one of those huffs.

I’m really hoping it’s because I did permanent damage.

I face forward again before telling him, “So keep doing exactly what I told you to and stay the fuck away from her.”

The woman in front of me startles, her shoulders jumping up to her ears from the curse.

I don’t care. It’s not like she didn’t hear worse during those last few minutes when everyone on this side of the stadium was enraged with the refs for that incomplete-pass call. Sea Haven’s elite act all prim and proper, until they don’t get their way, then all sense of propriety goes out the window and they’re animals just like the rest of us.

“She likes mayo mixed with ketchup,” I hear Guy say behind me.

Except when I whirl around, he’s gone. Asshole. Trying to tell me what my girlfriend likes. I know what Kota likes. I know her better than he ever did.

It’s not even like that’s some big revelation. Everyone likes mayo and ketchup mixed together. It’s delicious.

As soon as the strips, double order of fries because Kota will want her own, and the condiment blend are secure, I’m back downstairs, heading for the farthest parking lot from the stadium. Both hands full, I begin the search for the white Lexus IS. Given all three lots are mostly empty now, it’s not that hard to spot. Girl wasn’t lying—she’s all the way in the back.

I shake my head. Why the fuck would she park this far away knowing she’d be coming out here all alone in the dark? I noticed on my way in they have those emergency phones spaced out everywhere, but the closest one is still too far.

Her trunk is open as I approach, blocking Kota from view, but then a slender hand reaches up and slams it shut, revealing she’s not alone.

Goddamn it. See? This is the shit Kota never thinks about.

Whoever the fuck is messing with her is dead.

I quicken my steps.