Page 43 of Close Knit

“No.” I chuckle. “An opposites-attract story. My dad’s in tech, and my mom’s a three-time WNBA champion.”

“Yeah, I learned that in mystalkingof you.” My pulse escalates, and I freeze. She immediately notices the discomfort. “I’m joking. Well, only a bit. I looked you up.AfterI found out who you were.”

My pointer digs into my cuticle as my nerves take over. “Don’t believe everything you read online.”

“I only skimmed the top half of your Wikipedia page. Had to make sure you weren’t a criminal moonlighting as a sports person. You do live right next to me.”

There’s no point in being a hypocrite. I’ve perused her account almost daily. “Fair enough.”

She continues clicking her needles together. “The night we met, you said you had handlers in the area. Want to tell me about them, Goose?”

The silly code name tugs at the corners of my lips. “I was celebrating my parents’ anniversary at Benu with all five of my siblings. ”

“Let me guess, you’re the middle child.”

I shrug. “Yes. Two sisters and three brothers.”

“That explains everything.”

She stirs another fraction of laughter out of me. “And you’re the youngest?”

“My oldest sister, Juni, never lets me forget it.”

“Explains everything,” I mock in return.

“You don’t act like you come from a big family. But I guess you do have the whole holing-up-in-your-room-and-not-talking-to-anyone thing down.”

“I talk to people,” I say defensively.

“People who don’t live in this apartment building?” she deadpans.

“My family.” Though it’s been weeks since I’ve properly checked in with them. Before every game, the group chat explodes with good luck messages. Yet I haven’t mustered up the nerve to explain that the Lyndhurst season so far hasn’t been a success, and I’m the root of the problem.

“You miss them?” Her voice softens. “I miss my family a lot.”

She’s so open about her feelings. I stop my nervous picking and clutch the pillow harder into my chest. “I do.”

“At least you have your teammates here. They’re really nice.”

“After today’s loss, I doubt any of them want to be on the same team as me.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of a team? To be together when you lose?”

Now she sounds like Coach.

Before I have a chance to answer, a ruckus blares from behind the door of the common room. Daphne’s ears perk up.I yank the orange blanket off of my shoulders and toss the pillow onto the sofa, quickly sliding back into my leather jacket.

A muffled shout seeps into the common room. “Who closed the door?”

“Yay! The rescue crew has arrived.” She stands. “We’re in here!”

“Daphne? Is that you?” A large bang slams against the door. “We’ll get you out.”

I sober at the realization that our moment together is over. As she walks past me, I reach out and gently lock my fingers around her wrist. Those blue-green eyes glance over her shoulder at me.What a fucking sight for sore eyes.

“I’ll slip my number under your door,” I say. “Plan on next Monday at three?”

“Sounds like a plan.” She lifts the corner of her lip at me, and I let go of her.

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