Page 14 of Home Game

“No, it’s not. It’s resilient,” Wyatt says.

His quick response, seemingly in my defense, takes me off guard, and my gaze snaps to him.

“Boo to that. It’s lonely,” Tasha responds.

I shake my head slowly, my eyes on Wyatt’s. My lungs open up, and I draw in a deep breath. It feels like he’s trying to say so much more through our locked gazes. Or maybe I’m reading into it, looking for signs—signs I don’t even want.

“No, it’s not lonely. At least, it isn’t always.” He blinks slowly and moves his focus to my friend as he speaks. A pang tugs at my chest in his attention’s absence.

Tasha runs her hand along the bubbling foam in front of her as her lips mash. She’s avoiding Wyatt’s stare. Tasha doesn’t do deep conversations, and I get the sense that there’s experience behind what Wyatt is trying to say. Tasha’s mom is single. But she dates—a lot.And Tasha’s dad is not in the picture. Nor has he ever been.

“Drinks?” Her head bops up with the instant change in subject.

“I’d take a water,” I answer, knowing that’s not the kind of drink she means.

“Pffft!Loser,” she teases, but winks as she slips out of the water and turns her attention to Wyatt and Lexi.

“Whatever you get,” Lexi answers. I’m sure somehow Tasha will come back with beer. She looks a lot like her mom. So much so that she pocketed her mom’s driver’s license last year and has been using it for a whole host of things my mom would flip her lid over. Drinks at the pool bar fall on the tame side.

“Wyatt?” she asks, now standing behind me.

“I have to drive. So, water. Unless . . .” He turns his head slightly, giving me side eyes.

My gaze narrows as I mentally work through his insinuation.

“No! You are not sleeping here. He’ll have a water, too.” My tone amuses everyone, but thankfully, after Tasha laughs at my expense, she doesn’t push the idea.

It takes about five seconds for the awkward quiet to set in once my bold friend is gone. I’m not sure whether Lexi can feelthe extra tension between Wyatt and me or not, but after nearly a minute of silence, she decides to duck out of the hot tub to go find our friend and help.

It’s only the two of us in a dozen-person hot tub, yet the quarters feel strangely tight all of a sudden.

“You think they planned that?” Wyatt breaks the quiet.

I shift as I laugh, turning to the side so I can stretch my legs along the bench seat. I shake my head and roll my neck until my eyes rest on his tepid smirk.

“I think planning things would be giving my friends a whole lot of credit,” I joke. Truthfully? Tasha may have it in her to scheme and plan, but Lexi is too easily distracted to play matchmaker.

The water stills as the pump cuts off the jets. Wyatt steps into the center of the pool, ripples cascading from his body toward me. He sits where my feet end, and if I were to point my toes, they’d touch his thigh.

“So, is Bryce, like, your boyfriend or whatever?” The way he makes eye contact with me briefly sends a rush of serotonin down my spine.

“He was. And then he wasn’t. And then he was.” I roll my neck along with my eyes, and Wyatt breathes out a soft laugh. I think he gets my point.

“And you? Do you have girls stashed all over this Valley that you shack up with at resorts?” I’m fishing, and I’m pretty sure he sees right through it. I don’t care. I want to know if this . . . whatever this is we seem to be playing at . . . is a two-person game or a team sport. Wyatt is hot. There’s no way he hasn’t been with other girls.

His eyes haze a little as he stares into mine, his mouth hinting at a knowing smile. Finally, his head shakes slowly.

“I’m pretty tied up with starting a new school and leading a new team to state. Priorities and shit,” he says.

“Mmmm, yeah. Priorities.” Fucking football—it’s always the priority.

“That’s good about Bryce, though,” he adds.

My face puzzles.

“That you aren’t really dating anymore. He was a real player during camp,” Wyatt says, his gaze once again darting to me in short stints, like he’s testing my reaction. I’m not surprised by the revelation.

“Sounds about right.” I shrug.

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