Page 15 of Playing Games

“Lex,” he says softly, stopping just ahead of me. “Let me walk you home. Make sure you get there safe. After that, you’ll never see me in the vicinity again.Unless…”

I arch a brow. “Unless what?”

His gaze locks with mine, steady and warm. “Unless you invite me.”

I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat.Why is he so good at this?“Okay,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend, as we start walking again. Every rational brain cell I have is screaming to let him go, but something deeper—somethingcurious—is pulling me toward him.

I can’t explain it, but Ihaveto know why women react to Blake Boden like this. WhyI’mreacting like this.

Hypotheses swirl in my head like a storm, and my brain spins through the kind of evidence-based research I could conduct to figure it out. I’d need a baseline spreadsheet—physical traits, football stats, maybe some genetic history—paired withhis upbringing and social conditioning. From there, I’d track reactions, mine and others’, and utilize an AI-assisted app to create a data flowchart to help correlate trends. I’d need updates…which would require future observations—otherwise known as seeing Blake more.

This is all hypothetically speaking, of course.

By the time I resurface from my internal monologue, we’re standing in front of my apartment. I blink, disoriented, and realize Blake is staring at me. Not impatiently, not smugly—just staring, like he’s trying to figure me out.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I was…thinking.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He gives me that lopsided grin that shouldn’t affect me butdoes. “I feel privileged to see your mind at work.”

I start to roll my eyes, but Blake stops me with a light touch on my elbow. His hand is warm, and my skin heats, completely betraying me.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly. “I’m serious. You’ve gotbigthings going on up here.”

My cheeks flush, and all I can think is,If you only knew the calculations I’ve been running about you.

“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat. “For…you know. The save, the horrifying pizza experience, the ice cream, walking me home. And your patience.”

His smile widens, and it’s both charming and infuriating. “You make me sound pretty good, Lex. Are yousureyou don’t want to date me?”

I laugh, though my response lacks conviction. “Pretty sure.”

Eighty percent sure. Maybe seventy.Fine. Sixty, at least.

“Okay, then.” Blake’s voice is light, but his eyes gleam with something teasing and unrelenting. “But if you change your mind…you know where to find me.”

“Statistically speaking,” I retort, forcing my brain to recover, “Dragon Stadium or your apartment.”

He grins. “Sounds about right.”

“Goodnight, Blake.”

“Goodnight, Lex.”

Warm air crackles between us as Blake leans in. I expect a quick, harmless kiss on the cheek, but at the last moment—probably because of some glitch in my brain-to-neck function—my head jerks.

And his lips landdirectlyon mine.

Tingles erupt across my skin like a live wire, and before I can process what’s happening, Blake wraps his arm around my back, pulling me closer. My hands press against his chest reflexively, and though my brain is spinning in panic, my body betrays me completely because—well,damn.

I push back abruptly, breaking the kiss and sucking in a sharp breath. Blake’s eyes are wide and intense, like I’ve just hit him with a lightning bolt.

“What was that, Lex?” he asks, his voice low and slightly rough.

“It wasn’t anything,” I lie, shaking my head too quickly.

“Bullshit.” He grabs my hand, holding it firmly but gently. “That wassomething.”

“Fine,” I admit. “It was something. It was research.”

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