Page 132 of Gloves Off

“What does the other one say?”

He shows me.ASS-ISTANT COACH VOLKOV,with peach emoji beads between the words.

I press my lips together so I don’t laugh. “Should I be concerned?”

He looks a shade embarrassed. “They asked me about exercises to get a bigger butt because they said whatever I was doing was working.”

I dissolve into laughter. “I can’t believe I missed that.”

He shakes his head, but looks like he’s fighting a smile. “You want me to drive home?”

“Sure.” I smile at him. I don’t love driving, and it’s nice to have someone do it for me.

And I like the way he sayshome,like it’s ours.

“Assistant coach.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him when we’re in the car, driving home. “That has a nice ring to it. You going to join me every time?”

“Maybe I will.” The bracelets clink on his arm, adorable and ridiculous against his thick, muscled forearm. Only a guy like Alexei could make friendship bracelets look hot.

When we get home, he pulls into my side of the garage and hauls my gear out of the trunk.

“Want me to leave this here?” He gestures at an empty rack in the garage.

“Sure.” I frown at it. “Wasn’t there stuff there before?”

He lifts the heavy bag like it weighs nothing. “I cleared it off. You need space for your soccer bags.”

I hold the door open for him, feeling funny about this. “That was nice of you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He follows me into the house, and at the junction where the kitchen and foyer link up, we pause, him watching me closely.

“Thanks for helping out tonight.” I feel weirdly self-conscious in front of him.

“Don’t mention that, either.” He folds his arms over his chest, watching me carefully. “We have a game tomorrow night. Maybe you can come. If you have time.”

“Oh, um. Yeah.” I blink. “I can make time.”

A beat of silence. Is he thinking about the hotel room after the awards dinner? Starting over, he said, or a new direction. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he won the weird power game we played by making me come and now it’s not fun anymore.

So typical. Men love the chase, but then they catch you and they’re no longer interested.

What was with that flirting earlier tonight, then? Why did he tell the girls I was beautiful?

See, this is why I do the one-and-done thing with hookups. So I’m not worrying and thinking about things after. I don’t have the mental energy to worry about men.

This is an agreement. We got turned on and messed around. That’s it.

He pauses, eyes lingering on my mouth, and my fluttery pulse takes off at a gallop.

“Goodnight,” I rush out before heading upstairs, feeling his gaze on me the entire way.

The next afternoon, a gift box sits on my bed with a big silky navy blue ribbon tied in a bow. My pulse jumps as I open it and lift up the Storm jersey in my size.

I check the back—VOLKOVis stitched on in block letters. Number 70.

Buying you things makes me feel a certain way,he’d said. Something pleasant twists low in my stomach.

As soon as his citizenship and my inheritance come through, I’ll have to either donate this to a thrift store or bury it at the back of my closet, where I won’t be reminded of it. That’s a problem for future me, though.