Page 153 of Game Misconduct

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The guy sees everything.

And that’s the problem. I can’t afford anyoneseeingme right now.

I duck my head and finish my tape wrap. The last turn snaps tight at the blade. The sound echoes sharp through the room.

Then the door swings open.

Coach Holt walks in—clean navy suit, no tie, expression like we’re already down by two.

And he’s not alone.

Sloane steps in behind him, heels quiet on the concrete, coat open over a soft black sweater. Next to her is a woman I don’t recognize—shorter, polished, holding a tablet like it’s a weapon.

My whole body locks.

I wasn’t ready to see her tonight.

And yet…here she is.

Sloane Carrington, in the flesh.

And just like that, the air in the room shifts.

I sit straighter. My pulse spikes. The noise around us dulls to static.

She doesn’t look at me. Not even once.

But she doesn’t have to.

Ifeelher—like electricity against my skin, like the shadow of a memory that won’t leave quietly.

I take in everything in one hungry sweep.

Hair pinned back, sleek and simple. Diamond studs in her ears. Red lip. That soft black sweater pulled tight across her breasts.

My hands ache to have those tits in my hands again.

But under all of that, there’s tension she’s barely holding together.

She’s doesn’t show it, but I can see she’s rattled.

It’s in the set of her jaw, the flick of her eyes. In the tight grip on the cuff of her sleeve that only I would notice because I notice everything about her.

She’s pissed. Controlled, calculated—but angry.

At Finn.

Maybe at herself.

At me.

And I probably deserve that.

Still, a selfish part of me wants her to look at me.

Just once.

I want her to give me something I can hold on to.

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