Page 71 of Role Model

He hated to eat alone, so he texted Wyatt. He got a reply almost immediately.

Wyatt: Hell yes.

Harris: See if anyone else wants to go. I’ll meet you in the lobby.

Wyatt: I’ll try to get Roz to go. I think he needs it. Haas, too.

Half an hour later, Harris was sharing an IHOP booth with Ilya Rozanov, Wyatt Hayes, and Luca Haas. Luca, the rookie, was bleary-eyed behind his glasses. Too much to drink last night or not enough sleep. Wyatt seemed more or less his normal, cheerful self. Ilya barely spoke, and had been staring at some spot over Harris’s shoulder for several minutes.

“I texted Barrett but didn’t hear back,” Wyatt said. “Not a surprise, I guess.”

“He probably is tired,” Ilya said mildly. He glanced quickly at Harris with raised eyebrows.

Harris blushed into his coffee mug. How did Ilya always know everything?

The server brought their ridiculous piles of food. They’d all ordered massive breakfast combos, except Ilya, who had ordered black coffee and toast.

“What are the kids doing today?” Wyatt asked Luca.

“We were going to rent scooters, but after last night I don’t know. Everyone is...”

“Blah?” Harris offered.

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Too bad Chiron isn’t here,” Harris joked. “That would cheer everyone up.”

Ilya’s head shot up, eyes burning with shock and indignation. “Then Chiron would have been on the plane. What the fuck, Harris? He would have been so scared!”

Harris put his hands up. “I was just saying. A puppy would be nice right now.”

Ilya took an aggressive bite of his toast, his eyes still full of warning. Harris changed the subject. “Well, at least the team got a bus for the trip to Ft. Lauderdale on Friday.”

“Thank fuck,” Wyatt agreed.

“We still have to get on a plane on Sunday. Back to Ottawa,” Ilya pointed out.

Silence hung over the table, thick with the anxiety of men who weren’t used to being terrified. Or at least weren’t used to talking about it.

Harris came to a decision. “We should have fun today.”

Ilya snorted. “Doing what?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go to the beach. Let’s...play mini golf.”

Ilya looked like he had something to say about that, but Wyatt cut him off. “Sure. I’m in. Better than sitting around worrying about the flight home.”

Luca glanced at Ilya, as if waiting for guidance. Ilya sighed. “Fine. Yes. Let’s lie on the beach.”

Luca smiled, and it made him look even younger than his twenty years. He worshipped Ilya and everyone knew it. “I’ll go too.”

This time Harris got to raise his eyebrows at Ilya. The Centaurs captain shut down his silent teasing with a glare and one sentence: “Did Barrett pack a bathing suit, do you think?”

Troy’s sneakers pounded the sand as he pushed himself one more mile. The sun was hot, the air humid, but he didn’t want to stop running. Not yet.

It felt great, being able to run outdoors like this. On an endless beach with the sun beating down on his chest and back. His sweat-soaked T-shirt hung from the waistband of his shorts, brushing his thigh with each stride.

Finally, when his lungs couldn’t take any more, he slowed to a jog, and then a walk. He could see the hotel ahead, not too far. He pulled his shirt from his waistband and wiped his face.

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