Page 116 of Make the Play

“You’re lucky I’m in—obsessed with you,” I mutter. Her fingers freeze in my hair, but I close my eyes and keep talking. “Otherwise, I’d leave you here with your dramatic retelling and your sparkly nipple net.”

“It’s a bralette.”

“It’s a fishing net with aspirations.”

She swats me in the ribs. I open my eyes and swat her back. Another retaliation from her, and suddenly we’re both laughing—stupid, tangled, gasping laughter that makes your stomach ache. The kind that cracks something open and lets light in.

She leans onto her side, studying me. I watch her right back, desperate to cup the back of her neck and pull her down for another kiss. To tell her how far gone I am for her, how none of this is fucking fake. But then her eyes dart down to my crotch.

“Youreallycan’t wear those pants tomorrow,” she wheezes. “Not with that stain. You’ll have to buy a poncho. One of those tie-dye mushroom ones. With fringe.”

I look at her deadpan. “If I end up in a neon mushroom poncho, you’re legally obligated to suck me off in it.”

She snorts. “You came in your pants. You don’t get to make demands.”

My grin stretches wide. “Still made you come so hard you drenched me.”

“…Shut up.”

I kiss her shoulder, and she collapses back beside me, both of us grinning like idiots. Slowly, she turns into me, and her arm drapes across my chest. A leg hooks over mine again, and I softly run my fingers up and down her arm. Even though she’s not looking at me, I know she feels it too.

That this wasn’t just a release, it was something bigger.

And if she lets herself feel it, it could be everything.

Chapter twenty-three

Do you have a fantasy involving a snake?

Zoe

My keychain jingles somewhere in the depths of my bag as I dig for the card that opens Chase’s condo door. It’s wedged under what feels like a crumpled receipt, two lip glosses, and possibly, judging by the sharp stab I just got, a rogue earring.

My phone buzzes again.

I sigh and glance at the screen, already knowing who it’ll be.

The group chat has been unhinged ever since that kiss at Enigma went viral. Hundreds of little snippets of us kissing were taken, and within hours we were all over social media, tags flooding the Storm’s page. It didn’t matter it was technically realfor us because, as far as the Storm and Pulse are concerned, we were faking it and playing perfectly into the narrative.

So I’ve kept up appearances, and Chase has doubled down. Like, the man has made it his personal mission to behigh-key. He has my coffee delivered almost daily to the office, along with my favorite almond croissant. And like a good little girlfriend, I post them to my socials, captioning them with things like“Best boyfriend—even in training camp”and a ridiculous assortment of emojis.

Like it’s nothing. All for the show.

That’s between us and God??????

Lulu:I just need to know what kind of birth chart creates a man who sends daily croissants. It’s a love language and he is GONE for you

Tamara:I’m calling it. Love language = acts of service.

Charlie:I’d marry him for the croissant alone.

Claire:can we talk about how his hand was in your hair in those Enigma pics again? I’ve never seen a man look more obsessed.

Me:it’s not that deep.

Me:Calm your star charts

Lulu:sorry, but no. He’s a Sagittarius sun with a Virgo moon, Zoe. He’s repressing so much affection he’s gonna explode. Preferably onto you.

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