Page 20 of Well That Happened

Hair damp. Towel knotted over her glorious tits.

I bite back a curse and lean my head against the tile, water pounding over my back.

She’s Fletcher’s sister.

She’s off-limits.

She’severywhere.

And if I don’t shut it down soon, I’m going to lose more than my focus.

I might loseeverything.

I walk in, still half-sweaty from practice, my T-shirt clinging to my back and damp hair curling against my neck. My stomach’s a pit. I haven’t eaten since seven this morning. And not just food—I’m starving for something I don’t have the name for.

And then I see her.

Rilee’s in the kitchen, standing on her toes, reaching into the top cabinet for a mug. She’s in those jeans—the ones that hug her ass, with the rip at the knee and the way-too-snug fit that should be illegal in shared housing. Her T-shirt stretches just enough when she moves, and I catch a sliver of bare skin above her waistband.

It hits like a punch. Low. Deep.

She doesn’t notice me right away.

I could walk past. Head upstairs. Pretend I didn’t see her. That would be the smart move.

She turns and nearly jumps. “Oh—hey. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly.” My voice comes out rougher than I want. “What are you doing?”

She holds up the mug like it’s obvious. “Refueling. I’ve got a ten-hour shift starting in an hour and zero motivation to survive it.”

Her hair’s up in a messy twist. Strands falling around her face. No makeup. Not that she needs it.

It’s unfair how good she looks. Even when exhausted.

I can still feel the vibration of practice in my body—my muscles tight, breath shallow, like I haven’t cooled down. But this isn’t adrenaline.

It’s her.

She’s like static in my blood. Itching under my skin. Every breath I take near her makes it worse.

She sips. “You look like hell.”

A quiet chuckle escapes me. “Coach made us skate drills until someone puked.”

She eyes me. “Was it you?”

“No.”

She smirks. “Pity. I bet you’re a dramatic puker.”

I huff out a laugh before I can stop it.

She grins at that. Like she caught me slipping.

I look away. Grip the edge of the counter so I don’t do something I’ll regret.

She sets the mug down beside me. Too close.

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