Page 80 of Scoring the Player
He turns to me often when he speaks, never letting me feel left out but never forcing me to contribute.
He’s a human masterclass on being a people person.
Yeah, he’s definitely more broken into his skin than I am mine.
He and Sid talk fashion, and then the charities they support. When I recognize the name of one that focuses on mental health services and shelter for unhoused LGBTQIA+ youth, I blurt out, “I support that one too.”
He turns to me and quietly asks, “Yeah? Did Cat mention there’s a seat becoming available on the board?”
She did. “Boards aren’t really my thing.”
He nods.
“Are you, uh, thinking of applying?” I don’t even know if applying is the right word. I always imagine people in suits doing that kinda thing.
“I am.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “If they could use me, and it works with my schedule.” He stares down at my plate. “You liked the sauce?”
I follow his gaze to my plate filled with shells. “Mmhm. You’re a bakeranda cook?”
“I feed myself alright. You?”
I wince, making him laugh.
“That bad, huh?”
I shrug.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, brushing my knee, and I forget how to speak again.
Later,when we take turns cleaning ourselves up after we eat and Salem heads to the bathroom, Kieran whispers, “He’s dreamy.”
“A keeper,” Tommy echoes.
The ants are back, organizing an ant army invasion in my blood. “We aren’t together,” I mutter.
Kieran exchanges a glance with Tommy. “Why not?”
“Where’s the remote?” Sid interrupts, crashing onto the large marigold-colored couch and kicking his feet up on the kidney-shaped footrest.
“Let me guess, you tryna catch highlights of the Knights at Madison Square Garden?” Kieran teases.
“So?” Sid smirks.“And leave Princess alone.”
I glare at him. “You’re a matchmaker now? You’re dead to me.”
“See.” He catches the remote Tommy tosses him. “He loves too hard to love easily.”
I take a swig of my beer, ignoring the squeeze in the middle of my chest.
Okay, hewasdead to me for an hour. It’s impossible to stay angry at him any longer than that.
We watch highlights of Ty banking mid-and long-range shots with the precision of a sharpshooter. The Knights shooting guard and power forward also do damage, collecting forty-two points between them.
“Speak of the angel,” Kieran says as the front door shuts.
Our heads swing toward the hallway and a few seconds later, Ty walks in. He slides his key into the back pocket of his ripped skinny jeans, then daps Salem and me. “Wassup.”
He moves to Kieran and Tommy, planting kisses on both of their cheeks.
