Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“Oh,” Jeremy said as he stopped beside Jean.
Jean noticed the flick of his gaze over Jean’s face and down to his shirt: the deep blue top Jeremy had seemed so taken with yesterday. It wasn’t the first time Jeremy had studied him, but until this point Jean had assumed it was curiosity. Yesterday’s conversation cast a different light on his distraction, but if Riko put a knife to Jean’s throat right now Jean couldn’t explain why he was testing that line between them. He wasn’t allowed to look; it shouldn’t matter where Jeremy stood.
Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth. He needed to see the easy way Jeremy ceded Jean’s space to him. Jean couldn’t remember the last time someone allowed him any boundaries, and the feeling was as novel as it was addicting.
“Yes?” Jean asked.
“Nothing,” Jeremy said, too quickly, and offered Jean’s plate. “Hungry?”
He beat a hasty retreat as soon as Jean took it from him, and Jean turned back to his match with a satisfaction he refused to dwell on.
Jeremy left him in peace for the rest of the afternoon, but by half-past five the Trojans’ first guests were arriving. Jean closed his laptop and pushed it aside when he heard the doorbell ring. He was content to wait in the doorway to the study while Cat got the door, and she greeted the trio with such deafening enthusiasm he was grateful for the distance between them.
Since Cody was one of them, Jean assumed the other two were Patrick Toppings and Ananya. Ananya managed to slip past Cat first, only to be swept into a tight hug by Jeremy as soon as she reached the living room doorway. She laughed as he gave her a quick spin around, and Jeremy threw a wide grin down the hall toward Jean.
“Jean, this is Ananya,” he said. “She’s starting line with me in second half.”
Ananya moved to shake Jean’s hand. “Nice to meet you at last. How are you finding Los Angeles?”
“It’s unnecessarily crowded and hectic,” Jean said.
“Especially after Charleston,” she guessed, and looked back to see if her teammates—lovers?—would be joining her for this meet-and-greet.
Cat had trapped them at the front door and was going a mile a minute about a new game she’d picked up earlier this week. Laila had a hand on her arm and was trying to guide her down the hallway so their guests could at least sit down somewhere, but none of the backliners seemed in a hurry to move. From the sound of things, Cody had gotten into the same game, and they kept up with Cat with eager enthusiasm. Jean was less interested in what they were saying and more in the way Pat watched Cody with unabashed fondness.
“Darling,” Ananya called, and both Cody and Pat looked her way. Cat’s grin was taunting and unrepentant, and Cody gave her a discreet kick in the ankle as they hurriedly dropped their gaze. “Maybe you can argue best-in-slot after you’ve met your newest teammate?”
Pat didn’t have to touch Cody to get around them, but he did, catching Cody’s shoulders to half-turn them and nudge them to one side. As soon as Pat’s back was to them, Cat gave Cody’s shoulder a quick poke. Cody batted her away with a weak scowl. Then Pat was between Jean and the pair at the door, and Jean obediently turned his attention to the broad-shouldered brunette. Idly Jean wondered what USC had against recruiting tall players; Pat was barely taller than Jeremy was.
“’Lo there,” Pat said as he gave Jean’s hand a firm shake. “Jean, then? Pat or Patty will do. I promise not to take it personally if you kick me out of my starting spot. I mean, I’ll have to take it personally, but I’ll understand. Not a lot I can do when up against the perfect Court.”
“It wouldn’t be you,” Jean said. “Anderson is your least consistent starter. The only thing working in his favor between the two of us is the violence in my playing style. If your coaches cannot trust me on the line, he wins the spot by default.”
“Our coaches,” Jeremy muttered under his breath.
“The famous Raven charm,” Ananya said with a faint smile. “Do I want to know what your opinion of me is, or does our potential friendship hinge on tact?”
“You should be using a heavy,” Jean said. The confusion that flickered across her expression was frustrating to see; surely she’d already figured it out? “You play like you’re standing on an edge, all precision and coiled power and no will to use it. If you won’t betray the Trojans’ image or transfer to a more aggressive team, you should at least shore yourself up where you can.”
“I’ve tried heavies,” Ananya said. “I don’t like the way they feel.”