“Nice job out there,” Z says as he removes his headphones from his locker and places them around his neck.

“You too. You keep playing like that, and you’ll be a top-round pick for sure.”

He grunts, but I don’t miss the smile. I take his future as seriously as he does. It’s my job to get the ball to him, so if I fail, then he fails. That isn’t gonna happen.

“See ya back at the house,” I call after him. When the rest of the guys go, I unwrap my foot and hobble to the shower. Pain throbs as I wash quickly, leaning on the wall to take some of the weight off it. I’m supposed to be easing into it, but I only have one mode—all out.

“How’s the foot, Reynolds?” Coach asks as I step out of the shower with a towel around my waist.

“Sore, but good. It felt strong out there.”

He nods and eyes me carefully. When he seems convinced I’m telling the truth he nods again. “All right. Take it easy tonight. I know you guys are celebrating, but make sure you ice it before bed and check in with the trainers first thing tomorrow before practice. Need you strong out there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Reynolds? Spend some time with Shaw. He has potential.”

Just the mention of the rookie irritates me. “He’s a hot head.”

“So were you.” He pushes open the door and taps the doorjamb twice with a fist. “Nice work out there tonight. Good to have you back on the floor.”

When the door closes behind him, I slink down on the bench and flex my foot to try to loosen it up a bit.

I’m back.

The party is loud, and people are everywhere when I get back to the house. I push through to my room and throw my bag onto my bed. I’m not really in the mood to party, but I am hoping a certain brunette will show up. I spotted her at the game, which might have had something to do with my refusal to ask coach to pull me even after my foot started throbbing.

“Fifteen points, three assists, and either two or three steals. I lost track trying to keep count of all of it.” The object of my thoughts stands in the doorway of my room. “And I can’t believe Zeke.”

“He’s pretty incredible.”

“I meant the talking. The guy never shuts up out there. Who knew?”

I laugh. “Yeah, he saves it all for the court.”

She steps into the room and holds out a beer. “Drink?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink during the season.”

“I don’t think Joel got that memo. He’s halfway through a bottle of Jack downstairs.”

She moves to sit on my bed, and I take a seat at my desk.

“Your foot hurts.” A crease forms between her brows, and she speaks with certainty.

“A little sore.”

“You should probably have it elevated.” She moves into action, looking around the room before zoning in on a chair propped up on the other wall. She pulls it across the room and then motions for me to put my leg up. “You have any ice in here? Or is it heat that you need?”

“Shit. I should have grabbed an ice pack from downstairs.”

She bites her lip and looks as if she is considering leaving to go get it. She’s gone into full-blown mama bear mode. It’s hot, but I don’t want her to leave.

“Hand me that beer.”

She obliges, and I place the cold can against the side of my foot just above the top of my shoe. I should really take it off and ice it properly, but I don’t want to give her any reason to rush off. “Guess I did need that drink after all.”

She shifts as if she doesn’t know what to do—or worse, as if she might leave.

“Sit, please. You’re making me nervous pacing around.”

She does, and we study each other with the bass from downstairs vibrating the floor below us. “Did you enjoy your first game?”

“I did.”

I’m not convinced. “You don’t sound very sure.”

“I was a nervous wreck. I don’t know how you do it. Every shot, every pass . . . I’ll have an ulcer by the end of the season.”

I like that she’s already planning on going to more games. Like that I popped her ball cherry. Hell, I even like that having her there made me work that much harder.

I swing my foot down off the chair and stand. “Move over.”

Before she can protest, I sit on the bed next to her and scoot until my back rests against the wall. My feet still hang off the edge, though. A detail that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Blair moves so she’s facing the headboard and I angle myself to face her and move my legs onto the bed. Without a word she places her still mostly cold beer against my foot.

Her phone pings, and she sits forward to retrieve it from her back pocket giving me an eyeful of cleavage. A gentleman would pretend not to notice, but there’s no part of her covered flesh I haven’t already imagined in vivid detail.

“It’s Vanessa. She and Mario are leaving.”

“Already? Party just started.”

“I think they’re far more interested in being alone than a party with half the university.”

She pulls the beer away from my foot and lets her legs hang off the edge of the bed. “I should go. I rode over with them.”

“I doubt they want a third wheel for what they have in mind. Stay. I’ll get you a ride home later.”

“You sure I’m not keeping you from your adoring fans?”

“Got my number-one fan right here.”

She cocks a brow. “I’m your number-one fan? I’m not sure what that says about you, considering I’ve only been to one game.”

“I guarantee you’re the only one here who tracked my stats tonight. It was three steals, by the way.” I wink, and she blushes. Truth be told, it’s fucking hot that she watched me close enough and cared enough to keep a tally.

“So, I surmise there’s no boyfriend. If there were, he’d have tracked you down and kicked my ass by now.”

“Was that a question?”

“Yeah.” I laugh out the word. “Is there a guy?”

The tiniest shake of her head is my answer. “And you aren’t dating anyone and on top of the list for every girl downstairs. I’m actually surprised I’m the only one who thought to come upstairs.”

“Smart girl.” I worry a little about the talk she might have heard. I haven’t dated anyone since freshman year when I realized I didn’t have the time or energy for that while playing college ball, but I’m not ignorant to the rumors and talk that have me sleeping with or paired up with a different girl every week. Not true, by the way. Girls are too exhausting to go through them like Joel does.

She rolls her eyes. “I just wanted to check on you. I saw you favoring the leg as you went up the stairs.

“I’ll be all right. Feels better already. So, why no boyfriend? I haven’t heard any chatter, but I’m not blind.”

“You have the weirdest way of asking a question that feels like it isn’t really a question.”

I cross my arms behind my head and wait for her to answer.

“I’ve dated a little, but nothing serious.”

I’m content to keep her to myself in my room. Hell, I didn’t even want to party before she showed up, but Blair isn’t an easy nut to crack. Maybe the atmosphere downstairs and another drink or two will loosen her up. And I don’t mean that in a crass way. I’m more interested in learning something about her than getting in her pants. At least for tonight.

“You ever seen a six-six guy do a keg stand?” I ask as I stand and hold out my hand to her.

She puts her delicate hand in mine. “No.”

“Let’s go find Joel then. It should be just about showtime.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and make sure to lean some weight on her so she feels like she’s helping me. Part of me does it to claim her, selfish man that I am. Mostly, though, I just want an excuse to touch her.

Joel is exactly where I expected him to be—the center of fucking attention on the back patio. Girls hang off either side, and he’s telling one of the five stories he tells every damn time he gets drunk. He stops mid-sentence when he spots Blair and me.

“Reynolds!” He calls out my name and lifts the bottle in his hand. “About time that you two lovebirds decided to show your faces.”

I grin but feel Blair shrink a little in my arms. Fucking Joel. “Don’t be jealous that I got the hottest girl on my arm.”

It’s a dick thing to say, considering the two on his, but I’ll trade their annoyance to make Blair feel less unsure. I nudge us through to an outdoor patio set. “Shaw, wanna give me and Blair your seats?”

He growls at me and doesn’t budge.

“Come on man, I need to get off my foot.”

He nods to the girls next to him, and they leave slowly, taking their damn time as he glares at me.

“They always do what you say?” Blair asks when we are seated.

“I wish. The freshman are the worst. Takes half the season to get their egos in check.”

“Who keeps yours in check?”

“Ball busters like you.”

I pull her closer so she’s all but on my lap. She doesn’t resist, and my dick starts making plans. A girl stumbles past us, covering her mouth like she is about to puke, and Blair and I watch in combined horror and fascination as she moves like lightning into the house.

“Not exactly how I pictured our first date.”

“This is a date?” Her voice borders on panic.

“Kinda feels like one. We’re hanging out together, and I plan to try to kiss you at the end of the night.”

“No,” she states adamantly and turns to face me. “You don’t fall into a date. A date is planned . . . intentional.”

“That right?”

“Yes.” She leans back into me. “Now, ask me on a real date.”

I chuckle. “Ball buster.”

She shrugs, telling me she isn’t budging on the subject. Not that I mind, exactly, but I haven’t been on a real date since . . . well, I can’t remember, but it probably involved high school and a dark movie theater where I could try to cop a feel.

“Go out with me.”

It’s her turn to laugh. “Was that a question or a command?”

“Blair Olson, will you go out with me?”

She shrugs again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

This girl. “But, uh, even though this isn’t a real date, I’m still kissing you later.”

“Promise?” She turns her head to face me, bringing our lips inches apart.

I stare at her mouth as she moistens her lips like she’s waiting for me to make a move. Instead of answering with words, I capture her face with both hands and pull her to me. What I’d planned to be a quick kiss—a taste of the promise I made—turns serious fast. There’s nothing quick or innocent when it comes to my response to this girl. She hums into my mouth, and I deepen the kiss, not giving any fucks about making out in the middle of a party.

My dick aches as she molds her body to mine and wraps her arms around my neck. We’re as close as we can get without lying down on the floor and going at it. I weigh that scenario out in my head before breaking the kiss. “Think we should probably go back upstairs if you want to continue this.”

Pleas say yes. Please say yes. Yep, I’m cool as a cucumber on the outside but straight up begging on the inside. Her eyes dart from my mouth to the party, taking in what we’ve done and where we are. She looks more stunned than embarrassed, but then she pulls away and runs shaky fingertips across her lips.

“I should go.”

Well, hell.

“But pick me up tomorrow night for our date?”