I’m halfway through lacing my sneakers when a knock rattles the door. Three sharp raps that make me roll my eyes and could only come from one person in this house.
“Hold your horses, Hayes,” I mutter, grabbing my phone and wallet before stepping over an empty Gatorade bottle that rolls under the bed.
I pull open the door and stop when I see Nathan Hayes standing in front of me.
Six-foot-three of muscle. My gaze snags when I glance down at his forearms, crossed tight over his chest, veins visible under rolled-up sleeves—probably lingering a little too long.
His eyes flick down, then back up, and his mouth flattens. “You’re going out.”
I grin. “You got all that just from looking at me? Impressive.”
He doesn’t reply, just arches his brow, but I can’t help it. My lips curve into a smirk. It’s too fun to watch him squirm.
“We have a game tomorrow,” he says flatly. “And practice at six.”
I drop onto the edge of the bed and grab my other sneaker. “Relax,Dad. I’ll be home before curfew. Want to tuck me in, too?”
He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, the movement lifting his hoodie just enough to show a flash of the lean, disciplined muscle underneath.
So unfair.
“You were late last week,” he says, voice flat.
I finish tying my laces and lean back on my hands, letting my gaze drag up his frame. “You keeping stats on me now?” My grin curves. “Cute.”
His nostrils flare. God, he’s wound up so tight I’m shocked he hasn’t combusted mid-practice.
“You need to start taking shit seriously.”
I reach past him, brushing his arm, and grab my leather jacket from the hook behind the door.
“Iamtaking it seriously,” I say, shrugging into the jacket. I catch my reflection in the mirror and rake a hand through my hair. “I haven’t been late a single day this week. Haven’t missed a drill. Haven’t had a drink. In bed before midnight, like a goddamn Boy Scout. God forbid I want to have a little fun on the weekend.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror, seeing him sigh a little.
“C’mon,” I add, slipping my phone into my back pocket. “Don’t tell me you’ve never partied a little.”
He doesn’t answer, just huffs a little, which makes me chuckle.
“I can get you on the list, you know. One little smile, and I’ll make it happen.”
Nothing. Not even a twitch. If I flirted with a brick wall, I’d probably get more reaction.
“Do what you want, Logan,” he says finally. “Just don’t be late tomorrow. And don’t drag the rest of us down because you can’t get your act together.”
Nathan’s always had that look about him, like he’s carrying the whole damn team on his back. I can see it in his shoulders, inthe way his jaw locks during a tie game. Ryan’s the captain, but Hayes is the one they all count on. The one who can’t screw up. Especially being Coach’s son.
But I can’t help but test him. “Hey, Hayes?”
He pauses in the doorway, head tilting slightly over his shoulder.
I let my gaze sweep down his back. “If you change your mind about the tucking-in thing…” My grin slips into a smirk. “You know where I sleep.”
He just exhales sharply, mutters something under his breath that sounds a whole lot likepain in my ass, and turns.
But his ears are bright fucking red and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as he closes the door behind him.
I should feel smug and satisfied, like I usually do when I get under his skin, but instead, I just stand there, watching the space he left behind, his words repeating themselves in my head when the door swings shut.