I follow after her as she moves deeper into the inner workings of the stadium, the halls empty but a low murmur of voices coming from just down the way.

“Besides,” Lila goes on. “You’re his sister. You’re practically in nepo-baby territory.”

I snort. “Hardly.”

Sure, my relationship with Ian has gotten a lot better in the last few months since our dear old dad ran off to California, but I heavily doubt that I could start using his name to throw my weight around. Definitely not to be practically sneaking down to the locker rooms.

“We’re going to get in trouble,” I hiss.

Lila shakes her head. “No, we aren’t. Ian told me to bring him his phone. He forgot it back at the apartment.” She throws an arm around my shoulder—something that is a bit difficult since I’m at least four inches taller than her five foot four—giving me a slight shake. “Live a little, Abby.”

Live a little.

Seems like that’s the motto most of the people in my life choose for me. In my last year of grad school for psychology and doing my very best to keep my nose clean so that I don’t bring any more hardship to my brother than I already have, it’s not a concept that comes to me naturally. I’m more of the sit quietly in the corner type. It’s why I don’t really have a lot of friends.

I watch as Lila raises her fist to the slightly cracked locker room door, giving three heavy knocks before shouting, “If your balls are out, cover them up!”

And then she just blazes in.

Ever since meeting Lila, I’ve admired her ability to run headfirst through anything standing in her way; this is also not a concept that comes naturally to me. Hence I remain outside the door, lingering against the wall.

“Brought your lucky jockstrap, Cupcake!” I hear her shout.

She’s met with an answering groan. “Phone,” Ian says. “She brought me my phone.”

“Whatever you say,” she hums.

I hear a series of whoops then, and assume she’s kissing him. I assume this because it seems like the two of them can’t be within four feet of each other without planting one on the other. And since I’ve been at their place every week for dinner for the last few months, I have been privy to a lot of kisses.

Animals, those two are. Animals.

I lean on the wall and let my head thunk back against it as I shut my eyes, letting the voices from the other room fade into the background as I mentally check off all the homework I need to get to tonight. Truthfully, I probably shouldn’t have come to Ian’s game, given how much work I need to get done, but I’d been so damned excited that he’d even thought to invite me, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

Before this year, my brother had been more of an idea rather than an actual person. I hadn’t seen him in six years, and when we spoke on the phone—which was rare—it was stilted and awkward and not at all flowing with any sort of familial bond. It’s not entirely his fault. I never knew what to say to him either. With the weight of all our father had done hanging over our heads—having me in secret out of wedlock, dumping me on Ian’s doorstep after my mom died—and with the guilt of knowing that I’d practically ruined his life there for a while, it was easy to let myself sink into the background. Easier for everyone, honestly.

I still haven’t really gotten used to being out in the light.

“Whatchya hiding out there for?” I hear a very familiar, very aggravating voice say from my right. “Afraid you’ll see something in here you won’t be able to forget?”

I crack open one eye, taking in the boyish grin flashing back at me, complete with an all-around perfect face that might make me swoon if I didn’t know what a shit he was.

Jack Baker is the epitome of a playboy no-no. He’s flirty, flighty, and the definition of a fuckboy—and there’s nothing I like more than wiping that grin off his face. His big brown eyes and shaggy hair of a similar shade might inspire some to trip over themselves, but all I see is my dad in a slightly sweeter package. I’m sure he has a new woman every week, and I’ll be damned if I ever put myself on the roster.

“Nah,” I say back. “Don’t worry. Forgot my microscope, so no danger here.”

He just grins wider, undeterred. The dick. “I love when you talk dirty to me,” he sighs. “But you’d need a telescope, not a microscope.”

I cock my head, my nose wrinkling. “What?”

“Because,” he says, leaning in a little closer, “it’s as big as a planet.”

He steps out into the hall, clad in nothing but his compression gear, which means that I can see every outline of his very cut body and if I were to look down—which I won’t—I’m sure I would see ample evidence of his claims.

“God,” I groan. “You really are the worst.”

“I like to think of myself as adorably misunderstood.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“So why are you hiding in the hall? Didn’t want to come say hi?”

I shrug. “I’m not even sure I’m supposed to be down here. I get Lila, but I’m…Well. Just trying to keep out of trouble.”

“No one cares,” Jack laughs. “Come say hi.”

“I’m fine here.”

His brow lifts. “You’re extra grumpy looking today.”

“Yeah, well. I’m sleeping on a shitty twin bed every night, and I’ve got more coursework than I know what to do with. Excuse me if I don’t look camera ready.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re still hot.” He cringes. “In an Ian way. I meant you look tired.”

“I don’t even know how to process what you just said.”

“Well, you’re like, really hot, but you also look a little like Ian. It’s confusing. I mean, I consider myself to be sexually open to anything, but thinking about Ian naked is weird.”

“Why would you think about Ian naked?”

“Because you look like Ian, and if I thought about you naked, eventually my brain would substitute Ian’s face for yours, and that would be really weird for everyone.” He frowns. “Damn it, now I’m thinking about Ian naked. I’ve seen it enough in the locker room, thank you very much.”

“God, you’re weird,” I tell him. “And don’t think about me naked.”

“I’m not weird, I’m medicated,” he says. “And sorry, too late.”

“You know that little voice that tells you when you should keep your thoughts to yourself?”

He shakes his head. “Never had one. They don’t make meds strong enough for that, apparently.”

“Are you out here harassing my sister?”

Ian pokes his head through the doorway, frowning in Jack’s direction.

Jack raises his hands in an innocent gesture. “Who, me? I would never. It’s not like I have any sort of score to settle. It’s not as if my best friend started boinking my sister and then just continued on and made it a habit.”

“Did you take your meds today?”

Jack looks thoughtful. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Go get dressed and leave Abby alone.”

“Fine, fine,” he relents. “But Abby loves our banter. It’s part of our meet-cute.”

“There is no meet-cute,” I argue. “I met you months ago.”

“It’s all about the endgame, baby,” he teases.

Ian shoos him away, shoving him back into the locker room before stepping out into the hall with Lila in tow. “He’s determined to punish Lila and me by being as insufferable as he can to you, isn’t he?”

“That does seem to be the case,” I agree.

Lila pats Ian’s shoulder. “Abby and I are going to grab some food before the game starts, but we’ll be back before the face-off, okay?”

“I’ll be looking for you,” Ian hums, leaning in to press his lips to Lila’s.

I avert my eyes. Knowing them, there’s always a fifty-fifty chance that they’ll kiss longer than is appropriate for being in public. Thankfully, they cut this one short.

Doesn’t stop Lila from slapping Ian on the ass.

“See you soon, Cupcake,” she says sweetly, watching as Ian shoots me a wink before he walks back into the locker room, laughing as his teammates start jeering him.