Page 47 of Hating On Riot

“Just to be sure we’re speaking about the same person. Your height. Blonde. Persistent. Nosy.”

“Judgey some?” I call him out.

He scowls. “Not sure why you let her finagle you into playing one of her ridiculous games.”

I shrug. “Because it’s our last year of college. Because I might not see her again after we graduate. Because she’s persistent.”

He smirks. “You know what I don’t get about her?”

I stay quiet.

Riot looks focused, and I make sure I don't say anything that will take us down a different train of thought. I’m interested in what he has to say. I did let her convince me to play this blind date game of hers, but she can’t possibly be doing it out of the goodness of her heart, right?

Who has the time to be this nice when we’re all in some kind of rat race? Do I have enough credits to graduate on time? What else do I need on my resume to get a job straight out of college, and a decent-paying one that’ll help me pay for my own place? Isn’t Hope in the same boat? Riot talks, and I listen, though my eyelids are getting heavy.

“She showed up for every game, home or away, when we played Montgomery. I figured she was dating one of the Monty boys. I mean, she didn’t pay any attention to us Alexi kids except to wave to the boys she and Em used to hang out with. But none of the Monty players acknowledged her as their girl. No one pulled her into their arms or walked her to her car. Nothing. Nada.”

His bed is soft but firm. The bears in that story with the blonde girl would say it’s just right. The room temperature is just right too. Not too cold or too hot. My head on his lap fits perfectly too. His heat, his musk, everything about Riot is just right.

“Are you saying Hope had a crush on someone from Montgomery’s basketball team?” I’m too sleepy to process what he said. Or was it Riot? Is it Riot?

She said karma was a bitch. Is she the bitch, and is karma her way of getting back at me for being with him? But Riot and I didn’t start hanging out until after she convinced me to play her blind matchmaking game. It has to be a Montgomery player. Why else would she make the four-hour drive from Montgomery to Alexandria to watch an away game?

“Cooper played for Montgomery High.”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a cutting smirk. “Don’t remind me. That friend of yours fouled me multiple times on purpose, trying to rile me up so I’d smash him in the face and get thrown out of the game.”

Unfortunately, the guy he’s describing matches up with my BFF.

Cooper is uber competitive and can play dirty. I shake my head. That boy of mine will one day get his comeuppance when he finally has his come-to-Jesus moment with this girl he’s obsessed with.

That boy of mine? I sigh. I’ve been hanging around the guys too long.

Only two more days until we start Nerf War. Technically, it’s already tomorrow, with my phone showing one-thirty. Then we have a week to play.

With our team’s strategizing, we should be able to tag our opponents within three days. After our win, I’ll pack up and head back to my empty house until my brothers finish renovating the one in Alexandria. They’ll never know I spent time living with Riot. Easy peasy.

Will I see the guys from the house again? None of them are in my classes. Will they forget about me? Out of sight, out of mind? How will I keep seeing Riot once I’m back in the house I share with my brothers?

What do I say if they catch us?

A hand waves in front of me.

I blink, having zoned out. “Sorry,” I mumble. “What were you saying again?”

“I said it’s not just Coop from the team at DU. A bunch of the guys chose DU over MU. It could be any of them she had a lady-boner for.”

Has, not had. Still does. That’s what my gut is telling me.

Lady-boner? I roll my eyes. He jerks his head at the headboard. “Stretch out.”

Distracted by trying to remember what Cooper said while wasted, something about a blonde, I absentmindedly do as Riot says. I sit and scoot to the middle of the bed, my back against the headboard. Riot rests his head on my lap and stretches out his long legs. They dangle off the edge of the bed. That can’t be comfortable.

Rather than telling him to change position so his legs aren’t hanging off, I scoot to the other side of the bed. He moves with me. He must be just as distracted, but by what?

“Better?” I look down at him. Chiseled jawline. Sharp nose. Full lips. Tan skin from practicing in the sun. He’s so handsome.

“Much.” He twists my hair around his fingers, brings the strands to his face, and inhales.