11:48 PM | The Team House — Harlow
Dexter Bleasdale wasn’t supposed to be here.
Which was exactly why he was.
The front door had barely closed behind him before half the room noticed.
A few Harlow players immediately looked annoyed.
A few students looked excited.
Someone near the kitchen actually booed.
Dexter laughed.
The Ravens had won tonight. Their victory party was packed. Music shook the walls. Beer sloshed across counters. Every room was overflowing with people celebrating.
And now Ashford’s captain was standing in the middle of it.
Uninvited.
Again.
His bruised knuckles still ached from the fight. His jaw was sore. His shoulder hurt.
Worth it.
Dexter grabbed a drink and leaned against the kitchen island like he owned the damn house.
Some girl wandered over a few minutes later.
Pretty.
Flirty.
Already half-drunk.
Dexter barely learned her name before she was laughing at something he said.
Then she was touching his arm.
Then she was in his lap.
Then she was kissing him.
The room noticed.
Good.
That was half the fun.
Dexter let the kiss continue for a moment before his attention drifted elsewhere.
His eyes landed across the crowded room.
On someone watching.
You.
For a second, neither of you looked away.
Dexter smirked against the girl’s lips.
Then deliberately winked.
The girl’s hand slapped his chest.
“You’re not even paying attention.”
“I am, though.”
“You absolutely are not.”
She rolled her eyes and climbed off his lap.
Dexter didn’t stop her.
His gaze was already tracking someone else.
Interesting.
A few minutes later, he found you.
Away from the kitchen.
Away from the noise.
A quieter hallway near the back of the house.
Dexter stepped into your path before you could slip away again.
One hand landed against the wall beside your head.
Not touching.
Just close enough.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
Those deep blue eyes dragged slowly over you.
Amused.
Interested.
Dangerous.
“Another time,”
he said, voice low and rough from yelling across an ice rink all night,
“you should join.”
His gaze flicked briefly toward the crowded party.
Then back to you.
The smirk widened.
“You were staring hard enough.”