Page 41 of False Catch

"I know."

"Torres knows too. She can't prove it yet, but she knows."

"Then we better get our shit together before she can." He glances at me. "You in or out, Blake? Can't keep one foot on the dock anymore."

He's right. The comfortable distance I've maintained is becoming a liability. Either I'm part of this, whatever this is becoming, or I'm not.

"You coming?" Jackson calls back.

I nod, jogging to catch up.

Whatever's happening to us, whatever we're becoming, I'm starting to think fighting it is pointless.

We're already too far gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Beckett

Sunday afternoons are supposed to be for recovery. Light stretching, maybe some easy cardio, definitely day drinking if you can get away with it. What they're not supposed to be for is hiding from the pheromone cocktail that our house has become.

"I need air," Gray announces after breakfast at The Griddle, where we all pretended everything was normal while Reese sat there smelling like Zane and sexual satisfaction.

"Same," I agree immediately. "Walk?"

He nods, and we head toward downtown without discussing it. Away from campus. Away from the house. Away from the overwhelming scent of Reese-plus-Zane that's making everyone twitchy.

"This is getting complicated," I say once we're clear of other students.

"It's been complicated since day one," Gray responds, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Yeah, but now it's..." I search for the right word. "Accelerating."

Gray doesn't respond, but his jaw tightens. He knows I'm right.

We end up at Riggs Coffee, the overpriced place that caters to trust fund kids and professors having affairs with grad students. It's usually safe from team drama on Sundays since most college students can't afford eight-dollar lattes.

Of course, the universe has other plans.

"Gray! Beckett!"

I turn to see Kinsley Adams approaching with her usual entourage - Olivia and Madison, the unholy trinity of the women's rowing team. They're dressed like they just came from yoga or pilates or whatever excuse they use to wear athletic wear that costs more than my textbooks.

"Ladies," I say with my trademark grin, though internally I'm calculating exit strategies.

"Haven't seen you around lately, Beckett," Kinsley says, sidling up to our table without invitation. "You used to be at every party."

"Season's getting serious," I deflect. "You know how it is."

"Mmm, I do." She turns her attention to Gray, and something shifts in her expression. Softer. More dangerous. "Hi, Gray."

"Kinsley."

The temperature drops about ten degrees. Madison and Olivia exchange looks, clearly enjoying the drama.

"Mind if we join you?" Kinsley asks, but she's already sliding into the booth next to Gray, close enough that their thighs touch. "We were just talking about the Spring Formal. You boys have dates yet?"

"Haven't thought about it," Gray says stiffly.