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“Oh, really,” the mention of a hot guy grabs her attention, and she leans against the kitchen door. “Like he needs something to make his ego bigger.”

“Right?” I take a bite of burrito and add, “Oh, and apparently, Reid Wilder has a severe case of blue balls.”

That really grabs her, and she lifts an eyebrow. “That means he and Darla broke up.”

I shrug and turn on the TV, ready to settle into a relaxing night of true crime. “I guess.”

She gets quiet, and I look away from the screen to see her scrolling on her phone. Probably looking for proof of the breakup.

“She unfollowed him on Chattysnap.”

“There you go.” The dating lives of the players is the least of my concerns. It’s a revolving door and I learned quickly not to take their interest in anyone seriously. I find an episode of Murders and Mayhem and press play. Leaning back, I sense Nadia watching me and I look up again. She’s not just watching me. Her big brown eyes are all droopy and pathetic.

Dammit.

“Nadia, no.”

“You know he’s in my top five.”

“No,”I say again, firmly. “You promised.”

There’s no other way to put it; Nadia is a self-proclaimed jersey chaser. The kind of girl that has made it her mission to hook up with as many varsity level athletes as possible. She’s convinced one of these guys is going to be her prince charming, turning her into the wife of a professional athlete.

Little does she know, it’s the opposite. I hear the chatter in the locker room, how they feel about the puck bunnies that make it easy on them. Nadia is the type of girl they hook up with—but they don’t marry.

Because of our friendship, Nadia has kept her interests to mostly football and basketball players, maybe the occasional fling with someone from the baseball team if she’s feeling particularly degrading at the time. She’d, one thousand percent, be into hockey players, but once I started working with the team, I declared them off-limits.

There was no way I could look them in the eye, or sprained wrist, if I knew they were hooking up with my best friend.

“But…” she crosses the room and sits next to me, her bottom lip protruding in a pout.

“You know I love you, but I can’t have you sleeping your way through my team.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re sleeping with them.”

It’s not an insult. It’s the truth. “First of all, I can’t. I don’t want to compromise my position, and even if I wanted to, they think of me as a little brother—firmly reinforced today by Coach Green.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh no. What happened?”

“Nothing new.” I tell her about the team meeting and the fist bump and how Reese Cain said no one thinks of me as dateable.

“Reese said that?”

I nod, shuddering at the memory. “Then he called me ‘Sunshine.’”

Her nose wrinkles.

“Babe,” she throws her arm over my shoulder, “that isn’t even remotely true. You’re hot, in your own athletic shorts-wearing kind of way. You hide behind that tight ponytail and those heavy hoodies. They have no idea what you’re packing underneath.”

I squirm out from under her affection, tugging at my favorite hoodie that I’ve had since middle school, and give her the side-eye. “I like to be comfortable.”

“I know, but I also know you think it’s easier this way—keeping guys from noticing how freaking amazing you are.”

“That’s not exactly true.” It’s completely true. My past relationships with men weren’t the best and I’ve learned not to trust my instincts. Dressing down, playing invisible… it is easier.

She gives me a look that says she’s calling my bluff. The truth is I’m scared to follow my heart, but Nadia? She goes after exactly what she wants—for better or worse.

“I know what you’re doing,” I tell her.