Page 30 of False Catch

His eyebrows rise. "That's rough. What for?"

"Team dynamics affecting performance, apparently."

"Ah." He nods knowingly. "Let me guess - Gray's being territorial about you joining the team?"

The accuracy of the guess surprises me. "Something like that. What's your deal with him anyway?"

Quinton sighs, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, he looks genuinely uncomfortable.

"We were best friends at prep school. Exeter. Inseparable, actually. Then junior year, this girl transferred in. Sophia." He smiles ruefully. "We both fell for her. Hard. She chose me, and it... it destroyed our friendship. Gray took it as a betrayal."

"That seems extreme."

"Gray doesn't do anything halfway," Quinton says. "When he commits to something - friendship, rivalry, hatred - he's all in. Anyway, Sophia moved to California end of junior year. Broke both our hearts, but the damage between Gray and me was done."

I study his face, looking for signs of deception, but he seems sincere.

"That's why I tried to talk to him earlier," he continues. "Clear the air. I asked if there was anything between you two because..." He pauses, meeting my eyes. "I'm interested, Reese. And I don't want history repeating itself."

My cheeks heat. "I'm not really looking to date right now."

"Fair enough." He accepts it easily, no pressure. "But if you change your mind, the offer stands. Now, should we talk about Southeast Asian emerging markets before Professor Hawthorne wonders why we have no research?"

The subject change is smooth, respectful. He doesn't push, doesn't make it awkward. Just opens his laptop and starts pulling up articles about Myanmar's economic development.

We work for what feels like minutes but must be hours. Quinton is surprisingly funny, making dry comments about economic indicators that actually make me laugh. He's smart too, connecting concepts I wouldn't have thought to link. For the first time since arriving at Sable Ridge, I'm just a college student working on a project. Not an Omega hiding her designation. Not a coxswain managing Alpha dynamics. Just... Reese.

"Oh shit," Quinton says suddenly, looking at his phone. "It's almost six."

I check my own phone to find twelve unread messages in the team group chat.

Bo: Where are you?

Zane: Dinner's ready

Tyler: ETA?

Bo: Seriously, you okay?

Jackson: Who has eyes on Callahan?

Gray: She's at the library.

Beckett: It's been three hours

Eli: Someone should check

Cameron: I'll go

Gray: No. She's fine.

Bo: Reese, text back when you see this

Zane: Getting worried here

"I need to go," I say, already packing up.

"The guys?" Quinton asks, glancing at my phone. "They're protective."