Page 51 of Break Points and Face Offs

His feet actually leave the court for a second. A rush of admiration sets me off balance, and when the ball flies across the net, I move to return it … and fall flat on my face.

The car ride home isn’t fun. I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You can stop that now.”

“Stop what?” he asks. Gah, that faux innocent tone drives me crazy.

“Can I at least call you Rosie again yet?”

“Not until we get back to Princeton.”

“Fine.”

He chuckles. “You’re such a caveman sometimes.”

I don’t even justify that with a response.

He’s humming to himself, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“Do you have a victory song?” I ask. I’d rather listen to music, even if it is Priestley’s gloating song, than his stupid, tuneless humming.

“A what?”

“You know, a song you play in the locker room when you win?”

“No.”

Did he tense up at that?

“Why not?”

“The guys used to play music in the locker room, but I thought it was a distraction.”

“Wow, you must have been popular.”

When I turn to look at him, he’s definitely tensing his jaw.

“I was keeping us on track,” he mutters.

“Wanna hear my victory song?”

Why am I trying to cheer him up? He just beat me.

“It’s your car.”

Actually, it’s not, but close enough.

I take my phone out of my pocket and press play on a playlist titled, ‘Victory.’

Priestley side-eyes me as the intro to the first song starts to play.

“Fall Out Boy?”

I laugh, feeling suddenly giddy. I must be remembering the adrenaline in the locker room after a big win.

“Can’t believe you actually know who this is,” I say.

“I do listen to music.”