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"You literally just made a drink."

"And I'm already planning my next one,” I said. “I'm a forward thinker. Very strategic. You should appreciate that about me."

Cam stared at me. I stared back. The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I genuinely couldn't tell if we were about to start yelling or start laughing.

The sound of the front door opening saved us both. Voices filled the entryway, loud and laughing.

"Oh good, Destiny and the girls are here," Trish said, heading to greet them.

Three women swept into the kitchen in a wave of energy and athletic wear. I recognized Destiny from seeing her on the court with Cam—tall, dark-skinned, with long braids pulled up in a high ponytail and the kind of smile that could sell toothpaste commercials.

"Yo, Captain!" she called out, immediately grabbing Cam in a side hug that Cam tolerated with only minimal stiffness. "Trish said you actually showed up to a social event. I didn't believe her."

"I'm here," Cam said flatly.

"Barely. You look like you're planning your escape route."

"I always plan my escape route. It's called being prepared."

"It's called being antisocial." Destiny turned to me, eyes bright with curiosity. "And you must be Harper. Mia's best friend. Trish has told us all about you."

"Uh oh. Should I be worried?"

"Only if you're planning to start another fight with Cap here. We've got money on how long before you two go at it again." Destiny grinned. "I've got twenty bucks says you make it through the night without bloodshed."

"I'm a lady. I don't do bloodshed at social events. I do cutting remarks and strategic emotional damage."

"Oh, I like her," one of the other women said. She was shorter, maybe 5'10", with blonde hair in a pixie cut and freckles scattered across pale skin. "I'm Morgan, shooting guard. That's Alex." She pointed to the third woman, who had warm brown skin, short natural hair, and was already raiding the appetizer tray. "She plays forward and eats like she's personally offended by the concept of food remaining uneaten."

"It's a gift," Alex said around a mouthful of cheese.

Laine chose that moment to sweep into the kitchen, looking like she'd stepped off a runway, and kissed Mia completely breathless. Ugh.

"Sorry I’m late," Laine said, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "Traffic was a nightmare."

"You live like twelve minutes away," Trish said.

"And yet. Traffic. A nightmare." Laine grabbed a glass, made herself a drink, and assessed the room with those sharp matchmaker eyes that missed nothing. "Oh good. Harper and Cam are already fighting. This is going to be a fun evening."

"We're not fighting," Cam said.

"We're bonding," I added. "Through mutual antagonism. It's very healthy."

"That's not what healthy looks like," Mia said, frowning.

"Says who? I have a therapist. She'd probably approve."

"She absolutely would not approve."

"You don't know that. You're not in my sessions."

"I know you, and I know this is not what she meant by 'finding healthy ways to express conflict.'"

"Agree to disagree." I grabbed the vodka bottle and made myself another drink. "So. Games. What fresh hell has Isla planned for us all?"

Isla appeared in the doorway like she'd been summoned. "Pictionary."

"No,” I said immediately. My drawing skills were frighteningly abysmal.