Shit. Here it was. An honest-to-God video of Dani cradled in Zaf’s arms, staring at him like she wanted to eat him for lunch. Which was certainly accurate, but not exactly something she’d expected to find splashed across the internet.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I thought you were joking.”
“Nope!” Eve said cheerfully.
“This has over thirty thousand views!”
“Yep!” Eve sounded delighted.
Dani checked the comments, feeling as if she’d stumbled into some sort of alternate dimension.
Dani stared. “Dr. Rugbae? I have never heard anything so inane or inaccurate in my life.”
“You have a hashtag!” Eve crowed.
“I’m not even a doctor.”
“Let me see!” Chloe demanded.
“Rugbae? Zaf is going to die.”
Eve snatched the phone and took it to Chloe while Dani sprawled out on the floor and filed through a sudden influx of new thoughts. Zaf was a famous sports-type person? Famous enough that people recognized him in viral videos? He did talk about rugby a lot, but she tended to zone out during those conversations, so she’d never given it much thought. And, speaking of viral videos—was this ludicrous happening another sign that she should abandon her doubts and introduce Zaf to the wonders of her bedroom, her boobs, and her three-speed vibrator? Perhaps, but she was struggling to move past the disturbing fact that people seemed to think he and Dani were dating.
Of course, that assumption didn’t mean anything. It was just heteronormative bullshit, a societal compulsion to thrust independent and perfectly happy individuals together in a socially accepted way, so they could become vulnerable before ultimately growing too familiar with each other’s flaws and engaging in destructive behavior that would result in the heart of at least one party being crushed. Behavior such as, for example, shagging their neighbor and blaming it on their girlfriend’s supposed inattentiveness.
Or something.
“This is incredibly impressive,” Chloe murmured, her eyes glued to the video. “Please tell me you’re sleeping with this man.”
Dani sighed, pressing her cheek against the carpet. “Not yet, but the universe seems to think I should be.” She considered something awful. “If he wants to, that is. Which I suppose he might not.”
“Oh, he definitely wants to.” Chloe was clearly thrilled.
“He looks like Superman flying Lewis Lane to safety,” Eve piped up. “Only, you know, he’s not flying.”
“Lois Lane,” Dani corrected.
“No,” Eve said serenely. “I’m quite sure it’s Lewis.”
“I still can’t believe he rescued you from a lift,” Chloe was saying, one hand pressed to her cardigan-covered chest, her lashes fluttering rapidly. “Gosh, look at his face. Look at your face! You two are electric.”
“Chemistry,” Eve said wisely. “Or is it physics?”
“No, you were right the first time. Oh, Danika, look at this. No, don’t be awkward, look. His hand is on your thigh.”
“I’m not looking.” Dani didn’t need to; she remembered the feeling perfectly well. If she watched and remembered at the same time, she’d probably come over all . . . silly. And then she, like her sisters, might lose the ability to speak in anything other than italics.
“He’s very sturdy, isn’t he?” Eve asked.
“He’s massive,” Chloe agreed. “And strong.”
Chloe’s boyfriend, Red, appeared in the doorway with an indignant frown on his handsome face. “Hey. I feel like you’re forgetting that time I rescued you from a tree.”
“You didn’t carry me out of the tree in your arms,” Chloe said, her eyes still pinned to the phone in her hand, that damned video on a loop.
“And how the hell was I meant to do that? You were up a tree.”
“Don’t be jealous, darling.”
“Now, why would I be jealous?” Red walked behind the sofa and slid his hands over Chloe’s shoulders. Dani watched with no little awe as her hyperfocused older sister dropped the phone and giggled—giggled!—while Red whispered in her ear.
What an absolutely sickening display. Romance clearly melted the brains of sensible women. Dani was horribly glad she had nothing to do with it.
“All right,” Red announced. “I’m going to Vik’s. I filled Smudge’s bowl. See you later.” He grinned at Dani and Eve, then looked at his girlfriend again. His voice took on a low, steady warmth that made even Dani feel slightly wobbly inside. “Behave yourself, Button.”
Lord.
When he was gone, Eve gave a little shriek. “That man is so—”
“Never mind Redford,” Chloe said briskly. “Danika has a lot to tell us about her soon-to-be-husband.”
Dani’s stomach lurched. “Ugh. No. Relax. I just want to sleep with him.” The word husband gave her hives. As if romantic relationships weren’t impossible enough without the extra pressure of a bloody legal contract.
“Well, make sure he wraps it up, because people are already naming your children. And their suggestions are atrocious.” Chloe gave a delicate shudder. “Blitz, indeed.”
Dani gaped. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not surprised they’re getting overexcited,” Eve said. “It’s the way he looks at you.”
Though she predicted she would regret it, Dani bit. “And how does he look at me?”
“Like he wouldn’t mind sleeping in a pile of your dirty laundry.” Eve arched her eyebrows, running her tongue over her purple upper lip. The lipstick clashed with her pink braids and scarlet T-shirt, which read, IN MY DEFENSE, I WAS LEFT UNSUPERVISED.
Dani stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know that feeling,” Eve said, “when you truly adore someone and also want to sniff their underwear?”
Dani stared some more. “No. No, I do not.”
“Chloe, you must know that feeling.”
“No comment,” Chloe said.
“Okay, let me rephrase: when you truly adore someone and also want to bury your face between their legs for eternity.”
“Oh,” Chloe said brightly, “that feeling.”
“If his eyes were penises,” Eve went on wisely, “you would be pregnant. With twins.”
Dani wrinkled her nose. “Evie, that’s disgusting.”
“Or is it?”
As one, Chloe and Dani replied, “Yes.”
CHAPTER FOUR
That evening, Zaf watched thirty-odd breathless lads drop like flies at the end of their training session. Mondays were for conditioning, and conditioning meant sweat.
Fighting a grin, he grabbed one boy’s inhaler from his pocket and held it up. “Usman. You good?”
Uzzy nodded
