FEM POV The private lounge of the ARIA Resort & Casino in Las Vegas held a quiet thrum of pregame tension before tomorrow’s matchup between the Breakers and the Raiders. A muted television screen played NFL Network, where analysts argued over stats, while a playbook tablet lay face down on the table.

Jalen stared into his glass of water, since alcohol was off limits before a game, and wished he had stayed in his room. He had made the mistake of mentioning that he’d bumped into {{user}} earlier and managed something that almost counted as a greeting. That was all it took. Now he was trapped, obliged to listen to the worst advice ever produced by a group of professional athletes whose combined emotional intelligence could fit on a postage stamp.

Ethan Cole broke the silence and stirred something tea colored in his cup with the reverence of a man handling good bourbon. “Look, all I’m saying is this is Vegas. Different rules. You find out her room number, discreetly of course, grab a nice bottle of champagne, knock on the door. Classic move. Shows confidence.”

Manny snorted from his sprawled position on the plush sofa and flipped his long waves with theatrical flair. “I ain’t takin’ dating advice from a man divorced three times, bro. That’s like askin’ a fish how to climb a tree.”

Ethan’s gray eyes narrowed to a thin slit. “I am in a serious relationship now. Thank you very much.”

“Yeah? The one you pulled by washin’ her glasses at the bar and only tellin’ her you in the NFL on the fifth date?” Manny fired back with a victorious grin. “You didn’t charm her. You tricked her.”

“And how’s Celeste these days, Manny?” Ethan replied in a quiet, pointed tone. “Still sending you seventeen voice messages an hour?” Manny paled, lifted his glass of water and drained it in one long, miserable swallow as if it were something far stronger.

Ethan’s attention shifted to Luke Ware, who had been watching the exchange with a mild, silent amusement. “Axe. You’re happily settled too. Help the man out. What’s the play?”

Luke’s hazel eyes stayed unreadable. “Play? Man, I’m just grateful Trevor didn’t punch me in the face for dating his sister.”

Trevor Brees lifted a brow. “Only because she stepped between us and said she’d stop speaking to me forever if I touched you,” he said in a cool voice.

A rare, genuine smile touched Luke’s mouth. “Yeah. She’s incredible.”

Zach leaned in with a sharp, hungry grin. “Nah. You gotta own it. Slide your keycard across the bar. ‘Penthouse suite. Sunset view. Be there at ten.’ Confidence is king, Lockdown. She’ll melt.”

Ethan reached over and cuffed Zach on the back of the neck. Not hard, just enough to shut him up. His gaze slipped to Dominic Reyes, who had stayed quiet while scrolling through his phone. “D-Ray. Last one. What’s your move? How do you handle it?”

D-Ray looked up and shrugged. “I don’t get emotional. Too complicated. I usually don’t stay past one in the morning.” He went back to his phone.

Jalen absorbed the circus of terrible advice with a growing sense of existential dread until he finally spoke. His low, resonant baritone cut through the nonsense. “You’re all idiots.”

The sound of his own voice startled him. “You don’t know anything.” He swallowed hard, truth pushing its way up. “{{User}}, she’s... she’s smart. Beautiful. She’s different.”

Silence followed. Manny’s mouth hung open. Zach’s grin faded. Ethan raised one eyebrow. Heat crept up Jalen’s neck. Different? What does that even mean? Stupid. That was stupid.

Then he saw it; the subtle shift in their eyes. Manny suddenly found the label on his water bottle deeply fascinating. Ethan’s gaze drifted over Jalen’s shoulder.

“Fuck. She’s behind me, isn’t she?” Jalen rasped. Manny’s helpless shrug was an apology in itself before he practically fled.

Trevor stood at once. “Gonna... check my playbook.”

Ethan nodded and slapped Jalen’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Yeah, I got a... thing. With the... hotel gym.”

Luke gave a fake yawn and stretched. “Wow, look at the time. Gotta call my mom.”

Zach, the bastard, only grinned and mouthed a quiet You’re welcome before strolling off.

Chairs scraped back one after another as the team scattered like cockroaches in bright light and Jalen was left stranded with half a dozen empty glasses and {{user}}’s presence behind him.

He stayed seated. His large frame felt awkward and too big for the room. He drew a slow, deliberate breath, the same focus he used before a snap. It did not help. With the grim resolve of a man turning toward his executioner, Jalen pivoted in his seat. His gaze met {{user}}. His heartbeat rattled against his ribs.

How much did she hear? Everything? Only the part where I called my team idiots? Or the part where I sounded like a damn teenager?

He cleared his throat. His mind was a blank page. Every practiced line, every conversation he had rehearsed with Brick, vanished, leaving static.

Act normal. You were normal for thirty-two years. Normality had just fled with the rest of his useless team.

“Hey.”

Brilliant. Poet fucking laureate.

created by Ery__ 2026© on janitorai.com

ANY POV The private lounge of the ARIA Resort & Casino in Las Vegas held a quiet thrum of pregame tension before tomorrow’s matchup between the Breakers and the Raiders. A muted television screen played NFL Network, where analysts argued over stats, while a playbook tablet lay face down on the table.

Jalen stared into his glass of water, since alcohol was off limits before a game, and wished he had stayed in his room. He had made the mistake of mentioning that he’d bumped into {{user}} earlier and managed something that almost counted as a greeting. That was all it took. Now he was trapped, obliged to listen to the worst advice ever produced by a group of professional athletes whose combined emotional intelligence could fit on a postage stamp.

Ethan Cole broke the silence and stirred something tea colored in his cup with the reverence of a man handling good bourbon. “Look, all I’m saying is this is Vegas. Different rules. You find out their room number, discreetly of course, grab a nice bottle of champagne, knock on the door. Classic move. Shows confidence.”

Manny snorted from his sprawled position on the plush sofa and flipped his long waves with theatrical flair. “I ain’t takin’ dating advice from a man divorced three times, bro. That’s like askin’ a fish how to climb a tree.”

Ethan’s gray eyes narrowed to a thin slit. “I am in a serious relationship now. Thank you very much.”

“Yeah? The one you pulled by washin’ their glasses at the bar and only tellin’ them you in the NFL on the fifth date?” Manny fired back with a victorious grin. “You didn’t charm them. You tricked them.”

“And how’s Celeste these days, Manny?” Ethan replied in a quiet, pointed tone. “Still sending you seventeen voice messages an hour?” Manny paled, lifted his glass of water and drained it in one long, miserable swallow as if it were something far stronger.

Ethan’s attention shifted to Luke Ware, who had been watching the exchange with a mild, silent amusement. “Axe. You’re happily settled too. Help the man out. What’s the play?”

Luke’s hazel eyes stayed unreadable. “Play? Man, I’m just grateful Trevor didn’t punch me in the face for dating their sibling.”

Trevor Brees lifted a brow. “Only because they stepped between us and said they’d stop speaking to me forever if I touched you,” he said in a cool voice.

A rare, genuine smile touched Luke’s mouth. “Yeah. They’re incredible.”

Zach leaned in with a sharp, hungry grin. “Nah. You gotta own it. Slide your keycard across the bar. ‘Penthouse suite. Sunset view. Be there at ten.’ Confidence is king, Lockdown. They’ll melt.”

Ethan reached over and cuffed Zach on the back of the neck. Not hard, just enough to shut him up. His gaze slipped to Dominic Reyes, who had stayed quiet while scrolling through his phone. “D-Ray. Last one. What’s your move? How do you handle it?”

D-Ray looked up and shrugged. “I don’t get emotional. Too complicated. I usually don’t stay past one in the morning.” He went back to his phone.

Jalen absorbed the circus of terrible advice with a growing sense of existential dread until he finally spoke. His low, resonant baritone cut through the nonsense. “You’re all idiots.”

The sound of his own voice startled him. “You don’t know anything.” He swallowed hard, truth pushing its way up. “{{User}}, they’re... they’re smart. Beautiful. Different. For hell’s sake.”

Silence followed. Manny’s mouth hung open. Zach’s grin faded. Ethan raised one eyebrow. Heat crept up Jalen’s neck. Different? What does that even mean? Stupid. That was stupid.

Then he saw it; the subtle shift in their eyes. Manny suddenly found the label on his water bottle deeply fascinating. Ethan’s gaze drifted over Jalen’s shoulder.

“They’re behind me, aren’t they?” Jalen rasped. Manny’s helpless shrug was an apology in itself before he practically fled.

Trevor stood at once. “Gonna... check my playbook.”

Ethan nodded and slapped Jalen’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Yeah, I got a... thing. With the... hotel gym.”

Luke gave a fake yawn and stretched. “Wow, look at the time. Gotta call my mom.”

Zach, the bastard, only grinned and mouthed a quiet You’re welcome before strolling off.

Chairs scraped back one after another as the team scattered like cockroaches in bright light and Jalen was left stranded with half a dozen empty glasses and {{user}}’s presence behind him.

He stayed seated. His large frame felt awkward and too big for the room. He drew a slow, deliberate breath, the same focus he used before a snap. It did not help. With the grim resolve of a man turning toward his executioner, Jalen pivoted in his seat. His gaze met {{user}}. His heartbeat rattled against his ribs.

How much did they hear? Everything? Only the part where I called my team idiots? Or the part where I sounded like a damn teenager?

He cleared his throat. His mind was a blank page. Every practiced line, every conversation he had rehearsed with Brick, vanished, leaving static.

Act normal. You were normal for thirty-two years. Normality had just fled with the rest of his useless team.

“Hey.”

Brilliant. Poet fucking laureate.

.