“Who’s the hottie?”

Miki sidles up beside me as the others gather around the black-haired interloper. The recruits were positively starstruck, a chorus of affirmations falling from their lips after that insane cut shot. I hadn’t even seen his approach. You’d think the guy could practically teleport with speed like that.

The man raises his head, revealing the red of his irises as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. His face was even more stunning than I’d given him credit for, with high cheekbones to match the cut of his jawline and thick brows resting over a hint of a hooded eye. His nose, straight as an arrow, had a slight hook that gave it balance with the rest of his countenance. Where in the world had he been hiding all this time?

“No clue,” I answer.

Another man, bearing a striking resemblance to the newcomer, appears behind him, whacking the back of his head. “How many times have I told you to wait your turn, Cass? You can’t just jump the line.”

The other man was maybe a few years older, with a slightly paler twinge to his skin, but not by much. I’d be utterly shocked to learn that they weren’t related, given the identical red hue of their eyes. They were similar enough to be brothers, in fact. His equally wavy black hair was tied into a bun, but looked long enough to reach at least his shoulders. He also had a strong jawline, but more square than diamond-shaped like his counterpart. However, just like the surprise hitter, he looked like he belonged on the front page of a Calvin Klein ad.

“It’s not my fault. You know damn well that was begging to be hit.” The hitter, Cass, as his brother called him, looks over to Dante. “Why haven’t you been setting like that this whole time?”

Dante scowls. “Don’t expect freakish things from me. I didn’t set that.”

Cass furrows his brow in confusion. “Who did then?”

“Let’s get started,” I call, cutting off whatever response they were cooking up. That set had been a fluke, borne out of a moment of pure spontaneity. There was no chance I could recreate it if he asked me to.

The freshman begrudgingly part with the mysterious hitter, following my sister and me as we duck under the net. Only one lingers behind, doing her best to catch the attention of Cass and his brother. She was one of the new setters that had joined us this recruiting season. The girl was bold; I’d give her that. I don’t think I would have had the same confidence to talk to someone that looked like that my freshman year.

Then again, she was pretty herself. Her brunette locks trailed in perfectly coiffed curls down her neck, loose bangs framing her heart-shaped face. She had wide, brown eyes, and pink lips that complimented the milky tone of her skin. Selene was her name, if I remembered that correctly. The foot Cass had on her only emphasized her daintiness. The two made quite a pair, I had to admit.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the patience to watch them play google eyes at one another today. I tuck my forefinger and thumb under my tongue, blowing. “Moldovo. Now.”

Catching herself, she blushes, excusing her exit as she trots over to us. Cass and I lock eyes as she does, his gaze reflexively finding the source of the shrill disturbance. He was even more impressive face-to-face.

Seriously, where has he been hiding?

“Great swing,” I say.

He lifts a hand to brush away the hair on his forehead. A small scar rests there, slicing the end of his eyebrow in two. It was an unusual “flaw” on his otherwise perfect face. I wondered where he got it from.

He averts his eyes to the ceiling. “Thanks.” How unexpected. He didn’t strike me as the bashful type. 

“Too bad we have to kick your ass now,” Miki interrupts, throwing an arm around my shoulders. She pulls on her eye, sticking her tongue out.

An amused smile tilts up the corner of his lips. “Twins?”

“Don’t get any weird ideas. This one is a prude.” My sister’s elbow digs playfully into my side.

I wanted to drop-kick her. We’d literally just met this man. “The only one with weird ideas is you.”

Cass laughs, extending out a hand in greeting. “Cassius Etrius. Pleasure.”

Ah, I understood where the ‘Cass’ came from. I take his hand, shaking it firmly. The skin of his palms was soft. I’d thought they’d be rough from hours spent lifting weights in the gym with his physique. He was full of twists. “Akina Kitamura. This is my sister, Miki.”

“The pretty one.” She was always so quick to interject with that one.

“Humble, too,” I mutter.

The other man steps up to ruffle Cassius’s hair, much to his annoyance. He smiles at me. “The struggle of being the older sibling, am I right?”

Miki furrows her brow. “How’d you know she was the older one?”

“Something about the look on her face tipped me off. It felt too much like looking in a mirror,” he replies. “Julian Etrius, by the way. That set you did earlier was incredible.”

Damn, he did notice. So much for trying to fly under the radar. “It was a fluke.”

It was my turn to avert my eyes. There’s so much excitement in Cassius’s stare I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. What was wrong with me? It wasn’t the first time someone had shown interest in me. Despite my sister’s hubris, we were pretty. Most people displayed at least a passing interest if nothing else.

There was something about the way he looked at me, though. It didn’t feel like just interest.

Miki picks up on my discomfort, a smirk creeping onto her face. This was getting worse by the minute. “Can we play now?” I ask.

“Sure, sure.” She twirls us around, ushering me away. “Good to meet you both.”

Dalila wiggles her brow at me as Miki pushes me into the semi-circle, the same shit-eating grin on my sister’s lips reflected on hers. Nythia isn’t much better, pretending to whistle while barely concealing her smile. The juniors joining the circle think better than to say anything, but I can see the question in their eyes.

God, this was mortifying.

I throw my hand in the middle of the circle, ignoring the anticipation building around me. The disappointment was palpable, but I didn’t care. We were not getting into this right now. “Team on two. One. Two.”

“Team.” It was lackluster, but it would do.

We settle into our positions on the court. Miki starts diagonal to me in the back right side; Dalila and the other outside waiting for the start opposite either of us. Nythia and the middle between us round out the lineup in the middle positions. We were fortunate to have a decent height in the front, but Cassius was a wild card. He had to be six-four or five at minimum, and I hadn’t even seen his vertical. Not even factoring in whether he could consistently land that cut, we were going to need to triple-team him with perfect timing to have a hope of picking up his hits.

“He transferred junior year. He’d been on the backup roster, but never made it to practice on scrimmage days.” Dante’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He’d pushed Omari to the net, preparing to receive Miki’s serve. I hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with staring at the outside hitter on the opposite side of the court pushing back to pass. I wonder if he was as good at serve-receive as he was at hitting.

A part of me hoped he was trash. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us mere mortals otherwise.

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know you didn’t.” I hated his perceptiveness.

Omari snickers. “Want me to be your wingman?”

“Considering you can’t block for shit, it’s not a bad offer.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” His expression shifts from teasing to a competitive annoyance. “We’ll see about that, Kitamura.”

“Zeroes!” Miki calls. She holds the ball in front of her in her right hand, positioned a good ten feet from the serving line.

Leaving the duo, I jog over to the center of the court to meet Dalila. She smacks my hand, grinning. “You got the big guy?”

I glance at Cassius again. He was focused on the server, crouched low with his arms outstretched. His platform was solid. Not a good start for my hope of him being a trash passer. I was going to need every ounce of that fake it till you make it attitude that Coach Mezza constantly harped on. “Yeah. Just follow my call.”

Miki tosses the ball in the air, arms swinging behind her to start her approach.

Left. Right. Left.

She launches herself into the air, connecting with the ball as it descends from the apex of the toss. From the side profile, she looks like the wooden base of a recurve bow pulled taunt. Snapping her core, she slams her palm into the softened leather. It flies over the net, full of topspin and heat. Impressive. She’d really worked her arm into a cannon over the summer.

It spins to the split between the brothers, curving between them. It was a hard serve to pick up, especially the first time that you’d seen it. No matter how good Cassius’s platform was, he would struggle to get a good pass off that. In fact, I would be surprised if he could get to it at all.

However, it wasn’t Cassius I needed to be concerned with.

The older brother launches at the ball, digging it before it can touch the ground. It sails through the air in a soft arch, floating to the right side of the court.

Fuck. What is in their goddamn gene pool?

I shift on my left leg, tracing the ball through the air as it lands in Dante’s arms. He tosses up a back set to Omari. With a clean approach, he thrusts his palm into the ball. Mercifully, Dalila is there to meet him, dampening the blow with an open palmed block. Nythia appears from behind  to dig it, sending it flying to the setter position on right side of the court. Miki and I swap, her hands shifting above her head to greet the ball. Isse moves to cover Dalila and our middle, baited by the forward shift of Miki’s hands. She adjusts at the last minute, sending the ball into a beautiful arch over her shoulders to me. Julian tries to adjust, jumping to meet me, but he’s too late. I smash the ball down the line, expecting it to hear a satisfying thud as it smacks into the court.

Except Cassius is there to dig the ball, sending it sailing to Dante once again. All three hitters immediately prepare to receive a set. We were in trouble. We’d need to split our defense, but I wasn’t confident I could handle Julian solo.

Surprising me, Dante doesn’t set to any of them. Instead, he returns the ball the way it came for a back row attack. “Put it down, pretty boy.”

Cassius grins, hurling himself into an approach that sends him sailing over the ten-foot line. His hand cracks into the ball, hammering it down in front of Nythia before she has time to react.

The first point goes to the men.

“That vertical is insane,” Miki mutters, gnawing at her lip while she watches the men’s team celebrate.

She was right. This was going to be a pain.

Omari moves to the serving line on the next rotation, swapping Cassius’s position for the front row. The hitter gives me a wink as he steps to the front line.

What a cocky fucking bastard.

I shuffle to the back row, crouching into my platform.

Alright. Let’s do this, then.

The serve comes quick—a rocket to the right side. Nythia stomps her foot, swinging out her arms to connect with it. Miki runs into place, locking her hips parallel with the net. I can see her eyes shift towards the middle, ready to go in for a one. I wanted this one, though. I pierce my gaze into her, calling out. “Mi.”

She smirks, sighing as she launches the ball out to me in a shoot. I meet it midair, swapping arms to smack the ball into the space between Cassius and Omari. It shoots from the ground, rolling to a stop behind them. Cassius is stunned, arms still in the ready position.

I wink back at him.

We rotate, shifting me into the middle of the court. Cassius joins Isse and his brother. He’s holding back a smile. “Of course, you’re ambidextrous.”

Fuck me, he was cute. I say nothing in response. I was certain that anything I could manage to get out of my mouth would sound like nonsense. Besides, we were here to play a game, not flirt. It didn’t matter if he was cute. I didn’t want to lose to him.

The game continues in the same manner, each team trading blow for blow, point for point. There’s a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. The lightheartedness takes on a competitive edge, with neither team wanting to give up too much ground to the other. Truthfully, though, we were at a disadvantage. Every touch Cassius had resulted in immediate damage control. If not for Nythia, we would have fallen behind ages ago. Her defense was the sole reason we’d been able to eke out a handful of points to stay in the running.

Her arms are bright red the next time we bring it in, the skin of her forearms puffing out from the inflammation.

“Are you okay?”

She grins. “No problem.”

That was a lie. She was hurting, I could tell. I didn’t know how much of this she could take. He wasn’t holding back on her, putting more power into each attack in response to her passes.

I was in the front row on this rotation. Cassius and the other middle were stacked, ready to switch with one another as soon as Isse made his serve. They were carrying the momentum. We needed something to slow them, at least temporarily. I could make up a few points on the next rotation with a few well-timed setter dumps, but it wouldn’t matter if Cassius was left to have his way for the next round of points. His concentration was impressive, but with the way Nythia was getting under his skin, he didn’t seem the type to keep a level head under pressure. One block was all it would take to throw him off, I could sense it. All I needed was an opportunity.

Isse serves a winding float aimed right at the corner pocket. I stretch, picking it up in a curving pass. Miki is there to intercept it, throwing it up to the outside. The sophomore waiting for her dinks the ball over the net, aiming for the hole in the campfire they’d laid for her. Unfortunately, Julian is there to intercept the pass, throwing it up for Dante to set.

It was going to the outside. It was too pretty not to go to the outside—Cassius was too reliable. Dante had adjusted to using him whenever the pass allowed for it. I signal to the girls flanking me in the front row, drawing them over. “Get ready.”

The set is lovely. It flows in an easy arch to the outside pin, hovering a foot off the net. Cassius would eat that up. I’d spent enough time watching him this match to know that he preferred the sets that gave him all the time in the world to decide where to lay it. He shuffles back, arms swinging behind him as he begins his approach.

Fine. If he wanted time, I’d give it to him.

“Now,” I call. The other two follow my order, jumping up to block his options on the cross-shot. Normally, I would have gone up with them, but I don’t this time, waiting a beat instead.

Spotting the hole, Cassius twists his body, arm swinging to hit the line shot left wide open by the early timing. The angle of his shoulder is a dead giveaway.

Got you.

I jump up at the last second, pressing my arms into the court on the other side as he swings. The ball smashes into my palm, hurling into the court below us with a resolute thud. My palm is raw, pain radiating up my fingers, but it didn’t matter.

I’d roofed him.

The court falls silent, the others too stunned to process what had just happened given how thoroughly I’d baited him into the hit. Miki crashes into me, swinging me around. “Hell, yes!”

I look down at my reddened palms, squeezing them together. I’d figured him out. This match was as good as ours. “Let’s finish this.”

He’s fuming when I shift my gaze in his direction, his competitive edge bleeding over into the game more than I think he intended it to. His jaw clenches, a tormented smile working over his lips.

I shrug, turning from him and grabbing the ball to head to the serving line. We needed to make up a few points here if we had any hope of catching up. It wouldn’t be easy with Cassius still on the front line, but it was doable now that I’d shaken him up a bit.

Spinning the ball, I stop it with my opposite hand, breathing out. A low toss and I send it over in a float serve aimed right for Omari. He picks it up well enough, throwing it to the middle of the court. Dante had no choice but to go for Cassius, shoved too far in to manage a back set to the middle, let alone the opposite hitter. Our blockers go up, but the middle doesn’t make it in time to close the distance to Miki on the right side, leaving a perfect gap between them. Mistake. Cassius wouldn’t miss this opportunity. I could see the hunger etched on his face after the defeat I’d handed him.

Anticipating the damage control I’d need to do, I slip behind the gap to intercept the ball at the ten-foot line. Only this time, he swings a hair longer than usual, thrown off by the tightness of the set to the plane of the net. The ball bounds off my elbows, hurling into my nose. Pain radiates over my face from the impact, lighting my nose on fire and sending stars over my vision. Oblivious to my error, Nythia jumps in to send the ball to the corner on the opposite side with enough topspin to drop it faster than any of them calculated. Omari narrowly avoids picking it up as it rolls onto the ground, barely inside the court.

The adrenaline running through my veins blocks out any immediate response to the pain. I couldn’t believe she’d score a point off that.

Dalila gasps.

Something drips onto my shirt. I lift a hand to my face, pressing it into the viscous substance flowing over my lip. I was bleeding. The ball must have hit me harder than I thought. I didn’t think it was broken, at least.

A hand converges on my nose as I begin to tilt my head to the ceiling, pinching the bridge to tamper the bleeding. It takes me a minute to realize it’s Cassius on the other side of the grip. He gently tilts my head down, again, pressing his palm softly into my back. “Careful. You’ll only send the blood down your nose that way.”

I’m too shocked to respond, hyper-fixated on the hands holding me into place. He was way too close. I could smell the mix of sweat and leather and dust coating his palms from the ball from this position. I could also smell the faintest hint of whatever cologne he’d put on earlier. It smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon.

His grip is impressively steady. I got the sense that he’d dealt with this before.

“Can you walk?” His eyebrows are furrowed with concern.

Miki hovers over his shoulder, trying to get a better view. “Is she okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I can walk, yes. My nose must be overly dry with the weather change.” We may have been in California, but seasons were the same everywhere.

“Should we call an EMT?”

God, no. Was she trying to kill me from embarrassment? “It’s just a nosebleed. It’ll stop soon.” She remains unconvinced. “I don’t think we should leave it like that.”

“I’m sure the trainer’s office has something,” Cassius interjects. “Go ahead and continue the game without us. I’ll bring her back in a bit. Just to be safe.”

I got the sense there was no point in arguing with him. “Whatever.”

He loops an arm over my shoulders, positioning himself so that he can keep a grip on my nose as we make our way through the gym to the nurse’s office near the front. The stares are relentless from the moment we step off the court until we make it the short distance to the trainer’s office. It was ridiculous how much attention this giant of a man attracted by existing. No wonder he kept a low profile all these years. I imagine being gawked at like a prized show horse would get old.

The trainer’s room is empty when we enter. The trainer left promptly at five. There was no need to go that far for this, though.  I’d be fine after a cold pack and a few minutes to rest.

I glance at Cassius. “You don’t have to stay here. I’m okay. Really.”

“Why don’t you kick me out after I take care of the bleeding? In the meantime, have a seat, and I’ll get something to clean you up.”

I sigh, complying with his request to avoid further argument. He rifles through the drawers of the sink in the corner of the room, finding a fistful of precut gauze. I expect him to roll it to stick up my nose, but instead, he grips the crown of my head, tilting it to the floor. His hand finds the bridge of my nose again, fingers clamping it with firm pressure. Pulling a pad from the top of the stack, he gently lays it underneath my nose to catch any drippage. I didn’t see the logic behind the move, considering the front of my shirt was already soaked, but far be it from me to question his motives.

“You seem like you have experience with this,” I comment.

He replaces the soaked cotton with a fresh one. “I guess you could say that. My sister used to get these a lot.”

“Is she a freak at volleyball, too?” I couldn’t help it.

He chuckles. “No, she’s not really into sports.”

“There is a god.” I fall silent after that, waiting patiently as he periodically checks to see if the bleeding has ceased. After about ten minutes, he finally withdraws his grip and the gauze, lifting my chin up to get a better look. There’s a tenderness to his eyes that seemed inconsistent with his size. Something oddly disarming. He gave meaning to the phrase ‘Gentle Giant.’ Did he make the same expression for every girl he got this close to? It left you feeling inexplicably vulnerable.

Seemingly satisfied, he chucks the soiled cotton pads into the trash. “Gotta say, this isn’t exactly how I was hoping to get you alone for the first time.” What did he mean by that?

I wrestle away the giddiness filling my stomach. I would not be swayed. “Does bloodying my nose turn you on or something?”

He blushes, rubbing his neck again“I’m sorry about that. I got carried away.”

I didn’t expect him to sound so contrite. I’d only meant to tease him a little. He’d been the one to hit my nose. Why was I the one feeling guilty? “It was my fault. I misjudged the distance.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs between us, neither quite sure what to say to the other. This would have been much easier if he weren’t a total stranger. While campus wasn’t that big, I didn’t pay much attention to anyone outside of my major or my social circles. I never even knew he existed before today.

I slide from the table, wiping the last of the blood from my face. “Thanks. I should get going.”

He looks at the floor. “My flirting was that bad, huh?”

“Timing could have been better.” It wasn’t the worst if I was being honest. 

His lips tip into a smile. Fuck me, he knew how to turn on the charm. “Fair enough. What time would work better, in that case?”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Sure, just say you’re not interested, and I’ll drop it.”

That would be a lie. I hated that he knew that already. “You’re getting way too much enjoyment out of this.”

“It’s not every day you get the chance to be alone in a room with the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. I’ve always been an opportunist.” He flashes a mischievous smile. “Well, second prettiest anyway. Your sister already claimed the top spot.”

Don’t smile.

“There it is,” he hums, grinning. This man was the worst.

Fine. I knew when I’d been beat. “There’s a party tonight. Before you ask, I don’t know where, or when, and there will definitely be costumes involved.”

“My favorite.”

“You should come.”

“Could you give more details than that?”

I roll my eyes, sliding off the bed to grab a pen from one of the sink drawers. Turning on my heel, I take his wrist, pulling over to scribble my number on the underside. “I’ll text you more details after practice.”

His eyes linger over the numbers. “I’m looking forward to it.”