MARIA POV
The apartment was warm, filled with the scent of butter cookies and hot chocolate. Sam and I were sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to my laptop screen as the game streamed live.
The crowd in Columbus roared through the speakers, a wave of noise crashing over us as the camera panned over the court. My heart jumped at the sight of them—Henry, already in position for the tip-off, exuding pure dominance, and Dax, standing a few feet away, twirling the ball between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.
“Damn,” I whispered. “They look good.”
“They look like gods,” Sam corrected, stuffing a handful of cookies into his mouth. Not one, not two—four whole cookies. His cheeks were puffed out like a hamster, and when he tried to speak, crumbs exploded from his lips.
