Page 24 of The Replay

What a foolish fantasy to pop into my head.

"Hello, Dom." Saint grins. "Perfect timing. You're the man I'd rather be teasing now."

"Finally a break," Logan says. "I was getting tired of Saint's jokes."

"Why?" Dom asks Saint. "Seeing Logan get frownier by the second is endlessly funny."

"He already has gone through all the stages," the wide receiver explains. "From disinterested frown, to annoyed frown, to 'I'll mock you in my most deadpan tone' frown."

Logan rolls his eyes. Evie and I laugh.

Dom ignores us and nods solemnly. "He's reached the final form."

"I should have been tougher with you all," Logan says.

Saint slaps his back. "Too late, Logan King. Too late."

A producer shows up and leads Dom to get ready for his shoot. I chat with his friends for a while, before Saint and Logan say goodbye and leave. I remain behind with Evie, casually chatting with her, until Dom appears from the changing room wearing only the knee-length pants of the Strike uniform.

I don't stare. My eyes stay glued to Evie. If in the periphery I track how two assistants help him spread some kind of liquid on his skin, it's just because it's unavoidable. And annoying. It has to be.

"Oh, this is good material," Evie says, and makes a gesture toward Dom.

She takes her phone out of her pocket and smiles mischievously at me. I follow her to him.

He's massaging oil over his chest. All over his stomach. The view is just as good as it was when we were together and oh, so delicious. Wide, thick shoulders. Pecs that shift as he moves. No six pack, but no one could miss them when the iliac furrow above his narrow hips— I looked up the medical term, back in college when I got to use them as love handles— is as glorious as Dom's. Overall, some padding has found its way to his torso. It makes his shape more interesting, softening muscles he's further developed since the last time I got to run my hands all over him.

It's two assistants who have their hands on him today. They help spread oil over his shoulders. His back. The ceiling lamps paint highlights on his skin, the more the liquid covers the territory. Now my eyes latch onto his tattoos, thirsty for what is on display before me, making me wish I could count every single piece of ink on his skin. If only to check which ones might be new, of course.

Ahem. I cast my eyes to the floor. It's standard industrial flooring, and a better target than staring at my ex's chest for way too long. Thinking things I don't want him to see on my face.

"You don't mind, do you?" Evie asks Dom. "I'm sure the video will go viral and then you can bug everyone that you must be the fans' favorite."

"I don't mind. Objectify me as much as you like."

I snort, but hide it. I clear my throat for good measure, but let them get into it. From the tone of their voice, they're having fun.

Evie chuckles. "That's exactly what I'm doing, but it's for a good cause."

"Fan engagement drives ticket sales."

"Yes, right, ah-ha. That's why you do it."

"It also gives me another bet to win on the Hypersquare."

"I almost forgot you got the crown last season. It's not like you've mentioned it a hundred times since."

"I can win it again." His eyes sparkle. "Especially with a video like this one. All I need to do is bet I'll get more comments from fans than anyone else."

"Go right ahead. Then the other guys will let me record them more, just to shut you up."

"It's all to help you in your projects, Evie."

"And I'm sure you don't mind the attention."

Dom lifts a shoulder, no concern on his features at all. "Let a man enjoy some adulation wherever he can get it."

"Except there's a point where it gets into someone's head." I keep my gaze above the neck, unashamed of getting in the middle of their playful banter. "Wouldn't you say?"