_Nathan’s POV_
Miles was waiting by my dorm door when I got back from the arena, still in team joggers, damp hair pushed back like he had come straight from his own locker room without giving the night a chance to cool.
“You’re not going in alone with the messages,” he said.
“Hello to you too.”
“Nathan.”
I unlocked the door because the corridor was the wrong place for whatever this had become. He followed me in, shut it, and stayed on his feet while I dropped my bag.
“You played angry,” I said.
“You played split.” Miles’s eyes tracked me across the room. “And the second the horn went, both of them moved in like they’d been waiting for the final score to justify another claim on your time.”
I pulled out my phone, the messages still stacked there in ugly sequence. Elias. Rowan. Compo
