Scott wasn’t exactly a close friend, but he was one of those guys who knew everyone. We ran in the same orbit, even though we didn’t exactly share a social circle. We’d had a few classes together in high school, played on the same basketball team in middle school before I quit. And somehow, Scott always seemed to pop up at the strangest times, like he had some weird sixth sense about where you were, what you were doing.

“Still with the books, huh?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face. “How’s that working out for you? Got any big plans in the pipeline?”

I laughed under my breath. “Something like that,” I said again.

Jamal leaned in toward Scott with an exaggerated, teasing expression. “Scotty, still got that six-pack from middle school? Or did you trade it in for a dad bod? I mean, it’s been what…five years since we saw you in the gym?”

Scott gave Jamal a playful shove, but his grin was wide. “Speaking of bodies, you should come to my party next weekend. I swear, it won’t be a disaster like Evan’s. This one will be chill. No drunk idiots jumping off roofs.”

Jamal raised a brow. “What’s the real reason you’re inviting Blake to a party, Reynolds?”

Scott’s smirk widened. “You got me.” He turned back to me. “So, here’s the thing. I was talking to someone the other day. And she may or may not have said she thinks you’re—” He made a vague hand gesture. “You know, hot.”

I sighed, already regretting this conversation. “Tell her I’m not interested.”

Scott blinked. “You don’t even know who it is.”

“Still not interested.”

“Come on. She’s cute, McHayes. And she actually likes you. That doesn’t happen every day.”

Jamal barked out a laugh. “That literally happens every day.”

Scott scoffed. “Dude, he never gives anyone a chance⁠—”

I shot him a warning look.

He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. No accusations. But seriously, what’s the deal? You waiting for the perfect girl or something?”

Jamal snorted. “Oh, he’s waiting, alright.”

I ignored that comment.

Scott folded his arms, studying me like I was a puzzle that needed solving. “Look, just come to the party. Meet her. If you’re not into it, cool. But at least give it a shot.”

“No.”

Scott sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“He’s very possible,” Jamal said with a stupid grin on his face. “Just not in the way you’re hoping.”

Scott frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just that our boy is already spoken for.”

I shot him a glare. “Jamal.”

Scott was watching me like I was some kind of science experiment. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure me out.

Then his eyes flicked past me, toward the treadmills, and he grinned. “Oh, this is perfect.”