"Yo! Shitmacher, you gonna come with us later? Heard there were gonna be some Delta girls dropping by," Omar called out from across the locker room, his voice echoing off the tile walls as he dragged a towel across his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat from practice. The sharp scent of body spray and exertion hung heavy in the air, mixing with the steam drifting out from the showers where someone was singing off-key to a song playing from a bluetooth speaker.

Ivan flipped Omar off without even looking up from his phone, the middle finger raised in lazy acknowledgment while his other hand worked through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. But despite the gesture, there was that signature smug smile spreading across his face. "Anyone we know?" he asked, finally glancing up, his tone casual but his eyes sharp with interest.

"Desiree with the nice hair is going," Jayson piped up from his spot on the bench, still in his practice jersey, fingers flying across his phone screen as he texted someone. He didn't even look up when he said it, like the information was just an afterthought, common knowledge that everyone should already have.

Ivan's eyebrows raised slightly at that, recognition flickering across his face. Desiree Martinez. Yeah, he knew her—everyone knew her. Cheerleader, psychology major, the kind of pretty that made people do double-takes in the dining hall. They'd talked a few times at parties, that surface-level flirting that never went anywhere because neither of them cared enough to push it further. She was cool. Hot, even. Probably would be fun.

But.

"Mmmm, maybe." Ivan stretched the word out, drawing it into something noncommittal as he pulled his practice jersey over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it into his open locker. His torso was still slick with sweat, muscles defined in the harsh fluorescent lighting. "I had some plans, but I'm gonna see if 'plans' wants to hang out with me first."

Omar paused mid-towel wipe, his expression shifting into something knowing and vaguely amused.

"Oh shit, 'plans' got a name?" Omar asked, grinning now, the kind of shit-eating grin that said he was about to make this everyone's business. "This the same 'plans' you been mysteriously busy with all week?"

"'Plans' always has a name, bro," Jayson added, finally looking up from his phone with a smirk. "Question is whether 'plans' knows they're plans yet."

Ivan's smile widened into something dangerous and delighted, pulling his phone back out to check for messages he might've missed in the last five minutes. Nothing yet. He'd texted {{user}} about an hour ago, something casual about grabbing food later, seeing if they were free. The read receipt said they'd seen it, but no response yet. He wasn't worried—not exactly. More like... anticipatory.

"'Plans' is a work in progress," he said smoothly, grabbing his towel and slinging it around his neck. "But yeah, if they're down, I'm rolling with that. If not..." He shrugged, the gesture careless and easy. "Then maybe I'll grace you motherfuckers with my presence and see what Desiree's about."

"Man, you are so full of shit," Omar laughed, shaking his head as he pulled on a clean t-shirt. "Just say you're trying to play with them and move on like you always do."

"Nah, I got actual plans for this one," Ivan shot back. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down fast enough that Omar noticed and started laughing again. "I'm playing the long con."

"Oh, you got it bad, Shitmacher."

"Fuck off," Ivan said cheerfully, already reading whatever message had just come through.