The second game was winding down when Laila popped into the doorway to give them a five-minute warning. She was already dressed to go in her black bathing suit, long legs on full display and hair pulled up into a pinned French braid. A few seconds after she left, the Trojans scored, but Jean didn’t even react. He was staring through the TV like he’d forgotten where he was. Jeremy couldn’t help himself. “Must be nice, liking both. I bet it makes things easier.” “Stop dyeing your hair. The bleach is rotting your brain,” Jean said, with more acrimony than Jeremy thought his comment warranted.
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