7
Teddy
Thank god, my routine was back in place today. Press releases and brown-eyed male rugby players did nothing for my sleep pattern or general wellness. Today was normal. I woke up and had my oatmeal with blueberries and honey, stretched, drank my coffee, and even managed to braid my hair the way I like without rushing. Later, I’m hoping I can escape to the beach for a while, too.
It was going to be a good day. A predictable day.
Which was exactly what I needed after yesterday’s media circus.
Micah appeared beside me, shaking out her arms like we were about to spar instead of train. “Gym block till eight, pitch till ten, then video. Honestly, it’s almost soothing how on track we are.” Micah loved routine and predictability almost as much as I did. It’s why we got on so well in college—two control freaks with color-coded planners and a low tolerance for bullshit. The biggest difference was that she was Little Miss Sunshine, whereas I resembled a deranged rain cloud on a good day.
“Don’t forget lunch,” I added.
“When have I ever forgotten food?”
I smiled and reached for the gym door, mind already half on our lift session and lunch. But the second I opened it, I knew something was wrong.
Wrong playlist. Wrong energy. Wrong smell. No, it was all overwhelmingly… male.
Sure enough, right in the middle of our gym block, a handful of the Knights were mid-set, grunting. Hell to the no was my day was about to be sabotaged.
Jake spotted us and lifted a hand. “Morning, ladies.” His dark hair was sticking up all over the place, his body glistening with sweat, and of course, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Then another one popped up from behind him, his hair longer and pulled into a bun… but the question that plagued me the most was: why do none of these men wear shirts? And why the hell are they ambushing our time slot? Then a few more dropped their weights, making themselves known. None of which I recognized as easily as Jake and Nate, though.
“Why are you here?” I asked, barreling right past morning pleasantries.
Jake looked back at Nate with a frown. “We train in the mornings.”
Blood began to rush around my head at an alarming rate. “No, you don’t.” I yanked out my phone and pulled up the calendar app, and before I knew it, my feet had marched over to him, phone turned ready to show him just how wrong he was.
Jake squinted at the screen, not nearly as alarmed as he should’ve been. “That’s not the schedule Coach sent out.”
Micah peered over my shoulder. “It’s the master calendar. The one your captain and coach approved when we locked in training blocks last week.”
Jake scratched the back of his neck. “Right, well… this must’ve been updated after we got ours.”
“Yeah, because yours got rewritten after the storm split your pitch in half!” I snapped, pulse ticking in my neck. It was insensitive, and I’m sure Micah would remind me of that later, but right now, I just felt rage. “You don’t just keep using the old one and hope for the best.”
Nate appeared from behind a row of kettlebells. “It was a misunderstanding. Chill.”
“You know I can help you work through that anger,” Jake said, smirking like a smug little milk-loving kitten. He must have had a death wish.
Micah’s hand landed on my arm like she could feel the flames coming off me. “Deep breath, Captain.”
“I don’t want to chill,” I muttered. My blood pressure was being tested today.
“Look.” Nate stepped closer, his hands up like I was going to rugby-tackle him. I just might’ve, to be honest. “We weren’t trying to hijack anything. We just followed the session notes we had. This wasn’t about stepping on toes.”
My jaw clenched. “Except you did step on toes. My players are going to be here any second, expecting the space they were promised. We don’t have another gym down the hall we can use.” The idea that my squad full of lusty thoughts would walk in to these, or any of the other guys, right now, made me feel lightheaded and not in a fun way. Peeling my girls off another player wasn’t what I needed.
Before anyone could answer, the side door creaked open and in walked Connor.
Hair damp. Knights T-shirt sticking to his chest. Coffee in one hand, phone in the other.
His gaze landed on me first, then flicked to Jake and Nate, then to my phone that was still righteously in the air, showing the correct calendar.
“Ah,” he said. “You found the clusterfuck.”
“What do you mean?”
