“Okay,” I sighed, nodding. “I’ll be good.”
Coach Em laughed at that, like someone who’d seen every one of my not-good moments firsthand. “I don’t need you to be good, Teddy. I just need you to be you. You’re a damn good leader.Charismatic as hell. Let them see that version of you, and they’ll be eating from the palm of your hand.”
Which sounded nice, in theory. But right now, I wasn’t sure which version of me was going to show up… the cool, composed, marketable one, or the one who wanted to crawl back into bed with noise-canceling headphones and a bag of chocolate-covered almonds. Or the newer one, who was perpetually scowling because of some hotshot rugby captain playing house with me and my team.
Deep down, I knew that having the men’s team as allies would benefit us. We just needed to make sure that they were doing it for the right reasons. Investment was one step we’d been lucky enough to secure this year, but marketing the team and having already established voices speaking out for us, believing in us, that was another entirely. Every day had been an uphill battle to get here and we deserved the validation, but it was also why we tried so hard to make a difference in this sport.
Still, I nodded again, because what else was there to do? “I’ll make it work.”
Just be me, right? That was easy… except me was a little strung out. Maybe I needed to jump in an ice bath before I left later just to keep me Zen. Yeah, that would work.
***
So it turned out that I became grumpy when my routine changed. Natalie knew this. I knew this. Micah would argue I’m grumpy, period. But the reality is—I was a simple creature. I liked knowing when I’d be training, when I’d be eating, and when I’d get to collapse in a very unattractive starfish position on my memory foam mattress bed.
Today, none of those things were happening.
Because today, despite Coach giving me a heads-up, I still received a five a.m. wake-up call that felt like a personal attack on both my circadian rhythmandmy dignity, all in service of being across town for a six a.m. brand shoot. My body, which had trained itself to move like clockwork in the direction of the stadium, was now being rerouted through half-awake traffic, half-buttoned jeans, and the kind of inner monologue that could only be described as seventy percent swearing and thirty percent caffeine withdrawals.
And honestly? I wasnotthriving.
The drive was foggy—mentally and meteorologically—and I was halfway convinced this whole thing was some kind of karmic punishment for something I’d done in a previous life.
By the time I pulled up to the studio, which was really just a repurposed warehouse with overly hip industrial windows and zero available parking, I’d already drafted three versions of a message to Coach about why I’d be a more effective team leader if I stayed on site. I didn’t send it, obviously. But it was a close call.
And then as I exited my car, a mess of dark hair was waiting outside the building.
He turned, showcasing the face of smugness itself, all too tall and perfect and very much already there,like this was something he did every week before breakfast.
I approached him, even though my body didn’t like that very much, and when I got closer, he smiled at me.
He held out one coffee cup, like an olive branch—or more accurately, likely a bribe—and I blinked at it in suspicion.
“What is this?” Nothing in my life had prepared me for a surprise hot drink from my nemesis. And he’d earned that title when he took summa cum laude in college. Our GPA was matched until that last dissertation of his that tipped him from a 3.9 to a perfect 4.0. I yearned to know what it was he wrote aboutin that dissertation, but I’d never ask him because my pride wouldn’t allow it. Graduating magna cum laude would have to be enough for me.
Well, I hoped this drink was a cappuccino. The reality was, he had no idea how I took my coffee, and it would probably be a basic Americano. Though I was surprised at all to receive anything; the Connor I knew wouldn’t be so chivalrous.
“Good morning, Teddy.”
I frowned. “Good morning… Is this a bribe?”
“A peace offering,” he said, shrugging one shoulder like this was totally normal.
“For?”
“My guys being idiots the other morning.”
I squinted at him. “That’s… appreciated.” I knew he might want me to say it’s fine, but this had to be a learning curve for him and his team. Second chances didn’t come often with me. But I took the coffee anyway, because I was a rational adult who knew better than to turn down free caffeine. It was warm, smelled like heaven, and when my lips lowered to the tip of the cup, I knew… “How did you know I like cappuccino?”
His hand shot to the back of his neck, massaging for a second before a guilty pair of brown eyes found mine. “Micah told me.”
I’d have to have a talk with my assistant coach if she was planning on giving information out so easily, but I wasn’t sure she would’ve told him either.
I let myself assess him, scouting for the truth, but it was also a convenient excuse to take him in for a moment. He stood too still, broad shoulders set with tense muscles. His jaw was tighter than it needed to be, his hair pushed back like usual, but it looked a little more unkept today. His mouth did that thing where he pressed his lips together. I’d put money on the fact he never asked Micah at all and he knew all along. How? I had no idea, but why lie about that?
“Mm,” I murmured, giving him a final once-over.
“What?” His throat bobbed.
