Something twists in my chest.
I ignore it.
She’s pretty. So what? Lots of girls are pretty. Doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t change anything.
Her eyes drift across the facility, scanning the room, and for a second—just a second—they land on me.
I look away first.
“I should finish my sets,” I say, standing.
Zayden nods, but there’s something knowing in his expression that I don’t like. “Sure, man. See you at practice.”
I grab my water bottle and head for the far corner of the weight room, as far from the glass partition as I can get.
Not my problem. Not my business.
I repeat it like a mantra as I load up the barbell.
I glance toward the glass one more time. She’s gone.
Good.
I turn back to the weights and get to work.
Chapter Three
Downward Spiral
Winnie
I arrive at the training room forty-five minutes early because I’m an overachiever with anxiety issues.
The space is quiet and empty. I flip on the lights and take a moment to breathe it in. This is my second official session. Yesterday was rough, but today will be better. Today I’m prepared.
I set out fifteen mats in neat rows, spacing them evenly. I test the sound system, queuing up a playlist I made specifically for this—ambient, calming, nothing like the heavy rock music blaring from the weight room yesterday. I arrange foam rollers along the wall and stack yoga blocks by the door.
I check my reflection in the mirror. Black leggings, fitted tank, hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Professional but practical. Nothing provocative. Nothing that sayslook at me.
Not that it matters. They looked anyway yesterday.
I push the thought away and focus on stretching, warming up my body while I wait. Twentyminutes until the session starts. Twenty minutes of peace.
Except at 8:42, I notice movement outside the glass doors.
Three players are already gathered in the hallway, peering in. One of them waves.
By 8:50, there are seven.
By 8:55, there are twelve—and more are trickling in from the locker room.
I stare at my roster sheet. Fifteen players signed up for today’s session.
So why, when I open the doors at 8:58, do twenty-three bodies pour into my training room like I’m giving away free beer?
“Is there a sign-up sheet I missed?” I ask no one in particular.
“I signed up,” Logan says brightly, claiming his spot in the front row. Of course he’s in the front row. “I’m very committed to my flexibility.”
