Page 36 of On His Team

I turn the laptop toward her.

Gianna goes quiet while she reads, her finger moving slowly over the trackpad.

“Send me everything.”

I laugh. “You’re not copying my project.”

She looks offended. “I don’t want your boring-ass youth clinic.”

My eyebrows lift. “Damn.”

“I want the forms.” She turns her phone toward me. A document is already open with eleven bullet points. Three are crossed out. “Ives wants the approval chain figured out early. Everybody in that class is going to email her asking who they need to talk to, and she’s going to tell us to figure it out ourselves. You already did that for me.”

“So you’re using mine as a map?”

“Yes.”

I nod. “Okay.”

I share the folder. She immediately goes back to her notes.

“Okay. Idea one. There were eleven. I killed six.”

“Good.”

She ignores that. “Skills competition. Hardest shot. Fastest skater. Accuracy. Camden players. Ticketed. Home weekend.”

“No.”

She looks up, offended again. “What do you mean, no?”

“Facilities won’t give you the main sheet.”

Her brows meet. “Why?”

“Because you’re asking for it on a game weekend. They already need the building for a game,” I say, looking at her. Her brain’s turning.

“So second sheet,” she suggests like I should’ve considered it.

I say, “No seating.”

She looks down and draws a line through something. “Fine.”

I look at the line. “That was easy.”

“I don’t get emotionally attached to bad ideas.”

“So I’m learning.”

She moves on. “Second.” She shifts in the chair. “Outdoor event. The pond behind—”

“Risk Management.”

She groans, her shoulders dropping. “Rowan.”

I laugh, watching her whine. “What?”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she complains.