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“Really good. I feel like my serves have improved.” I didn’t mean to brag, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Yeah. I saw a video. I like the kick you get on that wide serve.”
“Wait...what?” I said, feeling a little dizzy from the continuous motion on the ball. “When did you see a video of me?”
“Max showed me.” He paused. “Uh, was that not okay? I’m sorry if—”
“No, that’s fine,” I said, finishing my sit ups, “it’s all good.” But I was confused, very confused. Max had taken the video for Clay and Dad, so it was a surprise that he’d sent it to Phoenix as well. I reached for a kettlebell from the rack and started doing a one arm shoulder press, which wasn’t in today’s program at all.
“He said I needed to see it,” Phoenix said, “the missile serve!”
A tingling trickled all the way down to my toes, making it impossible to restrain a smile. Max Saunders called my serves missiles?
“So, did I hear right? That you were hitting with Tennessee?” Phoenix asked as he started a new exercise, extending his leg out in front.
I switched arms for my shoulder press. “I wouldn’t call it hitting,” I said. “He and Cullen just came over after football practice.”
“Are you hitting with Bianca?”
“Uh...no,” I said, stopping myself from saying too much—that Bianca seemed to despise me—for all I knew, they could be friends or ex-es, like her and Max.
Dropping the band, Phoenix placed both hands on the sides of the walking frame and pushed himself up to standing, then lowered himself for a modified squat. Something in his subdued exhalation told me it was taking a far greater effort than he was letting on.
I sat the kettlebell on my lap and twisted my torso from side to side, doing a half-hearted oblique exercise. I was more worried about Phoenix’s legs and the walking frame collapsing from under him.
“Hey, you’re not overdoing it, are ya?” My heartbeat increased substantially as I heard Max’s voice. Tucked away in the corner, he couldn’t see me.
“I’m good,” Phoenix said, his focus zoned in on what he was doing.
That’s when Max noticed me. He came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Oh. Hi.”
“Hi.” I said, continuing to rotate with the kettlebell, but wondering how I could make a quick getaway.
“Hey, I should try that. Obliques, right?” Phoenix smiled in my direction.
I nodded, but Max sounded alarmed, “Is it part of your physical therapy? I don’t think you can just go adding exercises or doing whatever you want, Phoe.”
Phoenix blinked in bemusement. “Chill, bro. I’m good.”
“You don’t wanna overdo it,” Max said, and my heart flipped at the genuine concern in his voice. He was truly worried about his friend.
“How was your run?” Phoenix asked, “Did you do all your laps?”
Max nodded, glancing at me. I looked away quickly, reaching out to put my kettlebell away. I didn’t want to make eye contact with his brown eyes, all soulful and compassionate for his friend. Such perfect eyebrows too, naturally arched and neither too dark or thick.
Coach Mercer returned to check on Phoenix, and I took the opportunity to slink away, because even though I’d only done one set of my routine, my heart was now racing out of control. Weirdly, always when in close proximity of Max Saunders.
