She sits down next to me. Her deep chestnut hair is pulled into a slicked-back bun, exposing her striking facial features. Powerful, intimidating, and—I wonder if my curls could be man-handled enough to do that hairstyle?
“Is this her?” Dr. Zando pretends to discreetly whisper to Dr. Manning behind a cupped hand.
My advisor rolls her eyes. “Yes.”
“Hi.” I stretch out my hand to her. “I’m Sutton Davis.”
“Dr. Zando, but please, call me Allison or Allie.” She shakes my hand. “You know, Vivi, she reminds me more of myself than you.”
“Is that so?”
“Way cooler.” Dr. Zando laughs, then turns back to me. “Your advisor talks non-stop about her psych student protege.”
Huh? What? Me?
“Don’t let Allison fool you. I only talk about you once a day.” She smirks. “And the words protege did leave my mouth once or twice.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr.—Allison. Are you in town visiting? Did you two go to school together?” I have so many questions.
She licks her lips, glancing back at my advisor. “You could say visiting. Vivian and I went to grad school together. I could give you a good story or two about her.”
“Please do.”
“Maybe later. I’ll give you my number.” Opening her designer purse, Allison pulls out a business card and hands it to me. I tuck it securely in the back of my phone case. “My email is also on there. Send me your resume and a copy of your transcript.”
Wait…what? I wish I could rewind to make sure I heard that correctly.
“While Team USA doesn’t have formal internships, they do allow certain doctors to take on interns or allow students to shadow them,” Dr. Manning announces. The cadence and enunciation of her words lets me read between them.
Stay calm, Sutton.
“Really?!”
I’m about to burst out of my seat like a jumping bean.
“No promises.” Allie passes me a reassuring smile. “However, sometimes it’s good to know someone.”
Can they hear my heart thumping against my chest? Can they see the stars in my eyes?
“I’d love the opportunity to do that.” I turn to Dr. Manning. “Thank you.”
“All you, but you’re welcome.” Dr. Manning stands, grabbing her purse. “I’m starved. Sutton, do you want to join us for lunch?”
FORTY-EIGHT
COOPER
My playing is shit.
I’ve dropped at least five passes, spent more minutes in the penalty box in the first two periods than I have in my last ten games, and I can’t remember when I haven’t had double digits of shots on net by the third.
I’ve never been superstitious—Jordan tells me I’m just stitious—but maybe I should be. Lots of the guys on the team are.
When was the last time I played without that bracelet?
Where is that bracelet?I curse at myself.
After Coach yells at us, dropping his favorite colorful words several times, I turn to my cubby in the away team locker room.
