The guys are in rare form when I return to the living room.
“Looks like you made a new friend,” Coop says with a shit-eating grin. “I like her. Seems nice.”
I flip him anup yoursgesture and turn toward the kitchen—I deserve another beer after dealing with the she-devil—but then I get a better idea. “Yo, Coop. Can we get the music back? And while you’re at it, crank the volume up a little more.”
5
SUTTON
I’m draggingass when Maddie and I arrive at the gym Monday morning for conditioning. Although our season doesn’t officially start until January, we have to train year-round. Plus, I want to be in top form when team practices start next month and I didn’t train as hard as I should have this summer. Most of the camps I worked were for level four and five gymnasts and the workouts didn’t exactly push me to my limits.
You could’ve trained in the evenings.
True, but I was dead tired from chasing mischievous girls around all day.
Maddie sprints up the stairs to the gymnastics building—a squat brick rectangle with a modest sign over the main entrance—like she’s just chugged a Red Bull. I trail behind, scraping the last of my yogurt from the cup as I climb the cement steps. When I reach the landing, I lick the last bit of strawberry goo from my spoon and toss my trash in the blue and white can.
“What’s up?” I ask, joining my roommate, who’s made no move to open the door.
“The gym is closed,” she says, brows pulled low.
“What?” I skim the handwritten sign taped to the door.
Temporarily closed for repairs. Gymnasts may use the facilities at the football building until further notice. Contact Coach Miller or Coach James with questions.
My stomach drops. “Is this a freaking joke?”
The universe can’t seriously expect me to train with Parker. Not after Saturday night.
It’s bad enough I have to live next door to him.
Maddie’s phone pings and she pulls it from the side pocket of her leggings.
She taps the screen and her eyes move side to side as she reads.
“Definitely not a joke.” She flips the phone around, revealing an email from Coach Miller. “For the next two weeks, we use the football facilities or we don’t train. Sounds like maintenance couldn’t finish scheduled repairs because of all the summer camps.”
I groan, but don’t bother to check my phone, which is on silent. No doubt I got the same email.
“No way.” I shake my head for emphasis. “No way am I sharing facilities with those entitled douchebags.”
Maddie shrugs. “How bad can it be?
Pretty freaking bad.
Because even though I loathe DJ Parker, the pull of attraction is as strong as ever. When he leaned in to make his lewd innuendo Saturday night, those penetrating hazel eyes fixed on me, there was a moment when I imagined his lips brushing mine. When I remembered the feel of his tongue sliding along the seam of my mouth, the press of his muscular body—
Nope. Not even going there.
“Besides, it’s only two weeks.” Maddie hooks her arm through mine and steers me back down the stairs. “It might even make conditioning more fun. Just think of all the eye candy.”
“Eye candy is the last thing we need while training. Does the word distraction mean nothing to you?”
I can practically feel her eyes roll as she says, “We aren’t going to get injured while doing cardio.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. I saw a girl fall off a treadmill at camp and twist her ankle—because a boy walked past her machine.”
Maddie giggles. “Yeah, but I’m not thirteen and ruled by hormones.”
